Here, read this. Partly thanks to the aforementioned personal shit, it made me melancholy. Nothing wrong with that--I won't say anything puerile about laughter and tears being two sides of the same coin, but, well, let's just say I love this post with all my heart and Sylvia/M, you should freewrite more often:
Sometimes it’s easy to take yourself way too seriously while having sex. I dread waking up next to someone who’s thinking “circle left, forward right, and this is how I make an orgasm” when I really want to be close to them. To wake up spooning. To feel them exploring my body — I mean, sometimes it’s not important if I get off. If I get off many times but don’t feel close enough to give an expression of mirth, then that’s my cue to leave. Laughter’s not mandatory for all sexual encounters, but it’s required for intimacy.
I can’t imagine a great sexual experience without laughter having something to do with its execution. Because being able to laugh with someone, at someone, to someone — that’s a hell of a connection.
You'll go read the whole thing now if you know what's good for you. Don't cross me today! Or next week. Or the week after that one, either.