“Sex is natural. Sex is good; not everybody does it, but everybody should.
Sex is natural. sex is fun. Sex is best when it’s one-on-one.”
– George Michael
Let’s talk about sex.
Not because I’m having any—far from it, actually. In fact, a dear (male) friend likes to joke that I am a “sexual camel” (because apparently, I save it up?). Another (female) friend not-so-jokingly labeled me a “sexual anorexic”, which I assume means that I come across as adverse to intimacy altogether…
I know for a fact that neither of these things is true, but admittedly, I’m having a conflicted relationship with sex at present, and I can see how it might be confusing to the casual observer. Indeed, since I’ve started documenting this journey, several of you have asked me how candid I plan to be, if/when any of these relationships develop into something more. Because, voyeurism.
The truth is, if I actually become comfortable enough with one of these dudes to take it to the next level (physically), the likelihood is that I’ll also be willing/hoping/agreeing to be in an actual relationship with him, so I don’t envision myself being too open with the details. However, since I’ve just barely reached first kiss stage with any of these guys (I’ll let you guess with whom), now might be as good a time as there will ever be to allow you “between the sheets”, so to speak. So, let’s get it on…
For those of you who know me personally, it may not come as any big surprise that as of a couple of days ago, a solid year has passed since I allowed anyone into my bed (don’t ask me why I know the exact date). After all, I’m a girl who has declared prolonged periods of celibacy in the past (my record is 18 months), so, you may be thinking: What else is new, Mai?
To be clear: this latest lapse is a matter of circumstance, not choice. True, my last encounter was deeply unfortunate (horrific, in fact) — and there have been a couple of near-misses since — but mostly, nobody’s really been doing it for me (pun intended), as of late. And, in view of the aforementioned horror, I suppose I’ve been a little leery to allow just any random someone to take a stab at something I can satisfactorily do for myself (again: puns intended).
But, that doesn’t mean I’m not craving contact. A year is a loooooooong time, when you’re entirely eligible (and wicked sexy, to boot). Especially now, as I’m dating men I’ve met on an app commonly known for “hookups”: sex is inevitably the elephant in the room.
Unfortunately, nothing’s quite jumping off, yet. Frankly, I haven’t felt anything close to…inspired. But though I’ve been as clear as I can be about my intentions, pace and preferences (i.e. not being intimate with multiple people concurrently), boundaries are apparently made to be tested…
I guess you never make a shot you don’t take, but it’s equally true is that reading is fundamental; especially when it comes to body language. Since I’m currently a slow burn, I suppose it was inevitable that I’d be outpaced by some of these guys — especially those spoiled by the instant gratification that is Tinder. Therefore it’s sad (though not regrettable) that both “Mr. Clean” (formerly “The Silver Fox”) and the very recently acclaimed “Nine Lives” have now been removed from consideration, for very different reasons.
In all honesty, I think “Mr. Clean” was probably doomed from the start. Aside from the shady age reveal on our first date (the lie was a bit of a turn-off), I found him a bit pushy from the onset — for instance, when he insisted that the perfunctory first-date goodnight kiss-on-the-cheek I offered be on the lips, because “we’re adults.” Indeed we are, but I simply wasn’t ready for a lip-lock, at that point.
With that in mind, I likely shouldn’t have been surprised on our second date, when, in another awkward moment — this time, alone in his car — he proclaimed that he didn’t want to waste his time: he wanted to “make out” with me (you know, because that sounds so “adult”). I’m not keen on having my time wasted, either, but I also knew I wasn’t the least bit interested in partaking. Consequently, no date three, because…why bother?
“Nine Lives” was a bit more of a disappointment. After all, this is a dude I had great rapport with on our first date; the kind of rapport that made me pray I’d develop a physical attraction to go along with it. But before we’d even planned Date Two, he’d already made a coy comment about my ample “booty.”
Was it innocuous? Probably, but it also felt inappropriate, from a man I’d just met. Instead of stoking my interest, all it did was highlight my lack of sexual attraction toward him. Then, too, there’s the issue of stating the obvious — in this case, my ass — which just seemed…basic.
But, in the spirit of open-mindedness, I gave him a pass. That is, until a few days later, when, in response to my mention of suffering insomnia the night before, he suggested that we should’ve “met up” (this, after a single coffee date). At that point, I knew it was a wrap. I could take the man out of Tinder, but in this case, it was likely worthless trying to take the Tinder out of the man. Unbeknownst to me, our agreement to become friends apparently had a benefits package attached; I just couldn’t see what benefit it’d be to me.
So, Guys, consider this your PSA of the Day: unless a lady is leading with her libido, you’d do best to pay close attention to what she’s actually saying, and not just what you’d like to hear. Considering yourself an expert in body language is no excuse for ignoring the words that are coming out of her mouth, because “no” often simply means “no”. And if you consider yourself a gentleman–or at least, want to be perceived as one–let her set the pace. It may take her a minute to warm up, but once she does, who knows? It could get quite hot.
As for me, I’m gaining a lot more confidence in my gut. Sure, I’d love to get back in the saddle, so to speak, but experience has taught me that the sack is no place to settle. I’m a choosy lover, and I reserve the right to be. After all, my sexual–and mental–health may depend on it.
And as the great Grace Jones recently said,
“If the f**k don’t feel right, don’t f**k it.”