It's like Sex and the Suburbs and 30 Rock all rolled into one…
A Fake Reader Asks:
I am fully of the opinion that everyone has one great love in their life. Unfortunately, I’ve already met mine. We dated in college, fell madly in love, and had I not ruined things I am convinced we’d be married. We both made mistakes, but mine were the grievous ones. For a few years we could not speak to each other. Any attempts at conversation become awkward and futile. You see, we were still too hurt and angry and betrayed to have any sort of meaningful conversation. And you can only talk so much about a sports team off-season before silences and “hrms” begin to dominate the discussion. But a few weeks ago we randomly met up at an event and perhaps it was the glow of the pulled pork served that night, but we got to talking and the entire party melted away. We’ve been going back and forth on the facebook and texts, and we’ve begun to flirt with each other. He wants to get together for drinks, and I have a feeling that we both want to sleep with each other. We’ve both experienced droughts, and we had fantastic sexual chemistry. I’m just not sure what to do.
Not Looking for Dan Savage
It’s good that you’re not looking for Dan Savage. While he has a successful relationship with a life partner of many years, I am still trying to figure out the appropriate time between date and text. It is humbly that I attempt to answer your question oh dear fake reader of mine!
Don’t do it. Okay, don’t do it unless you both know what it is that you want. A good friend of mine – oh fuck it, that’s not going to work. A few years ago I thought I had met the man of my dreams; it didn’t work out. When we were finally done being hurt, betrayed and angry, we got to talking. We had been great friends before our relationship, and I think we both wanted that rewarding friendship once more. After much back and forth, late night phone calls, and lengthy emails of fantastic substance, we went out for lunch. A mid-day meal, after all, was not romantic. Falafel and tea a date doesn’t make at eleven in the morning. It was just lunch. Except that it wasn’t. We fell into all the familiar routines of dating. He fell into the same comfortable stride with me, laughed at all my jokes like he had not so very long ago, and smiled that same smile. And I wasn’t without blame either. I told amusing jokes, wore sexy boots, and expressed my desire to have the people around me content and happy. It was, he said, the thing he loved most about me. I was at the time on top of him, and though fully clothed, I knew I wasn’t staying that way long. The sex, as usual, was amazing. It was as if he hadn’t forgotten what worked, and he worked hard.
But the thing of it is, as we fell into the comfortable routines of hand holding and afternoon delight, I began to fall into the comfortable routine of thinking of him as I had before. And that wasn’t going to work. We weren’t dating; he didn’t want to date anyone because of the demands of his job. He was looking for comfort while I had moved past the need for only physical contact and wanted, finally, an emotional connection. We finally had a talk, and it was a good clearing of the air. No, we didn’t end up in bed, on the floor or the kitchen table that night.
So my fictitious reader, what is it? Do you two want a do-over? Do you want to try again, knowing why and how it didn’t work the first time or are you both randy as all get-up? Because if it’s the latter, my advice is no. You may think you won’t feel lovelorn, but you will. Sex brings back those happy feelings of closeness and love. And if you want to be open for healthy and new relationships with men who wish to adore you, fucking your ex is a bad idea.