This Then

it’s the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here’s a cock
and here’s a cunt
and here’s trouble.

only each time
you think
well now I’ve learned:
I’ll let her do that
and I’ll do this,
I no longer want it all,
just some comfort
and some sex
and only a minor
love.

now I’m waiting again
and the years run thin.
I have my radio
and the kitchen walls
are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
and listening
for footsteps.

I hope that death contains
less than this.

~ Charles Bukowski

When did it all get so difficult? As a teenager, I slipped in and out of puppy love like so many trendy t-shirts. Does this match? It clashes? No problem, change! Not flattering? Buh-bye! In the infamous words of Janis Joplin, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”. As all encompassing as young love feels at the time, we know somewhere in the back of our minds that our whole lives are ahead of us; that the likelihood of ending up with our adolescent heartthrobs is slim to none.

Fast forward a couple decades and the whole game changes. As we get older we become more aware of our mortality. Nothing left to lose? Time becomes more valuable as it diminishes, doesn’t it? Both personally and professionally I find myself less willing to put up with people’s garbage and less likely to compromise on my own expectations for myself.

I believe we really do get what we settle for. I’ve been single now for a little more than two years. To be honest though, you can’t force the “it” factor. Regardless of what someone looks like on paper (or looks like period, really), you either feel “it” or you don’t.

It’s been comfortable having this time to myself. I’ve focused on my career, on my friendships. More importantly I have focused on evolving who I am: by rediscovering myself after my last relationship ended. I’ve had time to resolve within myself just what it is I want out of a relationship, and time to become strong enough to hold out for nothing less.

But then there’s the sex part. Let’s be honest… it’s different for women. A sought after man who takes pleasure in one conquest after another is still regarded with pats on the back from his peers. For women, though it isn’t the same as it used to be… if she’s too promiscuous she’s a slut. I’m just going to come out and say it straight: there’s nothing wrong with that. Be a slut, if that’s what you want to be. If that’s what makes you happy, if it satisfies you… who cares? I think the women are calling each other sluts more than the men are these days.

On the flip side, as much as men say they don’t care about a woman’s promiscuity: I don’t believe them. Confession: I care less about what they think when I care less period. It’s my body, it’s my life. Ultimately I let myself do what I want to do. Personally speaking, I don’t “want to” with someone new very often, and if I do want to… I usually want more than just that. What makes me “want to” are the same things that make me “want YOU”. If I want you I want you. And if I want you I want you all the time. Anywhere. Any way.

Does that mean if we have sex I want to marry you? No. Does it mean if I have sex with you I think we should immediately be in an “official relationship”? No. Not every woman sees it the same way I do, this is just how I feel. What I do want to know is that doors are not closed before they open. What I do want to know is that the possibility is there for it to evolve, for us to become… close.

Love and sex, two words thrown around so casually they have become watered down and redefined. What about being close to someone? That’s what I want more than anything else. An intimacy so intense it scares the crap out of me, yet is so intoxicating I can’t fathom not having it. Sex can be part of that… or not. Sex can instigate that… or not. Truth is, even when we feel that “it” factor, we don’t know for sure that the closeness will come: or that we want it to. The best I can say I know when I feel “it” is that I want to find out if it might be worth it to be that vulnerable… to allow the closeness to come. To allow myself to cum.

It’s complicated.