Embrace Your Vulnerability
by Nia
Sex is kind of awkward sometimes.
You're naked. You're making moaning noises. Your husband is looking at you. Your back keeps arching and you can tell your face keeps making a funny expression. The lights are on. You're on display.
In short: You're incredibly vulnerable.
Awkwardness and vulnerability can strike at any moment. It may hit when you first step into the bedroom wearing a new piece of lingerie he's never seen before. It may hit any time you try to wear lingerie. Or maybe it grips you in the middle of sex, plummeting your arousal back down to zero and making you painfully self-conscious when you most want to let go. Or maybe it creeps up on you after, as you lie there beside him, thinking, "Oh my gosh. I can't believe I just did that. I don't normally scream like that. Does he think I'm a complete freak?"
You get past it and brush it aside... but then it starts to accumulate. You start getting nervous at new times and for new reasons, and you can't ask him what he thinks of you because you'll sound desperate and insecure. Men like confident women, right? What if you ask what he thinks and you don't like the answer? What if he does think you're fat? What if he has lost respect for you for using that dirty language the other night? What if he thinks you're a total creep for admitting you think it'd be hot to be tied up? What if... what if... what if... You're such a terrible wife! You'll never be good at sex! He's probably only pretending that he likes sleeping with you to spare your feelings. Why are you so needy and insecure all the time? Why can't you just be a good wife and have sex like a normal person? He's probably disappointed and sorry he married you, you weird, awkward, silly...
Let's stop right there.
No, seriously. Stop.
Maybe it's just my brain that overreacts like this. But I'd guess not. In fact, if I were a betting woman, I'd place a lot of money on the notion that most women have let their awkwardness get the better of them when it comes to sex. At some point or another, we've all done it. We've all felt the flush of embarrassment of realizing that we just screamed a lot louder than we intended, or the nervousness of just lying there without a stitch on while our husband gazes at us without saying anything. Sure, he may be thinking, "How did I convince this goddess to marry me?" but we don't know. We can't read his mind.
And that's the lightbulb idea here: You can't read his mind. And he can't read yours.
That realization, dear sisters, is what leads me to my fail-safe method for overcoming the awkwardness of vulnerability without any lasting negative side effects (which for me include anxiety, overthinking, and the irrational paranoia that my husband only married me to be polite).
Drumroll, please. Here it is:
Acknowledge and embrace your vulnerability, out loud, as soon as it hits.
It looks like this:
A few months ago, I had dressed up in a pretty new piece of lingerie. It looked okay, but I felt like my breasts were too small to fill it and that I'd failed to fulfill the promise made by the porn-star model who'd worn it on the tag. I stood there, awkwardly, with my husband's eyes on me. I know he likes lingerie. I know he likes me. I know he likes me in lingerie. Knowing these things was not enough to make me believe them, and oh, boy, sister, you can believe there's a difference. Normally, I would handle this by shoving the embarrassment down to resurface at a later period, and then hurrying to start kissing him so his eyes would close and he'd stop staring at me. But that just didn't feel good. I'd been trying to pay attention lately to what felt good, on a deep-down gut level, and pushing my feelings away did not. So I did the thing my intuition suggested would feel good: I spoke up.
"So," I said. "I'm feeling completely awkward and on display right now. I hope you like it. I don't really fill it out well, but --"
And my husband pulled me onto the bed and started kissing me and telling me how gorgeous I was.
We won in so many ways in that moment. I got those embarrassed feelings out where they couldn't clog up my system or have power over me anymore. I communicated to my husband what I was feeling and, indirectly, what I needed from him. And my husband got the warm glow of knowing he'd said the right thing and truly taken care of my emotional needs... and he got the added benefit of a wife who's much more confident wearing sexy little nothings.
This method is simple. It's easy once you get into the habit, and it has the double benefit of making you feel better while helping your husband grow closer to you. So the next time you're feeling nervous, insecure, silly, or awkward, tell your husband. You don't have to ramble on about it or justify your feelings. Just be honest and simple: "I'm feeling vulnerable right now." My guess is that he'll will understand, because he's felt awkward and vulnerable before too. Try it out. You have nothing to lose but insecurity, and a confident, intimate sex life to gain.
You're naked. You're making moaning noises. Your husband is looking at you. Your back keeps arching and you can tell your face keeps making a funny expression. The lights are on. You're on display.
In short: You're incredibly vulnerable.
Awkwardness and vulnerability can strike at any moment. It may hit when you first step into the bedroom wearing a new piece of lingerie he's never seen before. It may hit any time you try to wear lingerie. Or maybe it grips you in the middle of sex, plummeting your arousal back down to zero and making you painfully self-conscious when you most want to let go. Or maybe it creeps up on you after, as you lie there beside him, thinking, "Oh my gosh. I can't believe I just did that. I don't normally scream like that. Does he think I'm a complete freak?"
You get past it and brush it aside... but then it starts to accumulate. You start getting nervous at new times and for new reasons, and you can't ask him what he thinks of you because you'll sound desperate and insecure. Men like confident women, right? What if you ask what he thinks and you don't like the answer? What if he does think you're fat? What if he has lost respect for you for using that dirty language the other night? What if he thinks you're a total creep for admitting you think it'd be hot to be tied up? What if... what if... what if... You're such a terrible wife! You'll never be good at sex! He's probably only pretending that he likes sleeping with you to spare your feelings. Why are you so needy and insecure all the time? Why can't you just be a good wife and have sex like a normal person? He's probably disappointed and sorry he married you, you weird, awkward, silly...
Let's stop right there.
No, seriously. Stop.
Maybe it's just my brain that overreacts like this. But I'd guess not. In fact, if I were a betting woman, I'd place a lot of money on the notion that most women have let their awkwardness get the better of them when it comes to sex. At some point or another, we've all done it. We've all felt the flush of embarrassment of realizing that we just screamed a lot louder than we intended, or the nervousness of just lying there without a stitch on while our husband gazes at us without saying anything. Sure, he may be thinking, "How did I convince this goddess to marry me?" but we don't know. We can't read his mind.
And that's the lightbulb idea here: You can't read his mind. And he can't read yours.
That realization, dear sisters, is what leads me to my fail-safe method for overcoming the awkwardness of vulnerability without any lasting negative side effects (which for me include anxiety, overthinking, and the irrational paranoia that my husband only married me to be polite).
Drumroll, please. Here it is:
Acknowledge and embrace your vulnerability, out loud, as soon as it hits.
It looks like this:
A few months ago, I had dressed up in a pretty new piece of lingerie. It looked okay, but I felt like my breasts were too small to fill it and that I'd failed to fulfill the promise made by the porn-star model who'd worn it on the tag. I stood there, awkwardly, with my husband's eyes on me. I know he likes lingerie. I know he likes me. I know he likes me in lingerie. Knowing these things was not enough to make me believe them, and oh, boy, sister, you can believe there's a difference. Normally, I would handle this by shoving the embarrassment down to resurface at a later period, and then hurrying to start kissing him so his eyes would close and he'd stop staring at me. But that just didn't feel good. I'd been trying to pay attention lately to what felt good, on a deep-down gut level, and pushing my feelings away did not. So I did the thing my intuition suggested would feel good: I spoke up.
"So," I said. "I'm feeling completely awkward and on display right now. I hope you like it. I don't really fill it out well, but --"
And my husband pulled me onto the bed and started kissing me and telling me how gorgeous I was.
We won in so many ways in that moment. I got those embarrassed feelings out where they couldn't clog up my system or have power over me anymore. I communicated to my husband what I was feeling and, indirectly, what I needed from him. And my husband got the warm glow of knowing he'd said the right thing and truly taken care of my emotional needs... and he got the added benefit of a wife who's much more confident wearing sexy little nothings.
This method is simple. It's easy once you get into the habit, and it has the double benefit of making you feel better while helping your husband grow closer to you. So the next time you're feeling nervous, insecure, silly, or awkward, tell your husband. You don't have to ramble on about it or justify your feelings. Just be honest and simple: "I'm feeling vulnerable right now." My guess is that he'll will understand, because he's felt awkward and vulnerable before too. Try it out. You have nothing to lose but insecurity, and a confident, intimate sex life to gain.
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