Thursday, October 18, 2007

Sexual Starvation

The guy with the funny name doesn't want to have sex with me. Dozens of people would like to have sex with me, and they can't because either I don't have time for them, I'm not choosing them, or they don't know me. Yet he who could have my juices all over his face within seconds of his penetrating gaze is turning me down. Let me add that we had already been fucking for a couple of months.

This is not a complete rejection. He didn't say he doesn't want to date me, or that he doesn't desire me. He just doesn't want to have sex with me. When he first told me this in a nervous rambling of confused logic, I was so thrown off that I temporarily regressed to the self-pitying mentality of a prom-date reject circa 1993. A litany of excuses followed: "There's so much more to life than sex--not that sex isn't enjoyable, it's just not a priority. Something is missing, I feel shitty afterwards, empty. Maybe I don't know you well enough."

These are all valid reasons for wanting to slow down...if he had a pussy. Don't get me wrong--I adore emotionally-liberated men. I'm just not used to a straight man refusing sex from me, or any hot and horny woman for that matter. If he is physically attracted to me, I expect he wants to fuck me, regardless of whether I pay him any attention. If the attraction is mutual, and we connect on many levels (erotically, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually), but he does not wish to act on lust, I am one vexed vixen. Unless he is monogamously married / committed to someone else, frightfully religious, ill or paranoid of STD's.

The guy with the funny name is none of the above. Last time I checked, he was passionately into me. "There's fire between us," he said not too long ago. So why the sudden withdrawal?

He who has only had sex within the context of longterm monogamous relationships threw himself into my libertine world for the sake of trying something new, and now he is experiencing emotional backdraft. Apparently the fire of curious desire was depleting the oxygen of his romantic ideals.

So he says he doesn't want to have sex with me. Chaos of impending doom followed initial shock. "Why does it feel like a break-up? What does this mean? You want an old-fashioned courtship? Can we hold hands? I guess we could only meet in public places. But if I see other people, well, I do see other people, and if I'm having sex with them and not you, I'm going to feel closer to them, and consequently I might lose interest in you."

"I know...that's a reality I have to face," he said.

Later that night, he came up to my place to use the bathroom, and we ended up having passionate sex. He slept over, entwined in my perilous arms. The next morning we fucked again like genuine lovers, for old times sake. I refrained from seduction. He couldn't resist his own desire.

We haven't had sex since then. I respected his needs and convinced myself that it might not be such a bad idea to abstain. It could be romantic. I could fantasize that we're living in the 1950's, or that he's my medieval knight aspiring to the purest form of love. We had a few dates and grew closer as he helped me through a recent crisis. I forgot about the sex for a while, and saw the value in his decision. Maybe there is something about getting to know someone before you get to know his body. But he interrupted our sensual flow! Come on, be an optimist. Intentional abstinence can be erotic. Arousing each other with kisses and eye-gazing then refraining from going any further, building up desire and anticipation while space is filled with meaningful mindful connection...think of it as extended foreplay. And if it doesn't work out, I won't be bawling over orgasms never had.

We were progressing nicely, until I read an article: "He's Just Not That Into It" by Em and Lo on It was about how men are increasingly rejecting casual sex. I forwarded the article to the guy with the funny name because certain parts resonated with me and I thought he might relate to it on some level, particularly the line: "Putting aside any situation-specific reasons—she's too drunk, she's a stalker, she's got a goiter—some guys are finding they don't like how casual sex makes them feel."

His response was confounding. Despite a few flattering words, it felt bitter and disparaging toward casual sex in a way that negatively reflected onto me. It also had the careless undertones of someone who is drifting away.

I never felt like our sex was casual and I suppose he felt the same, but now it seems that anything but that completely in love soul-connected sex is casual to him. Casual sex means different things to different people. I don't like disconnected I guess disconnected sex is casual sex for me. And disconnected sex can exist in any context. I'd rather have a one-night stand with someone with whom I feel a really strong lust connection than disconnected sex within a long-term love relationship--(which is worse than a disconnected one-night stand because you can't just forget about it and move on with your life the next day.)

He wrote that casual sex is a "selfish, empty way to live" and that "using people to quench some temporary lust" leaves him cold. Well, I could say that he used me to investigate something he had been curious about. So what? Everyone uses each other. It may as well be for pleasure than for pain. For me, sex is not just about giving. Most of the time it is give and take--an exchange of desire, pleasure, and ultimately love. Other times it's just for the taking. If it's just desire and pleasure, usually it's great. I've also had the experience where it was just pleasure (passively slipping into a sexual situation without much desire for the person), and although that's not my preferred form of sex, part of me still enjoyed it. (I've had this type of one-way sex in long-term relationships as well). In most situations there was no reason to refuse pleasure if someone was willing to give it to me.

Sex is, above all, pleasure wrapped within a biological drive. Of course sharing this biological drive with someone you deeply love is the highest form of sex. But that type of sex is rare. I have slept with dozens and dozens of takers and encountered the highest form of sex only a few times. Most people are lucky to discover it once in a lifetime. Many people never find it. Should they deny themselves the highest form of physical pleasure on account of an elusive feeling? Are they selfish for taking the least of what is offered to them?

Am I selfish for enjoying sex for whatever it's worth, in all its wonderful variety?

But he says I'm different than the rest! I am, but I'm also part of the rest. I don't judge them for using people to quench their temporary lust. I'm no stranger to that motivation.

What is most authentic about the topic in the article is this: "Women, it seems, just aren't used to guys not wanting sex." Especially me. Says "Jeff," a 27-year-old grad student in New York, "We're socially conditioned to feel like pussies if we don't live up to the guys-will-fuck-anything stereotype. And because of this stereotype, women take sexual rejection more personally than men do." This resonated with me as the guy with the funny name doesn't fit the stereotype. And I definitely felt personally rejected when he first expressed his desire to bottle up our sex.

Ironically, we share the same romantic ideals. The difference is that I don't stop eating if I'm not in love with the food.