analyzing, questions, memories, today

When I was in college, I had no health insurance, so my only option for birth control (in the pill format) was to go through Planned Parenthood. My first exam was given by a very very kind woman doctor who, while going over my medical history with me commented on my answer for the "number of sexual partners in the last three months" question. During that time period, I was "between boyfriends", and had slept with 4 different men. My doctor's comment was "Oh, so you're shopping around?" I was totally embarrassed by that, which she could see, and immediately followed up with "really, it's okay. It's normal to go through a few partners in beween relationships, until you find someone you like." And then she smiled. I was somewhat comforted by her gesture, but in retrospect, I realize that my initial embarrassment speaks volumes as to the foundation that was laid for the rest of my ongoing sex life.

Yes, I am still embarrassed for being promiscuous. Everyday I'm made to feel in the "real world" that sexual and relationship promiscuity is either morally corrupt, emotionally dangerous, disrespectful, disempowering or a whole host of derrogatory descriptors. And yet, I'm consumed by this will to defy that massive force of negativity. My only regret is that I am unable to share this rebellion against the world with my husband. It's like having a toy that can't be played with together because for some illogical reason it will come alive and bite him and hurt him badly if he goes near it. The question becomes "Is it fair then to continue playing with this toy, if he can't partake in the fun?" The kindest option I can think of is to follow the simple guidelines of if you have to play, then "don't flaunt it", "do it on your own time", and "don't let it affect him negatively", all the while knowing: should it ever arise, I must suffer the consequences with humility and compassion.

As for that doctor's comment, I was reminded of it today because I'm still trying to figure out what it is that I'm doing with these lifestyle choices I'm making. It seems that so many of my decisions are based purely on lust, instinct and presence-of-mind-desire. And yet I can't help but wonder if there is some other, deeper, psychological motivation behind all of this. One of my girlfriends has expressed to me on two occasions now that she and my other close girlfriend had previously discussed and were "worried" about me during my Happily Single [and Extremely Promiscuous] Days. As if there might be a deeper issue at hand that would explain why I was having so much sex with such little committment. They pondered, "is she just having fun or could it be that her self-esteem and self-worth is dependant upon the attentions of these men?" Of course, I've questioned this very thought myself, and I keep coming up with the answer that something is inherently wrong with the whole line of questioning.

Has this growing list of men been a futile attempt at gaining self-worth? (Futile because apparently it doesn't work, since I have to keep going, with more and more men.) Am I simply reacting on a base level of human sexual desire, working from a no-holds-barred attitude? (ie. just having some fun) OR. The newest option: am I in the midst of shopping around? I feel quite deeply, from a realm of my heart that exists beyond time, space and rational thinking, that my husband is indeed the only man who is as compatible, as fitting, as complementary with me as is possible in this life. Our union holds something that I feel is truly remarkable, and I have utmost faith that our love will withstand whatever life throws at us. So I can't possibly be shopping around for another H. If it is the case that I am looking for something ~else~, then what could that be?

All of the men with whom I've had Adulterous Affairs were chosen with certain criteria in mind. Aside from sexual attraction (a given), they had to be on some level, "unattainable". Somehow, it had to be impractical to be with the person. This was in fact a deliberate act, in part to protect my marriage, and in part to give me an easy out. There could be no way that I would develop an emotional bond with an individual if the friendship had nothing but obstacles in the way. To an extent, I avoid developing emotional bonds with most of the men in my life, even if they are close friends with both H and myself. Perhaps it is for fear that something might occur within that emotional connection that could possibly threaten the strength of my bond with H. So I don't test it.

But sex... is a totally different story. Sex -- I can break down into attributes, personality, technique, skill, and generosity. I can mechanize it and tear it apart. I can easily admit that various aspects of each of the men I've been with get stacked up against my husband, and everytime my husband wins out, when you take the whole package to scale. Perhaps it is that bond that I cherish so much that keeps the magic between us, and remains untouched by even the most gifted of the lot. The men I've been with have been seasoned lovers, both physically and emotionally. They all have given me the distance I need, and the respect they feel I deserve. Each one of them has had realistic expectations about my marriage, and has never come close to overstepping that boundary. In a way, they've been perfect. So it seems to me that if it was a role-filler I was searching for, (in the role of long-term sideline-lover) then I've easily found a few. Yet I keep looking. So it must not be that.

Which brings me to my latest situation. What's flourishing with YoungMan is something totally different than all the others. What makes it different, I'm not quite sure of yet. But there's a twinge of immediacy that sets a different tone here. He has no wife, no kids. He goes out drinking when he wants, with whom he wants. He has total freedom over his life. He lives at home with his parents. He has no fear, and nothing to lose. He really is Youth-Incarnate, in so many ways. YoungMan lives within a half-hour of our home. We work together, so I see him everyday. The ease is astounding. When we have sex, it's joyous, acrobatic, intimate, passionately devouring, compelling, impulsive, lovely, and physically exhausting. When he looks at me, I feel something stirring inside that is frank, clear and bright. It's not just the "newness" of touch from a person other than the familiar. I don't know what it is, but I am enamoured.