To Screw or Not to Screw? That is the question.

Don't worry, Jake. My love for you will never die, no matter who I meet.

So I met this guy.

The thing is, I don’t really know what to do about it. Which is an interesting predicament.

Normally, I would know. I would go fast and see if it worked out, and not think much about it at all – I’d more feel my way through it. But I’m in an interesting space right now when it comes to dating. I’ve told myself I want a real relationship. I’m not necessarily looking for The One, but I do want something of substance, with someone I actually like and connect with BOTH physically and emotionally.

As it happens, this is, as we all know, actually not all that easy. It’s easy to find people to fuck, and it’s easy to find people to get along with; it’s not so easy to find someone that both turns you on and lights you up.

Still, it’s what I want, and I understand that clearing out the old makes room for the new. If you want a different type of relationship in your life, you have to get rid of the ones that aren’t that. So since making this decision, I’ve cleared the way in certain important regards, like eliminating a fuck buddy arrangement and turning down a physically attractive man who I previously would have invited into my bed. I didn’t even kiss him, people! Seriously. Somebody give me some freaking props.

Why didn’t I do him? Because I made an internal promise to myself that the next person with whom I have sex will be someone I am actually considering. As in, being in a relationship with. As in, being monogamous with. As in, maybe we would actually both get tested before we had sex, so that we could have unprotected sex.

[Side note: honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to me that this was something people did until a friend pointed it out. My reaction was, “But … but that’s … BRILLIANT!” So brilliant! You mean you could actually wait long enough to have sex with someone to get tested, get to know them well enough that you know you want to be monogamous with them, and then have sex? Revelation!]

Anyway, I met this guy at an acting workshop. And I like him. He’s solid. I can feel his heart when I look into his eyes. He pays attention to his surroundings, and he pays attention to me. He’s well-traveled. He has both his feet on the ground. And he clearly likes me.

It was a little like this, only less bromance and more romance.

A few days after we met, a group of us from the meetup went out, and he and I flirted. He was subtly obvious – just the way I like. He put his hand on my back; his gaze lingered just long enough; and when the venue was loud and he had to lean in to make himself heard, he made sure to do so in a way that felt like he was leaning in for a different reason.

Well played, my friend. Well played.

The only problem is – well, one of two – is he’s good friends with one of my friends. She’s not a super close friend of mine, but a friend nonetheless, which made me a little uncomfortable on the night we were flirting. And since I’ve learned by now (at least most of the time) to communicate when something is even just a little bit off, I named it. “Listen, we have some attraction going on here,” I said, “but you’re one of Sasha’s guy friends, and I feel a little strange about that …” Then I paused and considered what to say next. “I’m not a yes, but I’m not a no.”

I was glad nothing happened that night. He didn’t try to kiss me. But it felt like there was something different between us than there had been before, like there had been a turning point. Because I’d named the attraction between us, it felt like we’d shared something.

Sure enough, he contacted me the next day. I’d been thinking about him, wondering whether he would pursue it, and he did. (Another point in his favor, especially because I was feeling ambivalent and not really sure what to do).

I was glad to hear from him. But the idea of seeing him again brought up something of a fear response, and when I leaned into it, I was a little surprised at the reason:

I don't! I don't!

I don’t know how to do this.

First of all, he’s not exactly my type physically. He’s not who I thought would show up in my life. On the other hand, he seems like the type that does have actual relationships (as opposed to some others that I’ve tended to attract in the past), and that would be open to a relationship right now in his life (ditto).

The predicament I now find myself in is what to do about it all that. I’m supposed to see him again – soon – and I realized that I’ve been stressing myself out just thinking about the end of the evening, when he will likely walk me home. It’s going to come up again, I just know it is (or my obsessive monkey mind does). The whether-we-kiss thing. The what-that-means-if-we-do thing. I feel like I have to have it all worked out beforehand.

It was a revelation when I realized that I don’t, in fact, even have to kiss him yet. I can just be honest and say, “I need to go slowly.”

Slowly? Really?

Me?

Now, class, let's go over our vocab for the day.

I like sex, I want sex, and I usually go after sex. But when I had sex with the last guy I slept with, I had a visceral experience of what it’s like to have “good” sex without having good sex. It was good. He was just the right size and knew what he was doing physically, and we even had a simul-gasm.

But there’s good sex, and then there’s good sex. The kind where your whole body is alight, where your heart and his heart are connected at the same time, where your soul is transparent for a moment. Good sex is the kind in which you test the capacity of your body to experience pleasure on all levels, not just the physical. Not to get too esoteric, but I think only two people who are fully present, fully aware of the moment, fully in tune with each other (which is only possible if you actually know him/her), and fully aware of themselves as both sexual and spiritual beings, can have good sex.

I’ve had a lot of sex in my life. I’ve had a good amount of good sex. And I’ve been fortunate enough to, on occasion, experience good sex. Now, that’s what I’m craving, and on some level – both deep and shallow, perhaps – I know that the path to getting there is potentially more complicated – or at least more of an investment.

I know how to decide almost instantaneously whether sex with a specific man is what my body wants. I don’t know yet how to decide whether sex with a specific man is what my body, heart, and spirit want all at the same time.

Perhaps knowing I don’t know is the first step towards knowing.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

And maybe that’s OK.