Men and Lovemaking ... A Writer's Question

Much more comfortable spying and driving fast and blowing things up....

I wrote this a couple of years ago for KING JUBA'S CHEST. It brought a smile because I do remember with painstaking detail the three nights in a row I struggled to capture this scene.

Here's my question: Men are supposed to be the aggressive ones, the sexual animals of the jungle. But when it comes to writing about it, why do male authors have such a hard time? I've talked to other authors and they agree. It gives us the creepies.

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Soon they were hugging and kissing and making love right there on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Every dark thought and splinter of doubt was swallowed up in a surreal evening of inflamed passion. The clock began to march forward again, stealing back the precious moments in which it had languished on hold. The logs surrendered to the sweltering flames, serenading their ears with tiny explosions of joy.

Where was the laziness of time when you really needed it? She thought. Why didn’t it reassert its meddlesome repression and stretched the night into eternity?

Just before they fell asleep, Nicholas raised up from his pillow. “You had something to tell me?”

Exhausted, and floating in her own enchantment dream world, Lola tried to focus. “Huh?”

“You came to the store today to tell me something. What was it?”

“It wasn’t important.”

“Are you sure?” he persisted.

Lola thought about how small her test score seemed in the scheme of things. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. But remember, if you need to talk to me about anything, I’m always here.”

Indeed, he was ... right here.

“Are you sure?” he persisted.

Lola thought about how small her test score seemed in the scheme of things. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. But remember, if you need to talk to me about anything, I’m always here.”

Indeed, he was ... right here.

She snuggled in his arms and fell asleep.