Is the Road to Mindfulness Paved with Sex? ***

Reminder Note: the asterisks (***) means there will be sex talk. This is just a little reminder for my children that if they don’t want to read about mom’s sex life or her vagina, to skip this post. But it’s a universally useful rule for the rest of the world too.

I drove by Unboyfriend’s house yesterday. I drive by every day. Sometimes more than once, since he lives less than two blocks away from me on the main road I drive many times a day. I always glance at his place. Think about texting. Put it out of my mind. And move on with my day.

There are way too many links for Unboyfriend blogs that I could point you to, but that would take way too long, so if you are new, here’s the short version:

Met Unboyfriend on Plenty of Fish dating site. Turned out he was my neighbor (almost literally). I didn’t want a relationship. I just wanted someone to hang out with and have sex. He had every quality I did not want in a life mate: he drinks too much, works too much, doesn’t like to go out …ever, snores, smokes cigarettes, has young children. It was a home run for me. He had more than three strikes. No chance of catching feelings. But, of course, I did, because I feel everything. I had to wrap my mind around the idea that I picked him for a reason. Because it would never get serious. It was fun and it was sex. Really good sex. Really, really, really good sex. Until the sex started becoming not so good. I backed off. But every now and again, he will text out of the blue and we will get together. We watch a little tv, have a little insignificant conversation, have a few shots of tequila, go have sex, go to sleep, and I leave bright and early way before the sun rises when he leaves to go to work.

Almost four years, we’ve been doing this dance. It’s so common, that even if we don’t talk for months, the conversation is always the same.

Him: Hey Sunshine (or Hey Rainbow)

Me: Hey!

Him: You in bed for the night (because it’s always 9-9:30 ish when he texts)

Me: Not yet. You drinking?

Him: Always. Want to join me?

Me: Yes, I do!

Him: Cool. You ready now?

(then I either tell him I need to shower real quick or yes I’m ready)

Him: Text when here.

It takes me less than 30 seconds to drive to his house. I could actually walk. I don’t, but I could.

But now, years after the first fling, there are no feelings. We are just two people who completely understand the other person’s needs and we just do our thing and then go about our lives. He doesn’t feel obligated to text me the next day. And I don’t usually text him. I don’t sit around thinking about when he’s going to text me next. I just enjoy the moments we have (some days more than others).

My relationship with him is pretty much the definition of being mindful or at least living in the moment. I realized that last night as I was sitting on his couch. We never, ever talk about what we’ve been doing since the last time we saw each other. There’s no catching up. He doesn’t ask about my love life (or my life in general usually). And I don’t ask about his. We are just in that one moment. I usually walk in the door, he leans in and kisses me, I ask him what movie he’s watching, he tells me and if he’s seen it already he ruins the ending for me so I don’t even have to watch, which is fine because we usually talk through the whole movie (about nothing) while taking shots. When I’m with him, I don’t think about anything else. I don’t bother with my phone (usually because it’s so late I’m not getting any texts or calls), I don’t worry about our past or our future. We don’t talk about it. There’s never any “remember when” or “next time” talk. It’s just us. In that space and that time, just being.

I’m getting better and better at not thinking about the past or the future. I’m getting better at just being in the now, but sometimes my mind wanders and I want to be somewhere else. I want to be in a better spot. In a future spot. But I try to reel myself back in so I don’t get lost in the “what could be” while letting the “what is” pass me by.

Because of that, I finally deleted Flea Market Guy’s number for good. I was so in my head about how great things were that first month we were hanging out, I just wanted to get back to that place at all costs, but I realized FINALLY, that he was faking that first month. He wasn’t the charming, smart, funny guy he pretended to be. That was just it. He was pretending. He was being the guy he wished he was until he couldn’t fake it anymore. If he would have been honest, we, too, could have just enjoyed the now, but turns out he’s kind of a liar and a manipulator and I don’t even think he knows it.

So for self-preservation sake, I decided to walk away. I know that having me in his life would make his life better, but some people like wallowing in their miserableness (if that’s a word) and I’m done trying to fix people. I’m done trying to help people get their shit together. I’ll do it for my friends if they ask, but romantically, if I date someone again, it will have to be someone who has their shit way more together than me. And I think I’m pretty well put together at the moment.

I’m optimistic though. I don’t think I’ll be alone forever. But if that’s what happens, I will be fine with that. Because I’d rather be happy alone than always questioning and guessing what the person I love is thinking, doing, or feeling.

So for now, I’ll keep working on me. Maybe I’ll go get naked occasionally with my unboyfriend. Maybe the road to mindfulness is paved with sex. Or maybe the sex was only so good because I put my hands-free orgasm meditation techniques to work while having sex.

Maybe there’s a very good chance it would have been good with anybody. Maybe I’ll have to do some more “field study” to see.

The book I read on inner peace keeps assuring me that the way to achieving inner peace is to let go of physical desire and I guess, eventually, physical touch. I haven’t convinced myself that I’m ready for that level of inner peace. I guess I’ll keep reading and meditating until I figure it out…