Last night, Janelle and spent some time just hanging out in the Enchanted Forest (aka, my bedroom…the name is mostly derived from the huge photographic forest mural that dominates the space). Mostly, I laid under the covers bitching about being cold and tired while she sat next to me painting her nails or something. It was just then, that I realized my bed is directly across the room from the mirrored built-in closets. Okay, maybe I’ve know that since I arranged the room, but it never occurred to me that anyone/anything on the bed could be clearly seen in the mirrors.
I pointed this phenomenon out to Janelle. She laughed, but she still seemed skeptical of the skeeviness (or awesomeness…I guess it just depends on one’s interests) of this layout.
I demonstrated. “Now imagine me here, lying on my back…just like I am now. After all, I’m notoriously lazy in bed (this being another long story, involving someone telling the world of MySpace that–among my many flaws–I am ‘lazy in bed.’ I can neither confirm nor deny this).”
Next I made a gesture of slightly moving someone–this individual being on top of me–off to the side a bit…and then I peered around this imaginary conquest to straighten my hair in the mirror.
We were both laughing. But then I realized something. “It’s probably going to be a long time before I have sex in this bed again.”
Janelle said something reassuring like, “Oh, you don’t know that.”
But well, I kind of DO know that.
I’m not going to lie: I’ve been a bit of hussy in the past. Not in some pathetic, “I need attention anywhere I can get it way.” Something more in the neighborhood of “I like fun.” I’ve slept with guys I’ve met in bars. And friends of friends. Friends of friends of friends. Co-workers. People I went out with once a year or two before. Guys with glasses. Guys with perfect vision. And so on. The quantity is not ridiculous (no where near three digits). But even if it were, it wouldn’t really matter. I could go into a long feminist diatribe about why it’s completely fine to sleep with anyone you want–as long as they aren’t in a relationship and you’re doing it for honest reasons–but if you are reading my blog, chances are you already feel that way.
After my boyfriend and I broke up last year, I figured I would go back to my old single (read: promiscuous fun) lifestyle. I gave it a few tries, but nothing felt right about it.
For one, I found that if I wasn’t really into someone that much–but I liked them enough to sleep with them–they would somehow decide that I was their dream girlfriend. When I (quite honestly) said, “I just don’t want a boyfriend right now,” that only somehow made me seem elusive and more exciting. Then they would just try harder. Gifts. Dinners. High levels of compliments. I guess the thrill is in the chase. And suddenly lots of drama would develop. Late night drunken phone calls. Contacting my friends via MySpace for advice. AGGRESSIVE DANCING (JT can explain this one to you). Ultimately this would result in some sort of painful confrontation, wherein phrases like “you’re a heartless bitch” and “your soul is a desert” were thrown around. No thanks.
Furthermore–and this is the really important part–I just realized I wasn’t into sex with strangers. I decided I would much rather be naked around someone I trusted and appreciated.
So a new resolution was born: I will only sleep with individuals I respect (read: I think they are totally fucking awesome). Otherwise, why waste my time and emotional energy? And I have no urge to accidentally hurt the feelings of others.
Since I made this rule early this year, I’ve slept with two people. One is my ex-boyfriend, and I like to think he doesn’t count. After all, weird ex-boyfriend sex is all part of the breaking up process. I think. I mean, maybe that’s not true, especially when it’s been almost a year since the actual breakup. It’s not just picking at the scab, it’s cutting open the scar. But I like to think that I had to do that, to prove to myself who my ex-boyfriend really was…and I definitely saw the real him in glaring fluorescent light. It was bad. And then I was done.
And the other individual? Someone I’ve known for years. And I’ll admit, I’ve known him in in the biblical sense many times. But he still fell in line with my new rule: I think he is totally amazing…and I have a huge amount of love and respect for him.
I feel good about this rule. I think I can really stick to it in the long time. For one, all the energy I would normally spend chasing down boys/sex is now channeled into other more productive endeavors: this blog, my book, super fun with my friends, my family, and on and on. And I have to admit, bikram yoga is a curious substitute for sex (same afterglow, sweatiness…but with a finer looking ass in the end). Furthermore, I just have no interest in wondering if some guy likes me. Or getting jealous if he talks to other girls. And games bore me.
Well, I would love to write more…but I have to go put on an oversized cat sweatshirt and make dinner for my cats…I mean…uh…Janelle.