Progress, Not Perfection.

So, I did not sleep with my okJew on the second date. We did however come back to my place, and have a rather heated make-out session.

It was lovely. But. I feel today no better. I realize today that even though we didn’t sleep together, which was something I didn’t want to do, knowing him so briefly, that I still feel a sense of sadness around it. And in writing some about it, I realize that it’s sad because I still don’t fully believe in my own inherent worth – that I’m more than my body.

Even when we were making out, however fun it was – and it was, and I’m sure that if we ever do have sex, there will be no problem in that regard – but I felt not fully present. I felt a little disconnected – and, really, I was. I was disconnected from the emotions that can come when you are making out with someone you know, like, and maybe even more than like. I was only acting from one part of myself, not all of me.

And, knowing that, I notice the desire to pack “Beauty” back up behind her glass terarrium, and say, see, you can’t be trusted. But really, it’s not her fault. I didn’t have to come back to my place – it could have been a short date. I didn’t have to have the extended make-out session – I could have ended it earlier. But, I did. And this is where “progress, not perfection” comes in. Because I really could beat myself up here, and retreat back into isolation, and a position of “See, you really don’t know how to hold intimacy and sexuality, so you better pack it in.”

Yes, I could do that, but I don’t think that’s the point here. The point is that I realize that heavy teenage-like petting is a little more than I want to do on a second date. I realize that I still want to feel known more than that, and have more of a connection before getting so physical. I have so much f’ing evidence of how much sex before emotional intimacy is the cart before the horse, and so, yes, I can beat myself up for not having learned that “well enough,” or I can be glad that I didn’t have sex when I didn’t really want to, and be glad that I let him know it was time to go, and didn’t interpret his erection as an obligation, as I wrote yesterday. (But, … Whoo-ee! … anyway…) ;)

So, there’s that. Of course, I begin to go all the way to, now I better let him know what I’m looking for before there’s a third date, and another round of, okay thanks, bye! That I need to explain what I’m available for, and to ask if that’s what he’s available for.

Some of this sounds valid, some of it sounds unnecessary. I tend to be an oversharer. I don’t think I need to do that, or at least, I don’t need to do that today. I won’t see him again, likely, for another week or so, as he’s busy during the week, and I’m camping this weekend, so I have time to let some of this dust settle and ask some women, and see what happens.

We did have a good date, overall. In fact, it was a great date. But I feel overshadowed by my remorse.

Again, it comes back to choice. I can choose to see this as a failure, and head down to self-flagellation, and I’ll never get it, and how come you don’t get that you’re worth it – that makes you so not worth it. (A lovely circle of reasoning, that one.) Or. Or I can choose to see this as an opportunity, as I spoke so much of yesterday. An opportunity to notice my growth and change, and also to be happy (or at least contented) that I do notice how I’m feeling, and how I was feeling last night. I wasn’t feeling present, and that I wasn’t feeling present is a good thing. That I noticed it. Noticing it is the first step, I think. Then I can work on doing something about it.

I’ve written a lot of poetry about not feeling present during sex. Now, I know that that can extend to making out if I’m not properly known by someone, and they’re not known by me. This person is nearly an entirely unknown entity – of course I don’t feel intimate.

So, I can choose to take this as information for next time – whether that’s with this person, or someone down the line. I can choose to allow myself a little bit of affirmation over keeping my pants on. I can choose to acknowledge that I’ve come a long way to be so present with myself to notice these even slightly off-kilter parts of me.

Forgive the reference… but, in the final Twilight book (spoiler alert?), the main character, Bella, throws an invisible defensive bubble out around herself and her family during the cumulative battle. Imagine it almost like a Bio-Dome, to mix pop-culture metaphors. In the book, Bella can feel as one of the opponents pokes into the various places of her bubble, looking for a weak spot – testing the defenses, and seeing how strong it is. I feel very similarly about this work with dating/physicality. I feel that my bubble is being poked and prodded, and I’m getting to see where I still have spots of weakness, or places that can be firmed up.

I am sad that I don’t yet feel that I’m worth more than my body, or that I could be wanted or acknowledged or “seen” for more than my physical self. But, this is simply a place of “weakness,” a place where I could use more care and strength and affirmation, and behavior that will support the idea that I am more than that. So, I am glad for the opportunity. I’ve been shown where there’s work to do – and if that’s not what relationships are for, then I’ve got the wrong game.