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| photo courtesy of www.photobuxket.com |
Rob and I had a brief but steamy affair when I first moved to L.A. back in 2004. We’d met at the same close friend’s birthday party back then and the attraction was instant. He with his milky skin and ice blue eyes framed with lashes so long, even Maybelline would be jealous. There was something so approachable and gentle about him and yet, he had this dude vibe that unnerved me just enough to peak my interest. His blue convertible Porsche didn’t hurt either.
There was a short attempt at dating.
"I’m going to walk down to the Santa Monica Pier later, if you’re around, maybe you’d like to join,” was his way of asking me out and back then, that was enough for me, so I went. The date was fun, but all I could think about was kissing him and when that finally happened a few hours later, it was on! The next few weeks were less about dating and more about sex. He was an attentive lover and an excellent kisser, but there was a certain remoteness to him and eventually, things just fizzled out.
We remained friends and with the advent of Facebook, we’ve been able to stay plugged into each other’s lives. So much so, that when I saw him at the party earlier this week, it was like no time had passed – socially and sexually. Gone were the old feelings of, “Yeah, Rob’s a nice guy, but totally unavailable.” Instead, as he talked to me about his latest obsession – architecture – all I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss him.
Hours passed and after several delicious, tequila-based drinks, the desire to make out with this guy made it hard to concentrate on anything else. At the end of the night, the ride we expected to share – I was staying two blocks from his place – fell through and at his suggestion, we walked home. Walking in Los Angeles?The things a girl will do for a kiss, though it was only six or seven long blocks away.
The cool evening air felt good, sobering me up slightly and as we made our way towards our respective homes, I began to seriously consider the pros and cons of taking it from the sidewalk to the bedroom.
It would be so easy. We’ve been there and done it before. And I know he was flirting with me earlier! What’s the big deal, right?
For me, there is no big deal. I’m an expert at revisiting the beds of my exes, getting up the next day and continuing on with my life, unscathed and without regret. Sleeping with an ex-boyfriend from time to time was like an afternoon at the movies – a momentary escape into a world completely different than my own. The sex would rejuvenate me – and my ego. And that night, as I tried very hard to pay attention to the finer points of art-deco design, I was ripe for an escape.
Or so I thought.
The closer we got to where I was staying, the more conflicted I was about taking it to the bedroom.
“Do you really want to do this?” the voice of reason asked again and again, hijacking my thoughts like the hook to an annoying Katy Perry song.
Sure, it had been awhile since I’d been with a man and yes, the attention felt oh so good, but you can’t be hungry for pizza and expect to be satisfied with a tuna sandwich. I was hungry for pizza and Rob was a tuna fish sandwich. The only reason hooking up with my exes in the past worked was because I was clear about my expectations and committed to them.
I was lonely but loneliness has no place between the sheets. What tipped me off to it all was the moment I began thinking things might be different this time around and maybe we could make it work.
And if you think loneliness has no place in the bedroom, try fantasy and see where that gets you.
For all these years, I’d been able to compartmentalize the emotions from the past and enjoy the physical pleasure without getting wrapped up in any expectation of a future with each ex. Once expectation creeps into the mix, the playing field is no longer level and that makes for some pretty shaky ground.
I don’t want a relationship with Rob, but I want a relationship. As I got into bed that evening after a sweet and lingering hug on the street, I realized that had I slept with Rob, I’d be settling. And while I was horny, I was totally empowered by the fact that in spite of the alcohol-induced nostalgia I felt, I stayed true to my needs and decided to work a little harder to find some pizza.
