On a recent trip to New York, I had an encounter — with a guy I’d long had a crush on — that was surprisingly steamy and altogether satisfying. And it caused me to feel I’d proven a theory I’d been postulating for years. It is, as follows:
At a certain point in a girl’s dating career, she may find herself at a crossroads, her inner voice saying something like: “Well, I’m not attracted to him, per se. But he’s smart. And [insert any of the following adjectives, though there are plenty more that work]: funny, successful, Jewish, available. And he likes me!”
Then that girl will do whatever it is she needs to do in order to will her body or pheromones or eyes into going along with what her brain has decided she will do. This may involve alcohol, pot (as any “Annie Hall” fan well knows), denial, repression or just a few well-timed self-pep talks.
And so she will date this available man for however long she does. She may well marry him. But what she’s forgotten — what I’d forgotten the times that I was this girl — is that the difference between being with someone you’ve told yourself you should be with and being with someone whose clothes you need to tear off with your mouth, whose body you’re dying to lick everywhere he will let you, is, essentially, the difference between the meal you would pick if you knew it was your last meal and a gluten-free, sugar-free cleanse.
During droughts, a woman may tell herself that soulful, body-slapping, sweat-drenched sex is something that doesn’t exist or she doesn’t care about or deserve. And I’m here to tell that girl that she’s wrong.
We’re taught, of course, that we should only be sexual with people we love, or at least want to love. And while that’s, of course, ideal, the 50 percent-and-rising divorce rate and prevalence of places specializing in special massages indicates, perhaps, that we do not live in an ideal world. In my 30s, it took me awhile to learn — and even longer to accept — that I can have a thoroughly delightful sexual experience with a man who is in no way appropriate for a long-term relationship.
So I say that if you’re defying the norm and remaining single while the high school friends whose photos fill your Facebook feed took the more traditional path, you deserve to have as much soulful, body-slapping, sweat-drenched sex as you want. Which means that you shouldn’t allow yourself to be talked into trying to like the friend of your friend, who makes a good living and owns a home and claims to be 5-foot-7.
Unless, of course, that’s what you want. But if that’s not you? Always remember that we deserve rich desserts at any age, no matter how long its been since we’ve even considered ordering the chocolate soufflé.
My recommendation: Picture the dessert of your dreams and know you can have it — maybe not every night, but know that it’s there for the taking, if only you’ll allow yourself to believe it’s possible.
If you want to beat yourself up for your order, though, that’s on you.