Thursday, August 28, 2008

sex with an ex...

Ok…so I know…I know that I wrote the seemingly conclusive “ex-files” (you know the one where we decided that the ex-factor is always a bad idea) which might lead you to wonder why, not very long after, I am writing this…

Because…as we all know…on this path towards brilliance, there is a tendency to falter. Enough said.

Back to the sex. And the ex.

I have always made it a point to not be promiscuous or casual in my intimate interactions. Mostly because it just doesn’t seem like a good idea. And it’s not safe. And I just can’t open myself up like that unless I know (or at least think) the person has some level of spiritual integrity. Seems like a decent plan, right? Well…there’s a catch…because you see…I HAVE allowed myself, on occasion, to slip back into a bed I’ve been in before. My logic (?): it doesn’t really count because we’ve done it before. I know, logic is clearly the wrong word…rationalization is probably a better one.
This pretty much brings us up to date.

The expectation with this “recycled lover” is that you already know each others bodies and it will most likely be good(ish). And a connection has already been established so it will be emotionally safe and comfortable

*insert ‘wrong answer’ sound effect here*.

The truth of the matter (at least most of the time, and in this case) is that it has much of the same disappointment that is produced by a one night stand. With the added bonus of a can-of-worms the has been opened and now needs to be dealt with…

Not only is it usually disappointing, but the ever-present reason why you chose not to be together in the first place looms over the situation like a rain cloud…not that it’s totally void of a silver lining. I mean…physically there may be some ‘in the moment’ satisfaction…but instant gratification comes with a cost.
Because there’s the next day…
And the day after that…and it’s easy to get lost in a downward-spiral of thoughts of attachment, “what if?”, and worst of all regret…

it’s particularly dangerous for me because I have the tendency to conveniently ‘forget’ the past. Tucking away my reasoning for exiting stage left in the first place and reveling in the moment. And I wake up the next morning with the residue of sweetness from the night before and sentimental staging for what might happen next. With the glow of rose colored eye balls (I don’t wear glasses to bed) I roll over to stare at the face lying next to me. Nostalgic emotions give me the allowance to smile safely and sigh from the sheer pleasure of human contact.

And then I leave…opening the front door and walking out into the day feeling good about all that has transpired. But…when the light of morning hits the still fresh thoughts of what happened it creates the beginning of a shadow. And by the time I reach my car and open the door I have already shed the sweetness and realize that (even though I always carry a toothbrush) there is a sour taste in my mouth.

And as I drive away I try to salvage the euphoria of the previous night, I try to pull up the file and scan through to find the goods….but (as I have already mentioned) no matter how I rearrange it…the words read the same.

Defendant: guilty as charged. CASE CLOSED.

Or at least it was supposed to be…

Apparently I should step down as judge. Because I allow appeals to be heard and override the verdict a little to often. ‘Guilty’ has become relative.

The most disturbing part isn’t necessarily the act…I mean that’s the least of it…but that I am willing to settle for mediocre interactions with someone I have already decided wasn’t ‘it’. And that for a brief moment I actually allow myself to change my view of the situation and entertain thoughts of rekindling some sort of romance that didn’t serve me then and certainly doesn’t serve me now…

The moral of this story…

Recycled lovers should be taken immediately to the curb, placed in the blue bin, and taken to the factory. From here he can be truly broken down and turned into something unrecognizable, sustainable, and actually useful. The sordid and used past becomes POST-CONSUMER waste…

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