The Wrestler

Do you ever notice how Jews tend to answer a question with a question?

Why shouldn’t we answer with a question?

Call it the Jew in me, call it the Libra, call it the overactive thinking machine tucked behind my eyeballs, but I question things a lot. And repeatedly.

Little though I know about Judaism and even littler about other religions, Jews are purported to “wrestle and grapple” with G-d. This is our purpose—not necessarily to obey a god, as perhaps some religions require, but to wrestle, argue, question, mull, and ponder.

I have a date with the 25 y.o. on Saturday. We haven’t seen one another since our “State of the Union” conversation last week when it was decided that we don’t see a relationship happening, but we genuinely enjoy one another’s company and also are very attracted to one another.

This led us to the conclusion that we won’t see one another less, and be in the ambiguity of friends but not friends. Until one of us doesn’t gel with the ambiguity anymore.

I think that one is me.

See, I sort of know this scenario: Now that we’ve agreed to be more “casual,” that probably means sex, which we haven’t had yet. In my experience, here’s how casual sex goes: You have good to great (and occasionally lackluster and regretful) sex with someone a few times. Maybe twice, maybe three times. And soon, since the investment isn’t really there, the communication begins to wane, you text one another less and less, until soon you don’t communicate at all, and sort of fall out of the orbit of one another’s lives.

So, for me, in my own experience (and I know this isn’t everyone’s), casual sex = the end of a potential friendship. It just does.

What I wrestle with right now, then, is how important is that potential friendship to me? How important is this person in the mosaic of my life? For now, not very, but as I said, we do have a lot to talk about and a lot I’d like to continue to talk about – beyond all the theater intel I want to glean.

So that’s not a very good measuring stick, then. Because it’s ambiguous.

Let’s try another model I use to tease out information from myself.

In meditation, I sometimes go to this long dining table in a small house. It’s a large, wooden, old-time crafted, dark stained table with divets and dents in it. A long-loved and -used table. Seated around this table are all the disparate parts of myself I've been able to gather so far: the brain, the nymph, the baker, the child, the sorrow, the jokester, the anger, love, vanity, warrior, healer, to name several.

So, I asked this gathered group: All in favor of sleeping with the 25 y.o.?

Up go the hands of the nymph and the brain.

All in favor of not sleeping with the 25 y.o.?

Up go the hands of every other entity at the table.

Hmmm. … Well, nymph, yes, of course, you lovely and talented minx you. I expect as much, and that’s okay. You’re at the table because you’re valued, and your vote has been heard.

Brain—I get it. He’s a wildly smart guy. The interest in long and winding pillow talk; the desire to be in close contact and proximity to someone who fires synapses you rarely use. I get it. I know you miss that fuel.

But… everybody else says we don’t want to do this.

So, still, this hasn’t been the clearest exercise in coming to a conclusion.

Finally, I ask the big question: Which action supports my highest good? 

And thus, it is clear to me, in this situation, to not sleep with him. If we can forge a friendship, great, and if not, I tried.

Because as I reported, I had some pretty great casual sex recently (well, a few months ago now)—with casual sex as my intention and feeling very good and happy with my behavior and outcome. And, don't get me wrong, when I can get it on the regular, please, I’m down. But otherwise, I’m okay without it. Sometimes I miss it, the connection of two bodies. But I also had some disappointing casual sex recently, and, well, not all sex is great.

I have previews that this sex could be great. I really think it would be. And I know the vixen inside me is just mewling to get some sexy-time on. To wield the tools and tricks we’ve learned, to sharpen them against someone who is well-matched, to exude Level 10 sexuality that I keep to a 4 (max) in regular life outside the bedroom.

I know it would be fun. But I know it doesn’t support my highest good, and my highest goals for myself. It doesn’t undermine them, per se, but it simply continues a pattern of behavior that isn’t the most fulfilling—and I think what I’m saying is that I’d like to be fulfilled. And therefore “filled” by someone where there is a mutual understanding of continued partnership and exploration.

I also know that I have often and many times been involved with folks and situations that my “dining table” wasn’t fully behind—and I’ve felt that … loss? emptiness? disconnect. I know this road.

I am a wrestler. I grapple and wrestle and tease and shimmy my way into and out of every eventuality. And though I have run the gamut of “pros/cons,” my ultimate guide can only be my highest good. Even when it means I miss a savory, delectable, oh-so-mouth-watering meal.