WHEN THE BODY KNOWS FIRST

Some people say you know it’s real when the conversation flows.

When you laugh at the same things.

When you want the same kind of dog.

When you agree about garlic in everything.

But I think the body knows first.

Before names are exchanged,

before intentions are declared,

before you even know if they vote like you or rinse their dishes properly—

your body leans in.

It softens.

It listens.

It tells the truth.

Because sex—when it’s more than performance, more than release, more than rehearsed choreography—is a language.

One that can’t be faked.

Not really.

It speaks of power and trust, of letting go and taking hold.

It reveals how safe you feel with someone, and how willing they are to hold the weight of you.

It tells you whether they see your hunger as a threat—or an invitation.

I’ve had sex that left me lonelier.

And I’ve had sex that felt like I’d come home to something I forgot I was allowed to want.

And that’s the thing about soulmates.

It’s not always about the timeline.

It’s not about having everything in common or even being perfectly ready.

It’s about how your nervous system responds when you’re naked—

not just skin, but soul.

Does it brace?

Or does it bloom?

The right one makes your body an altar.

Not a battlefield.

The right one doesn’t just undress you—they meet you.

Fully.

Hungrily.

Reverently.

And I think we know it’s real not because we fall into perfect rhythm,

but because we fumble honestly.

Because we say, “I don’t know how to do this,”

and the other whispers,

“That’s okay. I’ll learn your language.”

That’s love.

That’s sex.

That’s the miracle of being found and not undone by it.

xx Josi