Writing Wet

In the world of fountain pens, a pen that oozes ink onto the page is called a Wet Writer1. An ink that “flows graciously and lusciously from a pen nib and results in very smooth, saturated writing2” is called a Wet Ink.

A former lover of mine calls me Salamander, because I am Always Wet3.

You can call me Sally.

Yes, this is a pen name.

I am a wet writer who is eight+ years into a monogamous relationship with a man I love immensely. And yet for years, we’ve struggled to muster much sexual energy between the two of us.

My fingers are well-stained with ink from mulling over Important Middle-Aged-Woman-Who-Likes-Sex Questions. Questions such as:

• What are the most ethical ways to satisfy my desire for more, and better, sexual intimacy?

• Does my beloved partner really feel OK about opening up our relationship again? Do I?

• Would it make more sense to call one of my former Men On the Side, or to find new ones?

• How does anyone even have the energy for coordinating extra-household trysts in the midst of elder care, tricky family and life logistics, and any hopes of maintaining a creative practice?

• Do I actually want more sex… or am I just nostalgic for a time when I was actually having lots of it?

• To HRT or not to HRT… and if so, when to start?

• Might writing about my once-spicy love life help me figure some things out, such as what I really want now, and how I could go about getting it?

• Where can I have more of these conversations In Real Life?

If I’m going to gush over such things in my journal, I figured I might as well spill ink in public.

I KNOW some of you have been asking yourselves similar questions; let’s laugh together at the absurdity of it all! Here’s hoping we can also hold each other through the inevitable griefs that come with living in and sharing intimacy with bodies — our own and our lovers’ — that don’t last forever.

Still Wet,

Sally