INTRODUCTION
Your Wife Is Not a Lawn Mower
“Tell me about foreplay,” I say to the next couple in my office. “What kind of foreplay do the two of you enjoy the most?”
“Well, we kiss,” she says. “Then I touch him, and he touches me.”
She’s obviously speaking in some kind of secret code here. But you get the picture, right? She strokes his penis, and then he does something to her vulva with his hands.
Is this a good idea? Well, that depends. If this couple is riding a wave of ecstasy fueled by erotic touch, then sure. But in that case, chances are they wouldn’t be sitting in my office.
More likely, they’re just trying to get the job done—to get him hard and her wet, so they can have sex.
How many couples do it this way when they first fall in love? Not many. When passion is high, no one needs friction to get excited. Hardness and wetness just happen as effortlessly as the blooming of a flower.
That’s the way it’s supposed to go. The sexual self saying yes, in the only language it knows. Trying to convert a “no” to a “yes” by friction alone is like trying to convince a child he likes broccoli.
Forget it. It’s not going to work. Friction may get you sex, but never good sex.
As I sit with this couple, I can’t help recalling a scene from my suburban childhood—watching one of the neighborhood dads try to start up his gas lawn mower. You had to pull the cord just right for the engine to start, and this took practice and skill.
I live in Manhattan now where we don’t have lawns. But the image is still stuck in my head—the mower, the cord, and the look of frustration on the face of the guy hoping to start the thing up.
I wonder whether this couple is old enough to have ever seen a gas mower.
“Look,” I say to him. “Your wife is not a lawn mower. It’s not just a question of pulling the cord right.”
They both laugh.
“But how do I get her wet?” he asks.
“Simple. You don’t.”
He looks at me with curiosity.
“It’s not your job to get her wet,” I say. “Just enjoy your own excitement, and let her enjoy hers.”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“It’s actually much more romantic, if you do it right. And something even more important.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“It’s more erotic.”
* * *
These are astonishing times for sex. You can find new sex partners on your smartphone in minutes. Pornography is everywhere. And even kids in middle school know that if an erection lasts more than four hours you should call your doctor.
With a click of the mouse you can find new sex positions online, buy the latest vibrator, and learn the names for sex acts your grandparents never knew existed.
But with sex getting all this attention these days, are people feeling any more satisfied in bed?
I doubt it.
They know more sex techniques. And they certainly have more access to sex toys and other forms of erotic novelty. But if my experience is any guide, that’s not what most people are really interested in.
What are they really interested in?
Simple:
They’re interested in relationships. They want to have great sex in a committed relationship. They want sex to be an instrument of sanctification and peace at the center of a loving partnership.
You could look for a long time online and not find any deep secrets for how to do that.
It’s no mystery why: The secrets to great sex in a committed relationship are largely emotional. And emotions are slippery things—hard to capture and sometimes even harder to communicate.
You could learn all about the best sex techniques, the latest scientific studies, and the newest kinky ways to stretch your erotic boundaries. But if all you really want to know is how to have great sex with someone you care about, then all the technical expertise, sexual science, and erotic novelty in the world probably aren’t going to help you very much.
For that, you need something else:
You need to understand sexual feelings. How they operate, what rules they follow, and how they connect to the rest of who you are.
* * *
This is a book about sexual feelings.
It’s unabashedly about sex—as you’ll see. But it has much to do with erotic love as well. Its main concerns are more emotional than physical.
This is not a book about how to turn your partner on. It’s not about how to give someone the world’s greatest orgasm. Instead, it’s about coming home to yourself as a sexual person.
You might say it’s about finding your sexual heart. Once you’ve found your sexual heart, those other details tend not to matter so much.
Over the last thirty years, I’ve treated over fifteen hundred individuals and couples using the methods you’re going to read about here. I know this approach helps people. And I’m confident that no matter where you’re starting from, it can help you connect more deeply with your sexual feelings and enjoy them for life.
Copyright © 2018 by Stephen Snyder