The other evening, after work, I went for dinner with an ex.
Any readers who follow my Facebook page would have seen my self mantra of “I will not sleep with this ex, I will not sleep with this ex, I will not sleep with this ex.”
There’s more to this story, of course.
Jareth was the first emotionally-serious relationship I had after separating from Finn. I was still dipping my toes into polyamory and exploring. I’d dated a couple, a little more casually, but when Jareth appeared, everything got shaken up.
There are several people in my life I have had that ‘soul mate’ type feeling about. I really like Elizabeth Gilbert’s definition of soul mates, how they aren’t people you have a ‘forever’ relationship with. Rather, they come into your life to shake things up and reveal yourself to you. I’ve written before about how Jareth did just that.
We ‘dated’ for an intense six weeks, broke up, and promptly started sleeping together again. I remember waking up with him one morning, and he said he wished every day could start this way.
But after a while, I couldn’t do it anymore. I woke up in his bed the day after my birthday, grabbed my things, and left.
That summer while traveling in Europe he met a beautiful girl, they fell madly in love, and she followed him back here. They started living together, in a monogamous relationship, and I felt incredibly happy for them both. I could even relate a little bit to her- head over heels, moving to this country she had never been to before in order to be with the man she loved. Alas, it was not to be. Jareth filled me in on more of the details, but long story short, domestic issues came up between them, and a need for her to return to Europe for the summer seemed to be the final straw.
She really loves this city though, and might move back.
“How do you feel about that?” I asked him, as I chowed down on my mushroom burger.
He stopped eating for a while and let go of the beer in his hand. This was serious. “If she moves back, I want her to be doing it for her. Like, if I wasn’t in the country, would she still move back? I want her to do what she wants. What I want has nothing to do with it.”
His response gave me deja vu. I remember walking down the side streets with him, one night after partying all day, a week after we had broken up; him, stumbling from his drunkenness, me, my legs shivering as I found the strength to keep him upright. We had stopped at a corner and he turned to me and out of the blue asked me, “What do you want? In life? For you? What do you want?”
The question had floored me. I remember all sorts of notions coming up in my mind about what I wanted, and as each came up, realizing that no, I didn’t actually want them. They were notions fed to me by some other lifetime, some other paradigm. A house? No. A husband? No. Children? Not sure. The question percolated with me for days as I realized I had no idea what I wanted outside of the context of a relationship with another person.
I am so glad he asked me that question. We don’t get asked that question often enough. Asking “What do you want?” without any kind of specifics attached to it? It’s not the same as asking “What do you want for breakfast?” “What do you want to see at the cinema?” “What do you want for your birthday?”
No. It is far more profound to leave it open ended, and see where your desires wander.
I realized I wanted freedom in relationships. I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to experience the wholeness and fullness of a rich and dynamic emotional and sexual life- and I think I am starting to do so.
I thought about sleeping with Jareth that night. I really did. As he talked about how he needs something right now that isn’t just casual sex, but isn’t a serious relationship either, I took mental note. He’s looking for sex with meaning. Sex that can have connection without all the other conventional trappings. He’s sitting there across the table from me, polishing off a pitcher of beer single-handedly, saying all this and I’m thinking “Shit, we could totally get drunk together and have sex.” And then I remember that whilst the emotional intensity of the relationship was great, the sex wasn’t all that fantastic. Well, of course it wasn’t: he was mostly, always, drunk. Or hungover.
Somehow our conversation touched on how his ideal would be to have two polyfidelous girlfriends, in a triad, and how I have lately come to the conclusion that sexy times with women isn’t the same without a guy involved. Do you see where the cross over might be for that? He suggested, as we were walking downtown after dinner in the vague direction of his place, that we go to a bar and be each other’s wingmen for the night. I laughed. I was tempted, slightly. I know precisely where that would have gone, and it’s nowhere I’m prepared to let things go with him.
And so how did our evening end, you ask? To answer that, I leave you with the complete (and reader-contributed) ditty I have entitled, “I do not like drunk sex or men.”
I Do Not Like Drunk Sex Or Men
I will not have sex with this ex.
I will not have sex with this ex.
I will not have sex with this ex.
To do so would just make me a wreck.
I will not have sex with this ex.
I will not screw him wearing socks.
I will not screw him in a box.
I will not screw him on a chair,
I will not screw him anywhere!
Should I meet him at his place?
Should I even dare to show my face?
Can he screw me in a dash?
Can he screw me in a flash?
I did not screw him wearing socks, I did not screw him in a box.
I did not screw him on a chair- I did not screw him *anywhere*!
I would not, could not, at a bar;
I would not, could not, not by far.
Though he did invite me out for more drinks,
And about this offer I really did think:
To get drunk, reconnect and unwind-
Who knows what ways of reconnecting we’d find?
Will this ditty be the end of all this?
The evening concluded quite pleasantly with a kiss.
And a kiss can be catching you see, like a cough.
It just takes one kiss to start another one off….
