{all photographs courtesy of fashion is poison.}

Back in July of this year, I was contacted by Lucrecia from Fashion Is Poison. If you don’t know who she is, you should. Not only does she have smashing style, but she has been courageously fighting brain cancer since January. Lucrecia has a huge heart, & wears it on her sleeve as she documents her cancer journey on her other blog, Astrocytoma Brain Cancer. It’s no stretch to say that out of all the fashion bloggers in the blogosphere, I respect her most.

Lucrecia told me about this major project she was starting that featured some of the most popular fashion bloggers on the web: Raych, Taghrid, Emily, Alicia, Jayne, & The Stylish Wanderer. & when she asked me to be a part of it, I was flattered, humbled, & slightly intimidated.

This Thursday, in celebration of this fantastic project (which will be launching in 2010), all of us will be attending a screening to see Coco Before Chanel at the Laemmele Theatre in Pasadena, California. If you are in the area, & would like to enter for a chance to come with us, tweet @fashionispoision telling her which outfit is your favorite from her latest post. Winners will be announced soon. I hope to see you there!

& many, many thanks to Lucrecia for having the balls to put something of this magnitude together for all the world to see. Also, thanks to her beau, Jack, for his impressive photography skills. I appreciate the both of you so, so much.

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I’ve mentioned before that sex (intercourse, forking, boning, what have you) does not come naturally for me. Rarely do I feel sexy & never have I called myself a nymphomaniac. I’m the kind of girl who, when she gets the “urge”, waves it off & chooses to read a book instead. It’s much simpler to read a book, I think. Jumping my husband’s bones — or even taking matters into my own hands — is often much more complicated. It requires time, it requires effort, & it requires enthusiasm. Very seldom do I have all three. I would much rather go to sleep than invest my already diminished energy into a sweaty sack session with Jonathan. What’s even more awful is that I sometimes relish in my having period, blissfully relieved that I have a tangible, truthful excuse to say, “Not tonight, Honey.”

& if someone gave me the choice between having passionate sex with my husband, or eating a slice of dense, fudge-like chocolate cake… I would pick the chocolate cake without a moment’s hesitation. Even in spite of my husband being devilishly handsome & clearly resembling Jonathan Rhys Meyers, I would almost always choose the chocolate cake. Not because I abhor sex, & not because there is something wrong with my husband (on the contrary!), but because I feel that chocolate cake is on a much higher level of goodness, lusciousness, & indulgence than sex. Quite frankly, I get more pleasure from eating a slice of chocolate cake than from sex alone.

(& I wouldn’t be so inclined to admit all of this if I knew that there aren’t people [women] out there who feel exactly as I do. & there are.)

Because of my colorful opinions about sex, it’s no wonder that I tend to view it as more of a chore than actual playtime between Jonathan & I, as it should be. & this is precisely why we’ve been stuck in a sexual stalemate for over a year; probably one of the most daunting & worrisome events to happen in a marriage.

The result of my unassertiveness & lackadaisicalness regarding sex was that Jonathan was no longer coming onto me anymore. Why should he, when he was constantly being turned down? My sweet, darling husband began ignoring his own sexual urges. He began to give up on sexual intimacy as a whole, at the compromise of my passivity. Knowing this, seeing this, made me feel like I should have been crowned The Lousiest Wife of the Year. I was absolutely miserable knowing that he was miserable, in spite of me being somewhat okay at the fact that we weren’t having sex.

In my defense — which isn’t at all excusing my actions — I felt that it would be even more terrible of me to force myself to have sex, when I really, truly didn’t want to have it. To fake it, to grin & bear it, would leave me feeling used, resentful, & melancholy; not to mention, the sex would be lackluster & indifferent. (& here, I am speaking from personal experience.) I didn’t want that, Jonathan didn’t want that, but it was almost inevitable. & no matter how hard we tried to put our heads together to come to a happy medium, we could never seem to make it work. One of us was always left feeling gypped. It seemed much easier to not have sex than to have sex at all.

Who would have thought that sex could be so damn complicated.

Several weeks ago, we tried once more to talk rationally about this, with the hopes of coming to a satisfying compromise. Jonathan was rather hopeful. I, on the other hand, was indignant. I remember being so frustrated that we were on this topic again, with nothing to show for it. We were going around in circles, not improving our last few steps, & having this conversation was a bitter reminder of that. It was also a bitter reminder of how much damage I was causing.

Nevertheless, we discussed our options.

Jonathan: We could go to sex therapy…
Me: We’ve done that before, & it didn’t do anything, obviously.
Jonathan: We could go to a couple’s retreat in the mountains, or something…
Me: Those are too expensive.
Jonathan: Well then, maybe we could… be abstinent, & just not have sex at all.
Me: What? Are you kidding?! No! Absolutely not.

I could tell that Jonathan was at his wit’s end, & I had been at mine for the last several months. What else could we do? Nothing, it seemed.

After a long pause, I frustratingly blurted out, with tears streaming down my cheeks:

Me: You know what… We don’t need sex therapy, we don’t need a couple’s retreat in the mountains. We’re two, young, healthy individuals, madly in love with each other. We just need to fuck.

Jonathan looked startled, as if my suggestion was unexpected & unheard of. (& it was.) But it was the most blatant answer to our problem; someone just needed to bloody say it. & surprisingly enough, that personal was me.

& then it hit us. Once that bold (& quite vulgar; pardon me!) declaration was uttered, we finally saw how much pressure we were putting on ourselves about sex; myself, specifically. We finally realized how much we were over thinking something that is supposed to be so simple. We finally understood what we needed to do to fix this. We needed to stop talking about it, stop thinking about it, & just have sex for Heaven’s sake.

& we did.

That night, we were intimate for the first time in several weeks. We stayed up until three in the morning, talking, laughing, canoodling. It was beautiful. It was fun.

I remember the next day, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I couldn’t stop kissing him, or complimenting him on how attractive he was. I felt immensely close to him. My entire body just radiated with the love we had made the previous evening, & much to my surprise, I was looking forward to getting him into bed again that evening.

& I did.

Now, this isn’t to say that our — my — troubles with sex are over. Even while writing this, I was conflicted as to whether or not I should be writing in past or present tense, because some of the things I’ve mentioned above still stand; others are a work in progress. Today, for instance, at this present moment, I still feel like sex is more of a bother than an enjoyment. Not to mention, I am still dealing with stereotypical self-esteem issues in regards to my body & how I feel about sharing it with my husband. But those things, I have realized, are all based on years & years of preconditioned, incorrect judgments towards sex. I can’t expect them to dissipate so suddenly. In time, I’m sure those negative thoughts will be filtered out of my conscience, as I continue to work diligently on them.

As for us as a couple, sometimes we “forget” to have sex, for the simple reason that our schedules & frames of mind are different. Sometimes he would like to read a book; sometimes I go to bed before he does; sometimes we would much rather cuddle in bed.

Regardless of what we do (or don’t do), I’ve learned — quite the hard way — that it is our choice; a choice that neither of us should feel guilty about. I’ve learned that it’s senseless to spend time counting the days since I was last intimate with my husband. Life happens; it’s inevitable. What matters most to me is that we’re genuinely making an effort to stay intimately connected. (& I am sure as hell trying my damnedest.)  Because we can express our love for each other in different ways. Sex (intercourse) is not the only way.

& to you, my reader, I have to say that I didn’t tell this story in vain. I desperately needed to get this off of my chest, but I mainly wanted to YOU to know that you are not alone. I especially want to break down these wretched walls regarding sex, something we all do & have struggles with. I find it so strange that we can so easily talk about the troubles we’re having in our lives, but when it comes to sex, everyone keeps it within. I’ve made a personal vow to myself to no longer do that, no matter how graphic my predicament might be. My only hope is that my story has provoked a courage in you that is contagious for others.

& if you ever need anything, I want you to know that I am here for you.

I’m back from Salt Lake City, & very, very happy to be home. I missed Sofie, I missed our apartment, & I missed sleeping in my own bed. I enjoyed not having to worry about how big of a fashion statement I was making daily, & I enjoyed the vacation from Twitter, this blog, & other social media endeavors.

I did not, however, miss the warmer temperatures here in LA. Being in Utah gave me a glimpse of what Fall is truly supposed to be like, with snow on the ground, your breath tangible on air, & crisp evenings spent bundled up in caps & sweaters. Now, it’s back to tank tops, back to strappy sandals, back to shaving my legs.

The plane ride wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. The dramamine I took made the trip quite hazy & mellow. Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep on the plane. I was far too excited — & in awe, really, of the view from 7,000 feet — that I couldn’t shut my eyes. I’m actually glad I didn’t, because I wouldn’t have been able to take such gorgeous photographs if so. (I made sure to steal the window seat each time.)

It was wonderful to spend time with Jonathan’s beautiful family. I feel like I really got to know them much better, & I miss them so much already; I wish they lived closer. I especially enjoyed being around my little niece, Aspen Belle, who softened this very calloused part of me that swears against the idea of having children. I’m not going to say that she changed my mind… but I will say that I can’t wait to see her again & kiss those chubby cheeks. (& this is a surprising proclamation, considering I practically tattooed “I don’t like kids” on my body somewhere.)

& I can’t believe it’s November already. We’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving soon, & shopping for Christmas trees.

I’m not ready.

She’s wearing: a leopard-print dress & combat boots, from Forever21; tights, from the 99¢ store; necklace, from H&M.

He’s wearing: a striped shirt, black skinny jeans, & tie, all from H&M; shoes from Vans.

Jonathan & I went to my aunt’s 50th birthday party on Saturday, where he met most of my family for the first time; this is what we wore. Jonathan looked so incredibly debonair that I asked him if I could take his picture & feature him on my blog. (Even if he had said no, I would have done it anyway.) Putting our pictures side by side, I think it’s quite obvious who looks hotter (him, of course!).

Believe it or not, the color coordination was NOT planned (although it looks pretty awesome). We have a tendency to dress in the same color scheme without wanting to. I guess that’s when you really know if you’re melding into one flesh; you start dressing very similarly. Sometimes it’s annoying, because it truly looks like we’re that obnoxious couple that wears his & hers things. In this instance, I’m not complaining, because I felt like he & I looked like a bad-ass punk couple.

Oh, & the party went well. Jonathan held his own amongst my colorful family members, & they all welcomed him with open arms.

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On Wednesday, I’m hosting a Wii Fit yoga party with Nintendo as a Brand Enthusiast. I anticipate that there will be lots of laughs, no doubt coming from me, as I try to contort my body into familiar positions that I used to know. A post will most certainly be done to relive those moments. (& if you were invited, I cannot wait to see you there!)

& on Thursday, I will be going on a mini-vacation with Jonathan to visit his family in Salt Lake City, Utah. I will be gone for 4 days, & it will be the second time I’ve ridden on a plane. To get through the nerves I’m already feeling about being hundreds of miles in the air for about 2 hours, I will be taking dramamine with the hopes that I’ll just sleep the entire time. (In other words: pray for me.)

That said, from now until after November 2nd, I will be on a hiatus from apricot tea & ask apricot. (& I use the word “hiatus” loosely, fully knowing that it will not truly be a hiatus. But the word in itself gives me a freeing kind of feeling that the term “BRB” cannot.)

So wish me safe travels… & answer me this while I’m gone:

Q: what is your motivation for being a good person: to achieve personal happiness in this life, in the afterlife, or for something else?

This is a picture I had taken for my project 365; it’s one of my favorites. I mostly love it because I’ve been quite addicted to black & white stripes. I’m using this photograph today because it depicts exactly how I’m feeling at the moment.

I have several pre-written blog posts that are in need of publishing. They’ve been sitting in my drafts folder for 3 months now. I’m too timid to hit the publish button as they are; I feel like they need to be tweaked & edited more so that the point I’m trying to make is tangible & articulate. Because I have really great ideas, but I often cannot express them in a delicious way. I tend to ramble, which results in the composition sounding self-centered & whiny. Many people would say, “So? Write it anyway!” But I don’t believe in writing mediocre things. Self-centered, whiny compositions are often bad writings. & I refuse to stand by bad writing, even if it is honest.

I have a lot on my mind today. This month has gone by too quickly, & I’m trying to catch up to it, both physically & emotionally. October has been far too busy for my liking, & I will be quite happy when it’s over.

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new on ask apricot: guest-advice from Kyla Roma!

• “I’m worried about my boyfriend traveling with another girl…”
• “I want my boyfriend to give me more attention in our relationship…”

Need advice? Ask it on my advice blog, ask apricot! I am always taking questions about fashion, love, beauty, or whatever else you’re having trouble with. To submit a question, simply go to the contact page & after you’ve read the instructions, send me your submission. & don’t worry, you have the option to remain anonymous if you’d like.

(Are you interested in guest-posting at Ask Apricot? If so, email me, telling me why you think you would make an amazing guest advice giver, & we’ll have a little chat!)

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