lu·dic
/ˈl(y)o͞odik/
adjectiveFORMAL
showing spontaneous and undirected playfulness.
In the time of COVID, those of us who are quarantining with our partners may find the closeness and constant attainability of those we love a bit much too bear. Many of us no longer enjoy the distance created by work-life. Gone is the potential erotic charge that comes from interacting with people who you do not brush your teeth around. The individual identity that you created for yourself at work, a place where you may have felt competent, powerful, and in control for blocks of time has turned into a mishmash mixed in with at-home identity. Now each day has become a scramble to make sure there are no stains on your shirt, consider pants, and not day-drink. That is if you are lucky enough to have a job, and work at home. Then you may be juggling “homework” with “paid work.” Like so many, if you have no paid employment, perhaps your sense of purpose is buried under the burden of looking for work, a job within itself, exhausting to the whole, entire, human system. No wonder you may not be in the mood or have the energy to have the sex you used to have, add children and aging parents to the mix and even the most sex-positive sex professionals may turn away from a chance to tickle those inside/outside parts. So is that it? No more sex; every day is a struggle; our identities lost. Not yet!
Do I have THE answer, nope, however, I do have a suggestion that might work? Take the sexy out of sex and replace it with silly. Those ludicrous moments where you snort your way through an erotic connection. While the world is deeply serious, life and death matters are presented every day, sex doesn’t have to be. This is coming from someone who takes sex very seriously. I am not talking about just penetrative sex, I am talking about anything you want to call sex.
When I think of my partner, whom I am very attracted to (survey says, “Hot Piece of Ass”), I think about our past experiences, the vacation sex, the dating sex, the pre-3rd baby sex. I remember how exciting it was, but it brings a melancholic mood to mind. But when I think of the time we both ended up laughing because someone farted (never me), while roasting in an NYC apartment that only knew hot or hotter, becoming a naked human slip-n-slide, I smile and want more of that. Not more flatulence, that’s not my yum, but more ludic debauchery. More laughing at ourselves, the sounds we make, the skill to stay on task, and the silliness of sex. So perhaps that is what you can rediscover in yourself and your partner during this time of daily struggle and seriousness.
Play with each other, ridiculous games with silly pick up lines and childish flirtation, fully-clothed. Play with food. If coconut whipped cream is calling, get some, shoot that shit all over, not in places where food need not travel, but, or inside of any orifice except a mouth or a belly button. Reclaim your joy and the ludicrousness of the nasty.
Erotic expression can be seriously healing but so can laughter, and laughter can take the pressure off.
Get ludic with it, it’s not that deep.
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