Slap Me...with those Rules

When did vacation sex come home? What was once a quickie with a hottie and lack of a date or commitment or STD test has now become a regular dating life. They all wanna “be spontaneous,” have “no rules,” and be able to shut it off when a “line is crossed.” Men fear the “rules” of women, but why don’t we as women fear the hidden and socially accepted “rules” of men?

My friend travels, so he has several quickies across the country. When one of his regulars asked “so, what are we?” he said, simply, “over.” She had broken his number one rule: don’t tie me down, bitch! She had proposed a clarification, or a rule. Which he don’t play by. But he never realized HE was the one imposing the rules; and when she wanted to see the rule book, he snapped it shut. His rule was this: I want my relationships – or lack thereof – to be of my choosing, I want to come (and cum) and go as I please, I want to fuck whomever I wanna fuck, I don’t care what you want, and if you don’t agree – we terminate. He made HER abide by HIS rules. Yes, rules.

And we, as women, kowtow. We agree out of fear, for we don’t wanna break their rules. We’re afraid to have something real for ourselves, because we’d rather have a little bit of something than nothing.

I have a birthday looming on the horizon. Every morning, the birthday shines brighter, blinding my sight and my reason. I fear age, I fear illness, I fear being alone. And every morning and every night my birthday rises and sets and creeps quickly towards me.

And the thought of settling comes a knocking.

Hot Pot Head emailed me literally the day after I erased his email from my address book. A few months had passed, and he was out of my head, so I took him out of my contacts. And up popped the weasel. I had moved on by the time I read his probing email, so I thought, well, why not? A week passed and I wrote back, still not sure what I wanted from him if anything. A quick response from him let me know…well, I don’t know what it let me know. I didn’t write back, so days later a text from him confirmed his dogged interest.

I can do this, I thought. I can separate my heart from my body – for it had been some time since I let my body be touched, and an orgasm is always better than Tylenol PM. So I went to see him. And I couldn’t cum. Two weeks later he asked for more, and still I couldn’t cum. And now here I am, with a birthday looming, living by his rules, panicked, unfulfilled and wanting to cum.

I can’t do it. I can’t settle. I can’t live by someone else’s rules. My heart is part of my body and that’s the gift I’m given as a woman. Rules aren’t made to be broken, they’re made to protect us and guide us. My rule is this: I love with my heart and mind and soul first, and only then second with my body. My rule, not his rule. And if he don’t like it, it’s time to close the book.

A lesson hard learned: a little bit of something is nothing. A “little bit” clouds our judgment and makes us settle for really, nothing; but embracing “nothing” keeps us open for the real something.

And my message to vacation sex: stay on vacation!