LOVEinSANFRANCISCO

[Disclaimer: I am in no way advocating ex-sex. In fact I consider it highly detrimental, and a huge step backward.]

Ex-sex. It’s hard to properly enunciate if you say it fast. It’s also hard to predict what will happen after an encounter of that nature. You know what people say. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. It’s nothing but trouble. For some reason, after a couple of glasses of wine, and some reminiscing about the past, it feels as though there is no other alternative. Particularly when your ex is sitting on your lap, with her legs wrapped around you, practically pleading with you for one (or several) last times.

This is what happened this past weekend, when I drove down to south to visit my friends, and told my ex that I would drop by on the way back up to the city. As it turns out, dropping by turned into more of a night over, especially since I was tired after a long day of being in the car. And sleeping with her arms around me just seemed so appealing, especially considering the alternative – a longer drive home, in the dark, only to fall asleep, exhausted, all by my lonesome. Shame, shame, shame…I know. I am only human.

The feeling of her lips on mine again was intoxicating – perhaps even better than it was when we were together. I knew it was because of the forbidden aspect, but that didn’t prevent it from being an irresistible experience. The more she kissed me, the more I resisted, but after her arms wrapped around me along with her legs, and after I caught the scent of her delicious perfume, resistance was futile. My morals and restraint were all shot to hell. Besides, I thought, I loved her, and part of me loved her still. The soft jazz playing in the background made it near-impossible to avoid the ominous, vilified phrase: Sex with the Ex.

“What will happen if we do this?” I asked, terrified of what it could all mean.

“Nothing…I promise I won’t want a relationship out of this.”

My fears were somewhat abated. I let my defenses fall. I let it happen. It was incredible. Why is sex with the ex always so exhilarating, so passion-filled and so amazing? I’m sure we all know the answer. It’s wrong. And you think it will never happen again. All the more incentive to make it unforgettable. I felt the warmth of her body against mine, I smelled the sweet scent of her pretty hair, and I lost myself in what felt like the passion that only comes from your first love. I was deluded, no doubt, but the rush was undeniable.

We spent the remainder of the night cuddling just the way we used to – her arms around me tight, holding me from behind. I felt so safe. I sighed and leaned into her warmth. I woke in the morning to kisses. I could get used to this, I thought. But I still knew that this was something that would never last. Why the body and emotions will sometimes never align with the mind is something I will never be able to understand fully. I spent the remainder of the drive up north listening to emotional love songs, thinking of her. My emotions ran amok, while my mind calmly told me that I should simmer down, since I knew we were incompatible.

“Sex with an ex can be depressing,” Samantha Jones, of Sex and the City muses, “if it’s good, you don’t have it anymore. If it’s bad, you just had sex with an ex.”

How true she was. And now, I am discovering the consequences of sex with the ex. My entire drive was spent glancing at cute texts filled with sweet nothings from the ex. Now she is a larger part of my life than she really should be. Now I feel more for her than I really should feel. Now my life is that much less open to the woman of my dreams, should she walk into my life.

Emotions are complex. Ideas about always following your heart are fueled by idealistic romantic comedies, books and poetry that wish that the world were perfect. In a perfect world, we could all follow our hearts and live happily ever after. In the real world, it seems that a combination of logic and emotion must mix to create the perfect elixir for finding lasting love.

“Why won’t you just follow your heart for ONCE?!” My ex once exclaimed.

“I do,” I answered. But look what happens when you follow JUST your heart and completely ignore your head.

Not all love works out in the end. Even if it were the most pure, real, and strongest of loves. As John Mayer’s song Split Screen Sadness goes, “All you need is love is a lie, cause we had a love but we still said goodbye, now we’re tired, battered fighters.”

Love may not always last forever, and it does not always end in wedded bliss. There are a myriad of reasons why a love affair can end. But what I think we can be thankful for, in the very end, is the fact that love happened.

She accurately portrays how silly I feel.

After every phone call, you hang up, subconsciously develop a huge goofy grin on your face, and commence with giggling like you’ve just lost 95% of your brain cells.

Then you finally notice what you’re doing, snap out of it, and yell, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Stop swooning, dammit!!” and chuck your phone onto the couch like your hand is on fire.

It’s not long before the retarded looking smile creeps up on your face again.

Everyone has a girlfriend voice. It’s the voice you use when you’re talking to your significant other, and you want to sound beautiful, sultry and sweet. It’s the voice you use when you’re talking to your lover before the two of you drift off into a lovely sleep. I don’t know about you, but when I’m talking and joking with my best friend, I sound like an guffawing 26 year old man. Yes, I even switch genders. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but the undeniable truth is that I would never use the voice I use with my best friend to speak with a significant other.

In all the times that I have heard people using their girlfriend voices, I have noticed three major defining characteristics:

1. The pitch rises a couple of octaves.

2. The volume gets turned down quite a few notches.

3. The voice used bears a striking similarity to the voice one would use to speak with a small cat.

If the phone call is made from a bed, two additional defining characteristics emerge:

1. Vowels are drawn out for longer periods of time, speech is slower.

2. Seductive, sultry breathy quality skyrockets.

At this point, the man or woman on the receiving end is rendered helpless. Take me, baby.

I don’t know what it is about the girlfriend voice. Maybe the softness in the voice creates a sense of intimacy. It feels special to be talked to in a soft, sweet and soothing voice, especially when the woman in question speaks to everyone else like she’s a frat boy at a football game. The girlfriend voice says, “You’re special to me.” “You make me feel soft inside.” And that’s enough to send the butterflies inside me into a delightful frenzy – fluttering in a dance that rushes in waves from my head to my toes.

I broke up with my ex-girlfriend about a month ago. Since then, she has not stopped contacting me. Little texts throughout the week, asking about how I’m doing, or informing of the random things she’s been doing flood my phone sporadically.

I knew she wasn’t the one for me about a few months before I broke up with her. Something just wasn’t cutting it. We couldn’t really connect on an intellectual level, and our lives seemed to be on completely different pages. Not just different pages – sometimes, it seemed like we were in different books. I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew I had to put an end to the relationship before it got too far…before we were in too deep, so deep, that there was no way out.

Since the break-up, I’ve been lonely. I’ve been lonely, but I know that I’ve done the right thing. I am completely available and open to the woman of my dreams, should she come along some day. Then there are those moments of weakness. Those moments where a sweet text from a past love will show up in your phone, and where you’ll feel like you want the familiar comfort of a loving friend. It’s hard to stay lonely to keep yourself open to new love when your past love keeps knocking at the door, telling you that she’ll comfort you – no questions asked, with arms wide open.

I’m going to stay strong. I’m going to wait for what I’ve always wanted. I’m not going to settle.

“Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.” – Carrie, Sex and the City.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I went shopping downtown to search for our new signature scents. After all, we had been using our older scents for a while, and while they did smell good, we wanted something new. Using the same scent is comfortable and safe, but after a while, you don’t notice the smell anymore. It’s a new season – time to throw on some new eau du parfum!

As we browsed through Sephora, we went through a myriad of different scents. Florals, orientals, musky scents, bright scents, fruity scents…the options were endless. Each scent had its pluses, but also its minuses. Some scents came on too strong, while some scents faded quickly. Some scents were simple and pleasant, while others smelled simple at first, but as time passed, faded into complex and beautiful aromas you never knew existed after the initial spray. It became apparent that choosing a great scent that complemented our personalities and selves was going to be a trying process.

Finding the perfect scent that brings out the best in you and fits your personality and style is a lot like finding the perfect partner. There are so many scents to choose from, and sometimes you get so lost in the search that you actually numb out your sense of smell and can’t tell the difference between perfumes. There is a risk that comes with trying too many scents (numb nose, anyone?), and there is also a risk with trying only one and settling because “it smells okay enough.”

We spent nearly two hours scouring the shelves for the perfect scents to complement our personalities. After all, quality perfumes are often expensive. If you wanted to find the best scent for you, you had to go through many bad scents to finally find that special one. You had to be careful, because if you made your decision hastily and purchased the first perfume you thought smelled decent, you would probably go home and find out that you made the wrong decision. And for that decision, you would have paid dearly. Choosing your scent, like choosing your partner, was to be done carefully.

Marc Jacobs Daisy. Burberry London. Burberry Brit. Armani Code. Dior Poison (that one was a mistake!). So many scents. So many seemed to fit. I liked Burberry Brit and Armani Code. I also liked Kenzo. What was I to do? I liked them all for different reasons, and all of them seemed like they would have been good choices – ones that I would not have regretted. Was I supposed to be actively searching so hard for a perfume, I wondered? Or should I have just waited to run into a page in a magazine that happened to smell nice? Do you have to search for your soul-mate by sorting through masses of people? Or do you wait until you run into the man or woman of your dreams spontaneously? I wondered if my search for a perfume, like my search for my soul-mate, was supposed to be the product of many painful dates with many different scents.

I knew what I wanted. I wanted a perfume that smelled great initially, but then also surprised you by fading into the most complex, beautiful aromas with tantalizing and exhilarating notes that you never would have expected. I wanted a scent that would not remind me of any other scent – one that was truly one of a kind.

After several more aggravated spritzes of random perfumes, my friend and I left the store, feeling a little upset with our fruitless search. We left the store, discussing all the time we had wasted. “I’ll never find my signature perfume.” “It’s too difficult.” “Maybe we should just stop looking and we’ll just come across one that we like someday.” Someday. As we drove home, I kept catching whiffs of the Armani Code I had spritzed on the neck of my shirt.

Mmmm. I sighed. It smelled delicious. I went about the house, putting down my bags and began to wash the dishes. The magical, seductive scent of vanilla and hints of sandalwood teased my senses. I ignored it. I walked over to my computer and began to check my emails. A musky, beautiful, lightly spiced scent begged for my attention. I breathed it in and sighed. I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt like I could still smell Armani all over me. It wasn’t there, but I couldn’t stop thinking about its delicious, mysterious, subtle aroma. It made me feel comfortable, and it felt like home. Then it hit me. The perfect perfume for you is the one that you try, that you perhaps walk away from, but that you still cannot manage to get out of your head. The perfect perfume is the perfume that lingers and stays on your mind, even when it’s not there. It’s the scent that captures your heart for the rest of your life.

I had to purchase it. I went back the next day, grabbed the bottle, and have never looked back. I’ve been in love ever since.

Here I sit, in my room, listening to the lovely sounds of Norah Jones. Her music is calming, and incredibly romantic. The music coming from my ipod streams into my room, instilling a sense of calm, comfort, and peace in my heart. It’s amazing how music can alter your consciousness and your mood.

Tell me how you’ve been, tell what you’ve seen, tell me that you’d like to see me too…
‘Cause my heart is full of no blood, my cup is full of no love, couldn’t take another sip even if I wanted. But it’s not too late, not too late for love…

Norah’s voice sultrily streams out of my speakers, soothing me, telling me that I can find a love that’s as beautiful as the one I’ve always dreamed about. Something about her music tells me that everything is going to be alright. The calm of the melody tells me that there is somebody out there who wants a love like the one I want. There is someone out there, listening to the same soothing song, dreaming about a love that is yet to come.

I know that I will find love someday. I know that I am worthy of love. I just need to find the woman of my dreams, and I need to be the woman of her dreams, too. Part of me muses at the idea that sitting in my warmly lit room at midnight, listening to soothing jazz, and dreaming about a love to come won’t get me any closer to my dreams. But the larger part of me loves dreaming. The larger part of me, the hopeless romantic, is swooning and swaying to the melody of my perfect love.

Part of finding the love of your life is being found by the love of your life. Sometimes it almost feels like the stars have to align for something that amazing and powerful to happen. Maybe she’s sitting in her bed right now too, wondering if she’ll ever find the woman for her. Maybe she’s holding onto her pillow at night, dreaming of the day when that pillow will be replaced with the woman of her dreams. And sometimes, perhaps she cries at night, wondering if she’ll ever find love. I hope I find her. I hope she keeps holding on to those romantic dreams. I hope I keep holding onto my romantic dreams. And I hope one day, maybe, that the cosmos will shift, that the stars will circle, and that two bright, lonely stars in the sky will find their place next to one another.

And then we will sleep, never lonely, forever ours.

I don’t know what to say when people inquire about my love life. Example: Today at work, my coworker Samantha starts talking to me about boys, and then asks me if I’m in a relationship. I say yes, and then she starts asking about my “boyfriend.” I don’t know how to tell her that I actually have a girlfriend, so I humor her and say that our relationship is really great, blah blah blah. She then goes on to tell me about the type of guy she usually goes for, and then asks me about my type. I go on to tell her that I like guys with swimmers’ builds, pretty eyes, brown hair, and money. The whole time, I feel like I’m fronting; I feel like I really should have said, “Well, I have a girlfriend.” This sort of thing has happened 3 times today, and that’s why it’s on my mind. While working at the coffeeshop today, I saw my co-worker Laura talking to a guy whom she seemed to be really friendly with.
“Is that your boyfriend,” I ask.
“Yeah,” she smiles. “I don’t mean to be a stalker or anything, but I saw on Facebook that you’re in a relationship now.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“So you have a boyfriend? That’s cool.”
“…Yeah.”

1. Always treat a girl right, respect her as a person, and don’t be mean, because one day it could be over and you want to be remembered well. RESPECT, RESPECT, RESPECT.
2. Always call just to say hello when you feel the urge. Don’t hold back on doing sweet things. One day you might regret not having done that enough while you still had it.
3. Don’t ever completely burn any bridges.
4. Always treat a girl like royalty; never hurt her feelings or make her feel like less than you on purpose. It’s not worth it.
5. If you want to say something but you aren’t sure about it, wait an hour or a day and see if you still want to say it. If you do, say it.
6. It’s all about the little things. Build beautiful memories.
7. You can’t change the past, so don’t try and change it. Be thankful for every break in your heart and learn something from it for the future.
8. ALWAYS be cordial. Don’t disrespect yourself and others by being a jerk.
9. Don’t make fun of her unless it’s just something silly.
10. Try not to look back, or you won’t be able to move forward. Let go and live your life.
11. The love you withhold will be the pain you feel.
12. When you find something good, take what you have and run with it, cause it might be the best thing you’ve ever had.

I had a dream that a group of people and I were evacuating some building because there was some sort of shooting going on. And then all of a sudden, someone pointed at someone in an accusatory manner and said, “Lesbian,” in a demeaning tone. And the girl who was pointed at just raised her head, smiled, and brushed it off in a good-natured way by saying, “Yep, that’s me!” And then I jumped into her arms, and she held me super close, smiling, and it was the best feeling in the world.