The Eyes That Matter

Joe was a six-foot Yugoslavian boxer with a crooked nose.

I never intended to find a life-long partner when I joined the kickboxing gym.

I always thought boxing was barbaric. In a street fight, the instigator is a barbarian. In the boxing ring, it's two humans who don't even have a beef, pounding each other for no other reason than to prove who’s stronger.

Besides, I had joined the gym for vanity. Kicking shit was going to tone my arse and thighs.

Joe was handsome but too lean for my taste. He was also my instructor, which I figured might be unprofessional.

The problem was, the gym was so damn social. Always meeting up for dinner or drinks after training. Weekends out pubbing and clubbing. Everyone was f*cking.

Who was I kidding?

I'm attracted to men who can hold their own.

Men who won't shrivel into a weeping mess when physically challenged.

It's not a cliché that "Confidence is King."

F*ck yeah. Confidence is attractive.

Joe walked with an air of indifference. He didn’t care for anyone’s opinion. He even danced unabashed. I’d watch him dance with other girls when we were out clubbing and something would stir inside me.

For a meathead, Joe was also articulate. Confident and crafty with words. I enjoyed intellectual banter with him. He stimulated my mind.

It was through our love of banter that we found ourselves playing a game of hypothetical questions in the car park late one night. One thing led to another, and the taboo thrill of teacher and student made it easy to justify our first straddle session in the car.

"You know this is highly unprofessional"—jiggy jig.

"Yes"—jiggy jig jig.

"Don't stop"—jiggedy jig jig all the way home.

NOT sexy in a two-door coupe, but where there's a willy, there's a way.

The secrecy began and supercharged our sex life even more. Garage. Front door step. Kitchen bench. We couldn't keep our bodies apart. Rarely made it to the bedroom. On weekends when we had the pleasure of a whole day, it was morning, noon, and night and then morning again. Joe had gooood stamina. On training nights, if we stayed late and were last at the dojo. Yeah, we’d bang it out in there. More taboo meant more intense sex. Sorry Sensei!

With Joe’s stamina and my ability to multiple orgasm, we were easily in sync and enjoyed extra fireworks with simultaneous orgasms. The sex was delicious.

He was exceptional at keeping secrets. He was so good that he maintained composure after giving me a bloody nose during a sparring session. (It was my fault; I dropped my guard.) It was only when we were alone in the kitchen cleaning my face that he whispered,

"Honey, I have such a dichotomy of feelings right now. I wanted to hug you and apologize, but I also wanted to berate you for dropping your guard."

I fell in love with him in that moment, despite not knowing what "dichotomy" even meant.

It touched my core when I saw vulnerability peek out through his usual bravado. The softening of his eyes. The concern in his voice. A man who had the ability to be both hard & soft.

F*ck yeah. Vulnerability is super attractive.

I was possibly light-headed from being clipped in the nose, but that intimate moment in the dojo kitchen had me giddy with emotion. Joe had won me physically, mentally, and now emotionally.

It was those qualities that turned unsexy into irresistible for me:

Confidence
Articulation
A sprinkle of vulnerability

Am I that easy?

Yes. Three kids and twenty years later …

I never intended to leave a life-long partner when I joined the parenting club. I always thought we'd grow old together. Two humans whose spark had diminished, surviving each other for no other reason than to fulfil a commitment.

That's what happens when irresistible turns back into unsexy.

It's simple to explain. Domesticity strains relationships. Familiarity breeds contempt.

Seeing each other through critical eyes instead of loving eyes.

I have a particular photo of Joe that I've pored over in the past, admiring every detail with loving eyes. That exact photo can also give me dry mouth when I'm looking at it through critical eyes. It's a sad phenomenon and critical eyes were my weapon of destruction

Oddly, Joe's weapons of destruction in our marriage were the same qualities that attracted me in the beginning. Well, the man is consistent!

The confidence and air of indifference that had been sexy turned into distance.

The articulation that had been sexy turned into his ability to talk rings around me.

The vulnerability that had blessed us with intimacy disappeared back under his armour.

He became a man tired of criticism. I became a woman desperate for intimacy.

The stronger he built his armour, the more I tried to crack it.

Me:
As the intimacy goes, the f*cking slows.

Him:
As the f*cking slows, Joe goes.

It’s strange looking back at ‘our moment’ many moons ago. That afternoon, in the dojo kitchen. I had dropped my physical guard and it caused Joe to drop his emotional guard.

It was truly blissful. We were in a magic bubble of oblivion.

That’s what happens when habits don’t matter…until they matter...

The guy who left empty beer bottles in the shower used to be irresistibly sexy.

Twenty years later, that guy who still leaves beer bottles in the shower is annoyingly unsexy.

There's no taming that, really.

I had wooed Joe using ‘enticing eyes’ then ‘turned a blind eye’ from certain habits.

Over time those same habits triggered my critical eyes.

Habits that were there all along. The only thing that changed was my eyes.

Sexy or Unsexy—it's definitely in the eye of the beholder.