The other day, I was having lunch with my best friend, Sasha. I ordered a chicken wrap, and when it was placed in front of me, the strangest thing happened. I sat staring at it for a minute, taking note of its perfect length and girth, its smooth texture. I picked it up, and it was too large to hold with just one hand; I had to use both hands to pull it expertly to my lips. Before I put it in my mouth, I inhaled deeply, taking in its almost sensual aroma. Eyes closed, I used my tongue to gently lick off some chipotle sauce that had dribbled out of it. It tasted so good, it made my mouth water as I leaned into it, anticipating it's delicious fullness in my mouth. I tilted my head to the side, lips parted, tongue still softly lapping up the delicious sauce as a moan escaped my throat.
"Sonja!" Sasha snapped. "Are you going to eat that chicken wrap or make love to it?"
It occurred to me at that moment that everywhere I went, everything I saw, everything I did had somehow become sexual to me. I didn't want to tell her about the moment I shared with a chocolate dipped cone from Dairy Queen the night before. Or the fact that I stood in the men's section of a department store running my hands across the firm chest of a mannequin, gazing longingly into his wooden eyes as I slowly manipulated the buttons of the Liz Claiborne shirt it was displaying, until the store clerk kindly asked me to leave.
I am a menace to society. And why, you ask? Why has everything in my otherwise normal world turned into the makings of a really bad porno? Because I—at the height of my sexual prime, no less—had decided to quit having sex until I have established a relationship with a strong foundation built on respect, admiration and friendship. Because, based on my track record, falling into bed with someone before really getting to know them doesn't work. So I'm holding out, which of course is driving me slowly insane, because as everyone knows, we always want most what we can't have.
"Sonja," Sasha said sympathetically, "why don't you stop putting so much pressure on yourself? I completely respect that fact that you've decided to wait for the right person before embarking on a sexual relationship, but what about Ian? You've spent almost every day with him since you two met, and he is amazing. I'm not just saying that because he's one of my husband's best friends, but because he truly is a great guy. And you guys are so good together. What's the hold up? Have you seen the way he looks at you? God, I don't know how you've lasted this long."
Spoken like a woman who is happily married and has a sexy husband to satisfy her anytime her little heart desires. What does she know? Married people always oversimplify things; they don't remember how tough it really is out here.
Anyone who is single can testify that things just aren't that simple in the cold, cruel world of dating. It's complicated. We always want what we can't have. And if we are lucky enough to get what we want, once we have it, we question how we got it, and if we really want it anymore. Then, once we decide that we don't really want what we thought we wanted, we dump what we have to go find what we want. At that very same time, what we had finds what he wants, and we spend the rest of our lives feeling sorry for ourselves because we had what we wanted, only we didn't want it anymore and now we want what we can't have. Or, worse, what we want doesn't want us, so our insecurities cause us to make up horrible things about him in our minds to make ourselves want him less, only in the end, we want him more, because we want what we can't have. Simple? I think not.
As I sat across from Ian that night at Roy's, listening to him talk and laughing at all of his silly anecdotes, I couldn't believe how taken I was with him. I admired his intellect, respected the way he treated the wait staff and everyone around us. I enjoyed the easygoing friendship we shared, his ability to make me laugh and the way he read me well enough to finish my sentences. He is a kindhearted, generous, spiritual, interesting and very sexy man. And I decided that I wanted him. Sasha was right, what was I waiting for? Did I somehow think that time would ensure an everlasting relationship? There are no guarantees in life. You just have to follow your heart and trust yourself.
I cut him off mid-sentence. "Ian ... I want you," I said.
A smile crossed his beautiful lips, and he responded, "Thank you, Sonja. I'm so flattered..."
Game on!
"But I'm leaving tomorrow for 10 days, and it would be too difficult to spend the night with you and then leave for so long. I think it would be better to wait. Besides, we have plenty of time for that, I'm so enjoying getting to know you and spending time cultivating our relationship ..."
Access denied!
Oh. My. God. What I wanted didn't want me. Not when I wanted it. And I want what I want when I want it. I hate him, he must be gay, I don't want him.
Just then, he took my hand and kissed it. "Make no mistake about it," he said. "I want you, too. And I know it's going to be incredible, but I just wouldn't feel right leaving you for so long right afterward. On the bright side, this trip will fly by, now that I have something to look forward to when I get home."
I want him.
Just then, our dinners were brought to the table. I deeply inhaled the almost sensual aroma of the macadamia nut encrusted mahi-mahi and I slowly brought it to my lips, eyes closed, head slightly tilted to one side as I anxiously awaited the delicious taste to fill my mouth. As it crossed my lips a small moan escaped from my throat. I was going to make love to that dinner; it was as close as I was going to get to real sex—for 10 days, anyway.