The Love Fetish


love-fetish
Editorial note: Originally published in June 2014.

 

“Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.” -Rumi

Last week, I was chatting with a friend about the following subject and which — turns out — gets me very riled up: Not appreciating our partners. Not wanting to spend time with them. Not wanting to hang out with them in bed. Not wanting to just free fall into nothingness with the person with whom you’ve chosen to spend an exorbitant amount of time.

I said that if you are free to do so, and can’t stand to spend a few more moments, or an entire day or weekend, or month in bed with your partner, then you probably shouldn’t be with them. That if you need outside static, and can’t pause to do nothing except be with this wo / man / both then there is something fundamentally at odds in your relationship and you should probably check out. But only after you have in good faith and ferociously attempted to bridge whatever divide obviously exists.

I was told this is a bold statement.

How? How is it a bold statement when sex and its own very particular language is one of the most important forms of communication between lovers?

Dearest seven readers, are we fighting? Am I too much the romantic fool?

I sometimes can’t help but wonder if I have a really fetishist approach about what it means to connect with someone. I am usually a rational person, but often find myself wanting to pick up heavy objects and throw them around a room when I am made privy to the following: That someone has been blessed enough to partner, but they don’t appreciate it. That they don’t wake-up and choose their lover every single day – this being a key factor in a successful healthy relationship. As Muslims, we are asked to remember our love for Allah five times a day; I believe that we absolutely must do the same with our lover. Daily daily daily. Else, a chasm is created and the taking for granted, and the letting go kick-in.

For me personally, this is really very offensive. Because how exciting is it to wake up to someone every morning? To have your neck nuzzled, your shoulder kissed, your hair held as a gentle way to wake up? How amazing is it to roll over and curl into someone? How can we take for granted waking up and finding next to us someone we really really like, who is not our mum?

I am not kidding when I ask — does everyone eventually forget how lucky they are? Am I lunatic to think that we should do double duty to keep things adventurous and sexy and fun and imaginative? Please, please tell me if I am some sort of a crazy person.

Only before you do, let me state that if I am in fact a connection/love fetishist, I am very happy to be just this. If ever I wake up in bed thinking “ugh, I can’t wait to roll out of here,” then this will serve as a massive flag that something is wrong.

And don’t get me wrong – I get that it’s easy to idealize what we don’t have, and that some of you may be thinking that I may be this way because I haven’t had many relationships, and I am good with this. Yes, very few have been privy to the absolute inner workings of me, a privilege for both of us. I also don’t plan on changing this, because while this is not the case for many of you, and I respect that 100%, I fully understand it doesn’t work for me. I am far too intense to have this work for me.

The bastard lucky enough to get his hands on me long term? I will strap him to a bed for at least the first five years, because I have to make up for lost time.

For many people, a slow, calm and cool wind is what gets their skirts up; not me. I need a heat wave and a sandstorm where I can’t breathe, can’t see, and my strongest (not only) anchor is the man to which I am holding. That’s the intensity I want, and this is definitely the intensity which jives with my head and heart. I am not good unless I am inside of an extreme, feasting. For me, anything less would have seen me married long ago. And survey says, very unhappy.

There is a couple who I adore, and who I’ve yet to actually meet. Parents of my friend B, she tells us how well into their 70s, they can’t keep their hands off of one another, always running up to the bedroom, always flirting, always touching. After nearly 40 years of marriage.

It’s to this I aspire when I clock a man in my mind’s eye. That, that he is a Believer in God, humour, loyalty, intensity, and height, because I like the feeling of being wee physically in the privacy of my man’s world. Simple.

I have always believed that at the core of us is the need to connect, and this is reflected in Rumi’s poetry all of which is about re-unification with God; it is no surprise that it reads like a love story to the human condition, that Ecstasy (capital ‘E’) is most closely experienced by ecstasy (small ‘e’), and when viewed as such, why would I ever wish to squander it on just anyone? Why would you?