Hmm, Jonas Singer is a long story.
But let me try to make it short: We'd dated for about three months back in the fall, after he picked me up in the bike lane. (Believe me, that kind of thing rarely happens in my life. Or, if it does, the stranger who starts talking to me is not some hot 28-year-old boy who is 6'4" with gorgeous dark skin and luminous black eyes. Rather, he's some toothless geriatric who's feeding crumbs to the birds, or an odoriferous wack-job who wants to share his conspiracy theories about how the U.S. government helped to carry out the 9/11 attacks.) Jonas and I had a great conversation ... which turned into a great night together. Which involved a lot of making out. And a sleepover. We didn't go "all the way" that night, but I didn't hold out for very long, despite my best intentions.
We had great chemistry, both physically and interpersonally. We'd ride our bikes together, whisper to each other during movies, and abandon DVDs about 15 minutes into any flick because we'd already started making out. There was something about hanging around with Jonas that made me feel like I was in high school ... in good and bad ways. Although he was very emotionally perceptive, I'm not sure we were such a great match intellectually. Though he's quite smart, and I often learn new factoids from him, he doesn't help me understand the world in new ways, or to think new thoughts; I've been with other guys who do, and I like that kind of dynamic.
Of course, how well matched Jonas and I were for the long-term was kind of a moot point, considering he'd told me early on that he'd just broken off a yearlong relationship and wasn't looking for anything serious. I told myself I wasn't either — just some sexy-time with this dude who loved to whisk me off the couch and carry me, screaming and giggling, into my room.
At the same time, though, I wanted to be in a serious relationship with someone. And the more time I spent with Jonas, the more I thought: "Well, even if we're not going to end up together forever, he should probably be my boyfriend now." I think he began to feel some unspoken pressure — or maybe he felt himself become more emotionally attached to me than he wanted to be. Whatever the case, one day we found ourselves having a conversation in which he said, "I told you right at the beginning I wasn't looking for anything intense." And I said, pouting, "Yeah, you said that. I didn't."
So, of course, he broke it off.
That was sometime in late fall, and we weren't in much touch for maybe five or six months after that. But then he started texting me again ... and now we see each other occasionally. Very occasionally. Although usually when we do, we get it on. Like we did on Thursday night.
This, I swear to you, is not the kind of thing I have ever done before in my life. I've never, ever before had sex that could be in any way described as "casual," and I've never had sex with an ex, and I've never had sex with someone knowing full well (as I do with him) that it's not going anywhere.
Does this mean I'm maturing? Or regressing?
Thursday night, after we finished, we lay head to foot for a while, each of us exhausted and stroking the other's foot, before I took off; I'm the world's lightest sleeper and I wanted a good night's sleep. And the next morning I kept thinking proudly to myself, "See that? You really can have 'casual sex'! You don't care if you don't see Jonas again for months. Years, even!"
But here it is, only Tuesday, and I've been wondering since approximately, oh, Friday night when I'll hear from Jonas again, when I'll hang with him again....
Now, although I know there are some of you who are going to say "She doth protest too much," I really don't want to be in a serious relationship with him ... and yet I don't feel ready to excise him from my life completely, either. I care about him, and I like it when I can make him happy by rubbing his back. There are plenty of ways that he makes me feel good, too; he knows how insecure I am about my looks, for instance, so that's the one thing he'll never tease me about; he frequently tells me (probably only to be nice) how hot I am.
And whatever thing there is between us, we haven't worked it out of our systems just yet. Or at least I haven't. He asked me the other day if I thought we could ever become platonic buddies, and I said, "That depends. Do you think you could manage to not touch me if we were in the same room together? Because maybe if you didn't, I could control myself." And he was like, "Ah, good point. Forget it."
None of this, however, changes the fact that I'd like for him to love me. Or the fact that I sometimes think about why he doesn't want to be more serious with me. Part of the problem, I know, is that he feels like I'm always trying to change him — I hint that some of his extracurricular artistic pursuits are a little misguided, tell him to get a haircut, mention that he looks cuter in sweaters than collar shirts — whereas one of the things he liked best about his favorite ex-girlfriend was that she loved him, flaws and all. (But I do feel like he could use a little guidance ... is it so wrong to gently nudge him?)
Anyway. For better — and worse — you might be hearing about Jonas Singer again before long.
Do you have any thoughts about "casual" sex? Can men have it, but not chicks? Can even men have it? Can anyone, regardless of gender, have it for very long? Is it ever worth it? Any "tips" on the mindset you need to be capable of it?
xxx!
