This is a serial about love and awakening. Previously: After making love with me most of the night, Billy leaves in the morning to see another woman. See Recent Posts to start with Part One.
I call you the commentatorati, and these days I live for your comments.
Want to know how the stream has been flowing?
When I started this blog, you saw Billy as troubled, a player, a fool, a jerk, a turkey, emotionally abusive, “ridiculously immature and frighteningly inappropriate,” a control freak and master manipulator. You diagnosed him as a narcissist or borderline personality. One of you did find him wise, a few men cheered and several women got turned on. “I could feel myself being attracted to him, even though I knew he was a manipulative bastard.” But the majority were saying: Run, Sara, run!
When I did not run, the tide began to turn. You pointed out, correctly, that I was participating in the game, that I’d had plenty of chances to bail and didn’t and had no one to blame but myself. I agree! Many became frustrated: Why didn’t you hang up the phone? Walk away? Just say no? When something about a guy just doesn’t feel right, believe it! How could you fall into the trap? You knew better! An old boyfriend from high school said he’d lost all respect for me.
Barb wrote, “I was with `Billy’ for 3 years. I was totally addicted. Willpower has nothing to do with it. This kind of guy is definitely like heroin. I feel so good when I am around him. I can’t do without him. The longer it goes on, the worse it gets.”
Others said it’s a dopamine high. “The chemistry shoots through our veins like a good drug. We see the red flag, we know it’s wrong but we can’t stop ourselves.”
But Self-respecter called it “sick! I don’t understand the addiction excuse. Heroin would feel good too, but you don’t do it. Why this?”
I’m not sure of the answer, Self-respecter, but I know that heroin is not my “bane,” as they say on the street. My poison.
I never smoked or got hooked on alcohol, pills or controlled substances, and for a long time I refused to believe that I could be addicted to love and sex or that such an addiction even existed. But we’ll be coming to that later in the story.
At this point in the tale, I’m aware that my mind is yelling, “Stop,” my body is saying, “Go,” and my inner knowing is: “Danger.” I asked you all what you would trust – the body, the mind or the knowing. Not one of you said you would trust the body.
Some urged me to go for the sex and “don’t make it anything more.” Good advice, dear readers, but I’m constitutionally incapable of doing that. When sex is that great, when your tastes and fantasies and rhythms match and you want it to the same degree (not a common occurrence), feelings of love surge and I want both. Sex and love.
The discussion heated up when Rick, the Celestial Cowboy Poet (I’ll call him CCP) became our agent provocateur. CCP likes to play games and suggests we aging chicks should be grateful if a guy wants to shtup us. “Look,” he wrote, “Billy is younger than you, a cowboy who’s free as a tumbleweed. He’s sexually attractive just as you were when you were younger. But Billy wants to play the field. You are another flower on the hillside, just as Dinah Shore was with Burt Reynolds. Be content to play the field. A woman of your stature should date, dine, sleep with anyone who meets your fancy. After all…Sex is just a big Tickle.”
Women shot back. “What a ridiculous moron you are,” wrote A Grown-Up. “Playing the field is not what we have to accept and being free (being used) is not the only way to go! Sex will never be anything more than “a big tickle” for babies like you and Billy, who will never grow up and never grow the gray matter between their ears.”
But one woman, Annie, wants to hook up with CCP. (He’s interested, Annie. See his comment below.)
The debate was intense, but when I slept with Billy (which was fantastic) and he said he was still going to date two other women, the shit hit the fan. I heard: You’re a masochist. I feel sorry for you. You are horny and lonely and vulnerable and he’s playing you like a harmonica. You got what you deserve, sister!
Even CCP was disgusted, but with Billy, not me. “When he’s just made love with you and starts talking about other women… UGH! The guy is beginning to sound like a Neanderthal ostrich. (Did such an animal ever exist?) On behalf of the entire male race, Sara, I apologize.
Joey applied salve to the wound. “You are NOT a fool. Did you sleep with the guy too soon? Yeah, well, we all have. We are loving, sexy and we want to be able to be vulnerable, to let down our guard with a man. You did that, and if he didn’t cancel the other dates because he saw how incredible you are… tough for him.”
Here’s where we are now. You’re still asking, Why are you doing this? Why stick around with that nogoodnik? What does Sara want? Dear God, what does she want?
As the old hymn goes, “We will understand it better by and by.”
This blog is based on a true story, but I’ve changed names and identifying details to protect privacy. I’ve also, in a few cases, compressed time or altered elements to serve the narrative. The title “Sex Love Enlightenment” is an homage to Mark Matousek’s book, Sex Death Enlightenment