Over the past couple of years I’ve written about all the fun I’ve had dating. I also wrote about a heartbreak or two. And a couple times I’ve found myself in relationships. For me, dating is simple. Sex is a carefree frolic on a spring day in the Alps. Relationships? Another story (or six):
In bed I’m accepting. You’re nervous? Maybe worry you’re a little tubby around the waist? Quicker or slower or softer than you think things out to be? It’s all good. You’re human! I’m human! Let’s enjoy ourselves. In relationships? I’m critical. If you have shitty table manners or talk too much about your years and years (and years and years) of therapy, your presence evokes impulses to shove the cloth napkin way, way, way down my own throat right there in the osteria, using the table knife to effectively lodge the linen in my esophagus and take me to the sweet release of the white light.
In bed I am patient. There is something — something delightful, wonderful, actually — about the process. Exploration and learning each other. The slow build and ever-promise of discovery. Out of the sack? I’m inpatient. What’s the rush, you ask? Not sure. I feel vulnerable — insecure, I admit — if I am not confident in your feelings, like, yesterday.
When it comes to sex I don’t judge your history. You and your ex never did it? More pent-up lovin’ for me! Things were rote in your last relationship? Just a poor match — let’s kick it. In dating, I revert to the maxim: people don’t change. Your behavior over the past 40 years is a great indicator of how you will moving forward. Fooled around on your wife — and every other woman you’ve dated? I accept that is who you are. All your girlfriends complained you weren’t romantic or attentive? I’m not going to be the exception.
In bed I have no issues asking for what I want. Or giving what you want, for that matter. The pleasure is really is all about the giving, and allowing to be given to. In relationships, I can be passive aggressive. I don’t try to be. It’s not that I set out to play games. No. It is just that when I’m annoyed or irritated or hurt or devastated I usually don’t trust those feelings. I tell myself that I am wrong and that my judgement is off. So I don’t express how I feel. But those feelings come out anyway, because that is what feelings do (that is what my therapist said, anyway).
Sex is fun and uncomplicated for me. Once in a while you stumble upon an outlier — someone really selfish or way too freaky for the general population. Otherwise, an occasional unilateral orgasm is totally fine. Sometimes a person is just exhausted and can’t keep up with the other tonight. I’ll get you next time — or trust you will get me. Relationship do a number on me. Here goes: I tend towards anxious when I’m dating someone seriously. Worried I’m committing to the wrong person. Worried I like him more than he likes me. Concerned that somehow this one, too, is barreling down the road towards yet another heartbreak. No matter how wrong I know it is, I’ll keep score. Have at the mental ready all the thoughtful things I’ve done for you in the past month, or ways I showed I cared — and a long, long list of the slights and inconsiderations you’ve inflicted on me.
I’m clear that I need sex. In the past couple of years I’ve come to accept regular sex as a basic human need — right up there with exercise and love. Relationships? I’m can be super-lonely when I’m not in one. But when I am, I start singing the same blues that everyone does about how hard they are. And then when I really start to sing the blues, I’ll call him. And initiate the not-so hard part.
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