The most important sex organ is the brain

"When it comes to sex, the most important erogenous zone is between your right ear and your left ear."

By Alex P. Vidal

THIS is the second "lesson" from God Never Blinks, a compilation of essays written by Regina Brett, a veteran journalist and a breast cancer survivor. 
When she turned 50, she reflected on all she had learned through becoming a single parent, looking for love in all the wrong places, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer, and making peace with a difficult childhood.
Then she wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer on the 50 lessons life had taught her. 
It became one of the most popular articles the paper ever published, crisscrossing the globe via e-mail to hundreds of thousands of people, and shared at weddings, graduations, Sunday schools, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries, and more.
Now Brett expands the 50 lessons into essays that are inspiring, deeply personal, sometimes funny, and often poignant. They're sure to strike a cord with anyone who has ever gone through tough times--and is there anyone who hasn't?

ESSAY

Let's hear from Brett in her essay, "The Most Important Sex Organ Is the Brain."
My friend Sheryl wanted me to meet her friend.
I don't do fix ups, I told her.
It's just a party, she said.
She didn't tell me much about the guy. He had a beard, he was divorced, he was in public relations. That's it.
Had she told me more, that he smoked, that he was an agnostic who loved jazz and sushi and big city life, that he was a Virgo who was never home, I would have never given him a chance. 
I was a nonsmoking Catholic vegetarian Gemini who loved country music and small towns and nesting most nights. On paper, we were no match.
At the last minute, I decided to go to that party back in 1992. 
Sheryl introduced me to Bruce and we never stopped talking. We sat on the couch for hours. 
He loved his work and was passionate about making a difference in the world. 
He had beautiful warm brown eyes that made me feel safe, yet they were alive with excitement. There was something going on behind those eyes.
He called the next day and we talked for three hours. I learned that he sang in the shower and cried at movies. 
But I was cautious. I had given up on men for a while, stayed celibate for almost two years. 
After a few years of intense counseling to deal with childhood issues, I wanted to break the pattern of attracting unavailable men who struggled with intimacy and commitment. 
I wanted someone to love me, to want me for the long haul. 
Like every wounded woman, I wanted someone who would never hurt me, never let me down, never reject or abandon me. 
It was an impossible order.


FIRST DATE


I didn't know what to do with Bruce, so on our first real date, I gave him three choices: we could see a movie, go out for dinner, or drive to the town he grew up in and do a tour of his homes, school, and points of interest so I could learn more about him. 
He turned the tables on me and suggested we do the tour in my hometown.
We drove around Ravenna, population 12,000. 
We drove past my grade school, junior high, high school, places I worked, my old home, and my church. 
We ended up at the cemetery where my grandparents are buried. 
We sat in the car watching a fingernail clipping of a moon rise over the scarlet sky and naked trees. 
He declared that moment with me was as good as sex. 
This man was certainly different from anyone I'd been with.
Later that night, we ended up at a restaurant talking about what we were looking for. 
Would he ever marry again? Would I ever marry at all? We agreed on one thing: if we did, we would choose not a husband and wife, but a life partner, a best friend.
That night I started to trust loving a man. Bruce was bright, funny, and honest. 
I learned he was Jewish but loves to sing Christmas carols outside cafes in December. 
That he gives the Little Rascals high sign to kids, has tons of books in his living room, and would quit smoking for the right person.


WAVY HAIR


He loved my wild wavy hair, my skinny nose, my hands, my feckles. He showed me pictures of his mom, grandma, sons, and siblings. 
He even took out his cell phone, turned it off, and said, "I never do this." 
He mailed me a cassette tape of romance and jazz on one side and his favorite Christmas songs on the other. 
He said he sent it to seduce me. It worked.
All his words and acts of kindness made me feel safe. He acted like a child, so happy to see me. 
He held my hand and we sat talking on the couch for hours. 
He was like having a sleepover with a best friend. Bruce became my buddy.
We didn't have sex until we had The Talk. His idea, not mine. One night we sat up all night on the couch talking. 
He wanted to know about my past relationships, all the detours and broken roads that led me to him. He'd been married for 15 years, divorced for two. 
I had never lasted more than a year with the same guy. 
Lots of dad issues, lots of men who resembled my dad and brought their mother issues. Not a good combination.
Bruce joked that he liked a woman with a past. We laughed but we also cried as I talked and he listened to the challenge of loving me. 
There was still so much healing to be done. In my entire life, I'd never felt completely emotionally and physically safe with a man. 
I was barely aware of my own intimacy needs. I grew up believing that a woman performed for a man and if she got something out of it, fine, but if not, it didn't matter.
Bruce encouraged me to speak up about everything, to say what I liked and didn't. 
I didn't know what I liked or wanted in a relationship because I never got the chance to figure it out. 
Most people emerge into a sexual being. When you are abused sexually as a child or raped as a teenager as I was, your sexual identity is stolen. 
You don't get to gradually come of age. When someone else's sexuality is forced on you, it stunts your own growth. 
I spent my adult life trying to please a man by doing all the things I guessed he wanted, but didn't have a clue as to what made me feel good.


KEY


Bruce wouldn't have that. He told me the key to our relationship was building and keeping a friendship, that sex wouldn't make or break a relationship. 
He taught me a great eternal truth: friendship comes first. 
That is the soul of the relationship, he said.
Before I met Bruce, a girlfriend in recovery had shared how she created new ways to relate to men by using the "Big Book" of Alcoholics Anonymous. The writers of it must have had a sense of humor, because the sex advice starts on page 69.
The book advises one to take a personal inventory, to look at resentments and fears, but also at one's sex life, what worked and what didn't. 
Then create a sane and sound ideal between you and God about what is right for you alone.
I need to trust God with my sexuality. I had to look at sex as a gift that springs from a God who made me with desires and longings and passions. 
I needed to know and believe that God was creative enough to design men who would not abuse or abandon me in a relationship.


LARGER


Sex had to be part of a larger, whole relationship. This time, it was. 
Before we ever got to "home plate" we sat and talked for hours. 
At one point, Bruce pointed to his head and said, "Sex is up here." 
It's not about performing for each other. It's not your job to please anyone. 
"Not that much of sex is about having an orgasm," he said. "That's the icing. All the other ingredients make up the cake. Let's make the cake."
So we did. A decade later, we're still having a great time baking. 
Our sex life has never been dependent on our bodies alone. Good thing, because age comes along and changes them. 
In my case, cancer did. After I lost my breasts to cancer, it took a while to feel sexy again. 
Bruce kept telling me it would just take a little time for my brain to rewire itself. He was right.
When it comes to sex, the most important erogenous zone is between your right ear and your left ear.