Thoughts After Having Sex With Him


I couldn’t sleep at all the first night with him. I literally sat there awake, contemplating if it would be fucked up to just call a taxi and go home. Maybe I could just leave a post-it? I could pull a Berger from Sex and the City, but I wouldn’t turn out to be a total douchebag (#teamAidan). Simply put, I was exhausted and the thought of my bed and watching Scrubs until I passed out was beyond tantalizing.

I got up and walked around, thinking it would make me sleepy. Ah, yes, let me just walk around in a circle for 10 minutes, THAT OUGHTTA DO THE TRICK!! Nope, still wired. Still awake. I got back into bed and gently nuzzled into him, but with the hope that maybe he would wake up and we could go round two. I tried to make it seem like it was just how I slept, but I was consciously backing dis ass all up into him. He stirred, momentarily, but then fell back asleep. And I sighed a little too melodramatically. I really wanted to go round 2. I’m a big fan of sex more than once in a night. I just like sex a lot in general. My friends joke that I’m a dude, and I probably would have been better as one. I think about sex too much. I talk about sex too much. I joke about sex too much. I’m actually turning myself on right now. Seexxxxxx. But where I would suck as a completely stereotypical, heterosexual male is my annoying I-need-to-feel-a-connection-to-someone-to-really-enjoy-sex thing. I’m not talking full blown (BLOW JOB JOKE) love and let’s get married and have kids type connection, but there’s got to be something deeper there. And it’s a rarity that I feel that. But this isn’t supposed to be about me, it’s supposed to be about that guy. (Okay, okay, mostly me, you caught me)

That guy…and as I looked over at him sleeping, I started to do what I always do. Overanalyze the shit out of EVERYTHING.

My first thought, what if he has abandonment issues already? Here, he wakes up after having sex with this woman for the first time and she’s gone ahead and left in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. I don’t know what his relationship with his mother is like! I actually like to function under the assumption that people don’t even have parents, but he mentioned her name, so I figured she was probably alive. Last guy I dated was an actual orphan by age 12, my high school boyfriend lost his dad, and my dad died when I was sixteen, so you never know. Psssttttt: Debbie downer alert.

Also, I have no idea his dating history. I only knew his heart had been shattered not too long before we met, and I didn’t want to trigger anything. What if this ex who hurt him left one night while he was asleep? She just packed her bags and took off into the dark, and he woke up, turned around to kiss her, AND SHE WAS GONE FOREVERRRRR.

Oh, and what if he was insecure about his sex-making-abilities, that’s something that really concerns men, right? See, I would have said love-making, but I actually cannot stand that phrase. I’ve made love before, but it wasn’t with a penis in my vagina (or any other holes, this wasn’t some sly I’ve had anal comment). That’s not love-making, but I digress. What if girls in the past had made him feel less than worthy in the sex department? Now, I haven’t had tons of experience, but I’ve had enough to know that men are sensitive little creatures. Then I thought, OH MY GOD WHAT IF HE WAS A VIRGIN?

Then I remembered he brought me to orgasm (high-five!), so no, probably not a virgin. And if so, damn. You go, Glen Coco. And suddenly, something horribly gross happened as I was looking at him and thinking about all the reasons I probably shouldn’t leave:

I realized I didn’t want to leave. Ew. feelings. Disgusting.

I wasn’t ready to like someone. I wasn’t ready to open myself up to all the possibility of hurt and vulnerability and frustration. I wasn’t ready to have all these feelings. What are you supposed to do when you discover all these feels that you have no idea what to do with?

I think most of us find we’re the happiest when we have someone to be a mess with. Someone to take care of, and let them nurture you right back and try to make one another happy. But also realize that at the end of the day, we’re not responsible for the happiness of anyone else. We are the only ones in charge of our emotions at the end of the day. But it sure is nice to have someone you like sitting next to you.

Yes, it’s true, I want that. But I don’t go out looking for it. I don’t even really go out, to be honest. My idea of a good time is a little drinking in my apartment with my roommates, and I’m usually wearing boxers and dancing on the couches. But you ask me to step outside???? UMM, I’ll pass. I’m still figuring out who I am, so why waste my time looking to complicate the situation with another person?

I am starting to crave being alone. And yeah, I’m lonely, but that doesn’t always go hand in hand with being alone. I’ve been incredibly lonely with people. And when I’m alone, I’m with the person who understands me the most: me.

Nobody tells you just how dangerous it is to actually want to be alone. Sometimes, I feel like I’m suffocating when I’m with the rest of society. I slip back into my room and finally can breathe. I should probably just go back to my therapist, but instead, I write a poem and tell myself I’ve figured it out. That maybe because I’m super open about my feelings and the things that are wrong with me, I’m somehow more healthy. As if I’m well-adjusted for pointing out why I’m fucked up. I talk about my Trauma like she’s an old friend. She’s a horrible friend though, sneaking up on me when I’m not ready for her. And then I’m attracted to others who admit to being fucked up. Maybe I really am just looking for that someone who knows I’m a mess and still wants to kiss me. And I want to kiss them.

We’re all figuring ourselves out. If we knew the answers, there’d be no point in sticking around. We’re constantly changing, battling the downs, savoring the ups. I’ve spent so much time so focused on not needing someone that I forgot it’s okay to want someone.

Maybe it’s okay to want to kiss him again. It’s okay that I don’t feel the need to run, like I always do. I want to stay in bed next to him, wide awake, afraid of all these feelings. This is a good fear.

Let’s all embrace it. These feelings we have that scare us are here to remind us of something so, so important. We’re alive. Go out, and live.

Go kiss that person again. I dare you.