The Zsa Zsa Zsu

"In the absence of sex, whether that's the arrangement, or just what happens after a few years, what distinguishes this companion from your many other companions? When it comes to saying "I do", is a relationship a relationship without the zsa zsa zsu?"

This is one of my favorite quotes from Sex and the City. Yes, the show is 99% fluff, but there are occasional moments that give me pause. Carrie explains that "zsa zsa zsu" is, "that butterflies-in-your-stomach thing that happens when you not only love the person, but you gotta have them. Isn't that what gets you through the years? Even if it fades, at least you have the memory of the zsa zsa zsu." Perhaps this quote spoke to me at the time, back in 2002, deep in my first year of motherhood, where, to be frank, I was struggling to keep sex on the to-do list, never mind somewhere near the top. At this point, H is saying, "Awesome. Thanks. I really appreciate your readers knowing about the slower moments in our sex life", but that's the whole point. They were moments, but they still made me think about what make H and I, "H and I" - other than our sex life.

Parenting can really suck the energy out of your love life. Hell, life can suck the energy out your love life. Choosing to spend the rest of your days with someone means that you go through the easy times and the rough times together, and in those rough times, you turn to face adversity together, which means you are no longer staring longingly into each other's eyes. Unlike most difficult situations, parenting, unfortunately, is the kind of "rough time" that generally lasts until the last kid leaves home. It can get to the point where you feel like roommates who happen to share a a checking account and the care of small people with your DNA.

And what about the natural slow down in libido? I've written before, about fighting through the parenting years with H, keeping the romance going, but even the most amorous of couples can't fight the march of time and decrease of hormones. Well, except for those using Viagra for non-medical issues, which I think is unnaturally throwing off the balance of things. Didn't God designed testosterone levels to decrease around the time women go into menopause for a reason?  Aren't both factories supposed to start to slow production at the same time?  And when that does eventually occur, what happens?  I'm not asking if the elderly still have sex, but I mean, what happens to the relationship?  H and I realized, after recovering from the above mentioned "slower" times, that connecting physically changed the dynamic between us in a positive way.  It's like having a secret between the two of you.  Does that just go away?  Is that how you wind up on opposite ends of the couch arguing over the television volume?

A friend of mine is a home care nurse, and she told me a story of an old couple she cared for overnight occasionally.  Both were almost completely bedridden and the husband was on oxygen.  And one night she heard noises through the monitor and was convinced one of them was having a heart attack.  After listening another moment, she figured out they were actually having sex.  Now while this might make some want to gouge their own eyes out at the thought of such a sight, I thought, "That's what I want!"  OK, not to watch old people screw, but I want, in our dotage, for H and I to still have the hots for each other.

While geriatric hanky-panky would be the ideal, the more I think about it, the zsa zsa zhu is not about the physical part of sex, how we look, or how our bodies function, but about a mental and emotional connection.   Taking sex out of the equation, I still gotta have him.  During all of my pregnancies, sex was pretty much shelved after the sixth month.  I did not enjoy trying to find a postion that didn't make me feel like a turtle stuck on my back and H did not enjoy trying to mount a beach ball with limbs*, but we were still us.  Still cracking jokes and grabbing each other's asses.  In the maternity ward, the least sexiest place on earth, H was still crammed into the hospital bed with me, just so we could be together.

I think the zsa zsa zhu is about knowing you simply can not be without this person, intercourse optional.


*And who are these guys who think pregnant bellies are sexy?  I mean, I get the first 20 weeks when you're all tits, but the latter half?  You have mother issues.  

Two down, one to go...

You know it's bad when Blogger has a whole new interface when you return to writing. In fact, I can't even get this thing to break up paragraphs (wtf?). Please excuse the absence, dear readers. Above is evidence of what has been taking up my time. Shockingly, my skittish #2 made it through her First Communion with no near-fainting episodes. I have also been taking more time to pursue other writing endeavors, which, fingers crossed, I will update you on at a later date. Because, as mush as I love you all, you ain't clinking on those weird ads Google puts on the blog enough for me to call this a career. So this week, as I gorge on the remains of communion cake, I will be returning to my regular posting. If I can figure this new interface out....

Absence makes the house grow cleaner...

"Could you possibly put your socks IN the hamper?"

"Can you stop leaving bags of garbage on the decl fo the dog to eat?"

"I emptied the dishwasher last."

"You forgot to take out the recycling AGAIN."

Sadly, these are the types of interactions that have been peppering H's and my interactions over the ast few months. I know this is pretty standard fare in the married world, but it doesn't mean I'm happy about it. This winter had been especially brutal. Not weather-wise, but illness and house-as-disaster-area wise, and H and I were a little worn out. Then he went to Brazil for 6 days.

I had six days of no bickering over chores or childcare. True, that's because I was solely responsible for every single thing in the house from childcare to waste management, but it was two days in when I realized how liberating it was to not feel annoyed. Exhausted, but not annoyed, at least not with any adults I was living with. And when I really thought about it, what the hell were we so annoyed about all the time anyway?

H's work travel is a hassle, and exhausting, bit it also gives us an unexpected gift - perspective. Being in the trenches of mariage and child-rearing can generate a closeness of the not-so-good kind. Where you get tied up in all the minutiae of this life, and forgetting to load the coffeemaker can turn into a heated debate on par with the Darwinists vs. Creationists*, and result in a slow-burning, moral-destroying resentment. With H being away, I see how ridiculously small these issues are in the grand scheme of things, and rather than cursing him for the trail of detritus he leaves in his wake, when he's gone, I get to miss H, the person he is, and how much he brings to my life. And he gets to miss my rigid, control-freak self as well.

Now I'm not saying, upon his return, that all the little shit that usually bothers me magically stopped bothering me, but I've begun stopping to ask myself, "Is this really worth getting worked up about?", and remembering the calm of that week when I wasn't going from zero to sixty on the rage-o-meter over lost dry cleaning tickets.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I say, absence makes the heart more forgiving. Because coupled with that rapier-like wit, is H's inability to see household clutter, and to enjoy one, I must have, and accept the other.

But DAMN is my house neat as a pin when he's gone.

*I think the hardest H has ever made me laugh is when, in a fit of self-flagellation, I was contemplating home schooling the kids and I said there were many websites I could get info from. His reply, "Sure, here's a sample lecture, 'And the Jesus said to the dinosaurs...."