This isn’t a post about sex.
Well, not just about sex.
Almost everything I do seems to revolve around sex in some way. I have the sex drive of a nineteen year old boy. Except I might think about sex more. And I definitely have more stamina and lovemaking skills.
Foreplay is pretty important to me. It sets the mood.
Not just sexually. In all areas.
I like to cook and bake. It’s a stress reliever for me, and I’m sort of good at it. I’ll never win any awards, or have my own TV show, but I know my way around a kitchen. I don’t make cakes or cookies from a box, I do it from scratch. I make my own pasta sauce, and I make a homemade pizza that people have literally begged for. To me an important part of the kitchen experience, is the anticipation. Smelling cookies baking. Kneading the dough. Cutting up the vegetables. It’s all building towards something.
And the anticipation of eating is enhanced by the smells coming out of the kitchen. No store bought cookie can compare to a warm one that’s filled the house with its aroma of chocolately awesomeness.
Ever had a long day at work, and the thought of a hot shower as you pull in the driveway is almost as good as the shower itself?
Ever been parched? Feeling an ice cold glass/cup/bottle/can in your hand is almost as blissful as the cold liquid.
Of course thinking about a cold drink, or a hot shower, or fresh from the oven cookies isn’t as good as getting the real thing. But the wanting enhances the getting.
And do I even need to mention sex?
Of course anticipation in this area is a huge part of my life. My husband and I are, let’s just say active, in the bedroom. And out of it. It’s a rare day that we don’t send each other dirty text messages. Or dirty picture messages. There’s not much we haven’t tried. And most of that we’ve really enjoyed.
Our foreplay usually starts hours before any real touching takes place. Words. Glances. When he was working from home for a few weeks in the winter I mailed him a pair of my used panties with a very detailed note listing that evenings agenda. And then I purposely was ‘too busy’ for sex until the package arrived. He sent me a text as soon as he got it. I then sent him some filthy pictures of myself I’d taken with my phone a few days earlier. He claims it was one of the longest afternoons of his life.
We regularly light candles. We have a blackout curtain for daytime fun. We have a thunderstorm CD that we burned to the iPod, and we often play that at top volume while we’re doing it. It’s like being IN a thunderstorm.
We sometimes eat dinner naked. At home of course. More than once I’ve sat next to him on the couch, and put on a show with one of my favorite toys. 
Like they say, getting there is half the fun. (Well not half. Maybe 10%?)
It’s the same for me with writing. I have to set the mood. I use Pandora all the time to play music to get me in the writing mood. I have a fan for white noise. Unless it’s raining (I love the rain. A rainy day not only makes me horny, but inspires me creatively and helps me focus. I get more housework, cooking, bill paying, and writing done on a rainy day than a nice one. I know. I’m weird.) I keep the blinds closed and avoid the outside world.
Without this writing foreplay my writing is like a box of fast food. Passable. Not awful. But not great either.
So my challenge to you reading this is simple:
WHAT CAN YOU DO TO BUILD ANTICIPATION (AND THEREFORE ULTIMATELY ENJOY THE END RESULT MORE) IN YOUR LIFE? What in your life are you giving the fast food, cake mix, by the numbers treatment?
**By all means don’t think I’m knocking people who DON’T bake or cook from scratch. I go the homemade route because that’s what I love to do. Not because I think it makes me better or smarter. If making frozen food gives you time to do what you LOVE then you’d be a fool to cook from scratch and deny yourself time to indulge what you NEED to stay sane and happy.
Love, Isabella 