My issue with Jack’s morning wood had nothing to do with how much I adored his cock and everything to do with the attitude that I default to when woken up by my 5am weekday alarm. Jack, meanwhile, took my attitude quite personally: by forgoing appreciation for his cock, he felt unloved.
Allow me to unpack this for you.
I once woke up feeling despondent, berating the day for beginning before I could garner another cycle of sleep. I had too little drive, no real motivation, no recognized purpose.
I started to change as I entered my late thirties. I started sleeping through the night as my babies did, too. I ate healthier and switched from grueling cardio to yoga and walks. I got transferred to a new library. I began to write more than I had in years. I started making true friends. My relationship with Jack was strengthened as we explored our sexuality and our boundaries.
I suddenly have a world that I want to be awake for.
I wake up nude, having shed my pajamas in favor of my birthday suit years before. My hand instinctively moves to my core, stroking my smooth, flattened belly as I gather my strength for the day ahead. I pry my third eye open along with the other two, recollecting the plans I’ve made for the day ahead. I try to focus my brain on gratitude. And with that calm energy washing over me, I’m ready to get out there and be alive. You see, I don’t have time for an engorged penis; we need to make the bed.
I still wake up a tinge moody, it’s true. Jack and I established long ago that he may not be able to interact with me in the first hour of my morning. I asked him to accept my silent introversion as a personality quirk, not a personal offense.
You see, we don’t communicate well in the morning, and I realize it’s on me. I’m not in the mood to talk or listen; I’m spending time in my introverted mind. If you try to engage me, there’s a strong chance that with enough provocation I’m going to turn into a raging bitch and ruin everyone’s day.
Jack now knows to give me space, meaning: let me retreat immediately to yoga or on walk — or at the very least let me down a cup of coffee. Many mornings, the most I hear from him is, “I’m going to put on my headphones now, but when you’re ready to talk, just let me know!” Instead of being offended by my silence, he’ll listen to a book or a podcast.
So, why is it that Jack thinks his penis is exempt from the request of my morning persona? I was annoyed. This is how mornings had started to go over here a couple months ago:
Me: [stretching like a sexy cat, removing my carpal tunnel brace, soaking in the last bits of cozy slumber on the smooth, warm white sheets and determining how full my bladder is] Echo, stop.
Jack: [rolls over to give me a hug, scratching my back lightly] Good morning, gorgeous. You look great.
Me: [conjuring up things to be grateful for during the day ahead, beginning with my outfit choice] Mmmmmm.
Moments later, I finally roll over and push myself upright, out of bed before my body knows what’s happening. I begin to hastily make the bed, mostly to prevent me from jumping back into it. Jack does his part over on his side of the bed, erection at full attention.
Jack: [stroking big hard smooth cock in between ripped thighs] You see how big this thing is? Look at it!
I don’t look immediately, or long enough, or with enough intensity. He’s interrupted my thoughts and I’m still in a fuzzy stupor without my glasses or contacts.
Jack: Hey, are you going to look?!
Jack: It’s huge this morning! You have to see this!
Jack: Come on, this means a lot to me.
Jack, shoulders sagging, walks into the bathroom.
He wants me to ogle it, compliment it, validate it, suggest that perhaps we squeeze in a quickie right now even though he’s long known that morning is my worst time for sex, as I’m sure you’ve ascertained based on the above Bitchy Morning Mom description.
Instead, I’ll roll my eyes. Or sigh. He feels rejected, as if I’m repulsed by his penis. As if I didn’t treat it like a dark chocolate Dove ice cream bar a mere 7.5 hours prior.
He’s hurt. I’m annoyed. We bicker as I make my way to the bathroom, as I put in my contacts and take my meds and supplements. The scuffle continues until I kick him out of the bathroom so that I can use the toilet in private and go back to pep talking my mind into functioning for the day ahead.
The thing is, I told him that I didn’t want to deal with his penis every morning, months ago. I thought we’d established that I just don’t get excited about his penis first thing in the morning. His touch, yes. Talking about his penis? That goes in the talking-about-anything-in-the-morning category. I simply can’t stand the chatter. I have to sort out a few things in my brain before I can get started, beginning with where I’m going.
I’m green chakra in the morning. I’m on my way to work, intent on leaving the house by 6:30am. I don’t have time for sex or sexy thoughts. Those are for later. I compartmentalize.
I thought we’d agreed on this situation. But clearly we didn’t have a true understanding, because he’s been back at it; the Jack’s Morning Wood Show has resumed syndication and it feels even more jarring than the first time, because I thought we had an agreement, but obviously not. I probably thought I took care of that one morning with some short words, despite the fact that at 5am I’m barely cognizant. Nope, I didn’t make myself clear, and I didn’t seek to understand Jack at all.
Finally, one day post-dinner, post-yoga, and with the addition of a low dose weekday gummy to open our minds and hearts, we discussed.
He’s proud of his penis, he said. It makes him happy for it to be hard. It feels good. It’s enjoyable, and he wants me to like it, too. When he was younger, he was always worried about it being erect at the wrong times. Now that he’s getting older, he has more control and finds that he is truly able to enjoy it when it gets hard. In fact, he’s quite happy that it’s still working and wants to celebrate it.
Side note: sometimes, we have so much sex that Jack’s penis can’t always keep up, particularly when we go on a sex vacation. On our first trip to Hedo, a few of the older guys pulled Jack aside and assured him that there was no shame in popping a Viagra or Cialis to keep all systems running. I was shocked by how many of Jack’s friends refused to ask for a prescription, even when Jack admitted what fun it is to pop a Cialis for a long night ahead, even at home. It takes away performance worries for Jack and doesn’t bother me one iota.
Point is, he’s not getting any younger, and yes, he does have an absolutely beautiful dick. I was a fraternity house sweetheart and I vacation at nude resorts, so trust me, I know. Perfect size, both flaccid and erect. Nice head to shaft ratio. Perfectly straight, so arousing to my perfectionist tendencies. Delicious. Smooth, soft skin that feels like silk against my lips.
But I told him — I don’t want the pressure of having to compliment and validate your penis in my very first thoughts each morning. I need to focus on other tasks for the day ahead, but knowing that your penis is very important to you, and knowing that you enjoy being complimented and validated, I will make sure to recognize your penis as part of my repertoire. I appreciate knowing specifically what you most like me to compliment, plus this material is easy and natural to work with. After all, it’s such a nice looking cock. Just please don’t ask for the compliments first thing every morning. I can’t handle the negative feedback loop we get ourselves into when my brain can’t yet balance all the thoughts.
I also told him that, as an alternative, perhaps he could just gently stroke his erection against me in the mornings while we have our quick wake-up cuddles. After all, I do love that cock, and I like that some stroking doesn’t involve talking too early in the day. Jack amiably agreed to this new arrangement and accepted my boundary.
We listened to each other, we empathized with each other, and we came to an agreement that satisfies both parties. Not our first time at the marriage rodeo. And yes, I’m a librarian, so I have a book for that: The Five Long Languages by Gary Chapman.
Every once in a while, especially when Jack and I scuffle, we go back to that book. Doesn’t everything in life come down to love? How can you show your love for your partner in a way that makes them feel it? If you both make the effort to speak in your love in your partner’s love language, it’s one step closer to matrimonial bliss.
I prefer quality time, time spent in meaningful conversation, exciting experiences, deep connection. Jack does a great job making me feel loved, engaging not only in quality time, but covering every other language just in case, too. Acts of service abound as he completes chores around the house, runs errands, and performs maintenance on my minivan. He’s beyond generous with accolades on my outfit choice, my hair, my commitment to my profession. Obviously, he excels at physical affection. He gives gifts (typically houseplants, my favorite!) just often enough that they’re special without making me feel like he’s wasting our money.
But the other way around? Well, I’m halfway to meeting Jack’s needs. When Jack took the quiz in Chapman’s book, he found that he was split down the middle between physical affection and “words of affirmation.” Physical affection? I do pretty well with that. Words? Oddly, while words are my passion, using them to compliment and validate my husband has never come easily to me.
I think I almost see it as a sign of weakness, based on some flaw in the way that my family interacted with each other while I was growing up. I’m making moves now to fix that. I know that I have to set aside my perfectionist standards in all realms, but most especially with other people. I know that I get lost in my head and thoughts all too often, rendering me awkwardly quiet. I know that I have to practice gratitude and live in the moment; these are my personal mental health goals. What better way to practice my gratitude for Jack than to say aloud the things that I like about him?
And so here, Jack, is an article that I shall publish on the Internet for all of humanity to access, filled with compliments about your luscious genitalia, which I hope to find stroking gently against my leg in the morning with no expectation, especially of conversation.
I’ll show my appreciation when I moan about it later tonight. Kisses!