Anyways, we watched porn together sometimes and I knew he watched it alone. I’m not like,
“the cool girl” who’s totally okay with her boyfriend watching porn but I knew it was an uphill
battle and one that wasn’t going to end well for either of us, so I tried to use it to bring us
closer together. One night, loosed by a few stiff drinks over ice we drank on his balcony, watching the city lights come on and turn off — the full metropolitan life cycle in one night — I
asked him what he liked about porn, and whether access to me or all the other women in the world (hotter ones, I even gave him) would be better, ideally.
His answer surprised me, it wasn’t about quality or quantity, but about availability. With me, (and he loved me very much, he clarified), he had to woo me, constantly.
Sex was never a given, and this is a biological difference between men and women. He was trying, all the time to make me think of him sexually and to initiate sex and even my higher-than-average female libido couldn’t keep up with him.
As loving and as open and assuring as I was towards him, he was still getting rejected by me in this way, often (and even more often if he would be honest about how frequently he wanted sex).
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