I think we can all agree sex is great.
It’s an intoxicating and intense expression of a human’s innate ability to connect.
After all, life’s core is at the base of communication.
But, the things happening beneath the sheets may just be a tad more multidimensional than we initially perceived.
What if it's the thing not getting us hot and bothered that is even more important?
While we’ve already determined that (good) sex is f*cking awesome, it’s tempting to think that — given our love-is-love-preaching, free-spirited generation of sexual liberation — sex no longer acts as a reliable indicator of our genuine fondness for a particular individual.
For instance, we can have pretty incredible sex with someone we hate, a stranger or a person we find ourselves totally on the fence about.
Now, some may argue that if you’re not certain about someone, you shouldn't have sex with him or her.
These people are what we call "wise."
But as a 24-year-old masochist who is as equally addicted to f*ckboys as she is to cabernet sauvignon, I can’t always trust my own judgment.
Coincidentally, I very recently had the misfortune of finally watching "Fifty Shades Of Grey."
Considering the fact I’m about a year late, I’ll keep the majority of my opinions to myself.
But let me just say, I desire reimbursement for my time.
Regardless of this sad, sad truth, somewhere between wanting to stab myself in the eye with a fork and falling asleep during a sex scene, I realized that, surprisingly, I could relate to the story’s protagonist.
I picked up on a painfully familiar feeling: the emotional anguish of wanting to simply sleep with someone.
Anastasia knew she had found something real when she craved his presence more than his body.
Sex became secondary.
I believe this powerful concept has the potential to tell us more than the intimate act of sex itself.
Many times, sex is a delicately woven web of lies, and we’re all vulnerable.
Not too long ago, I joined an online dating app.
Despite my preconceived notions and critical tendencies, being in a new neighborhood inspired a surge of open-mindedness and momentary optimism.
In maintaining consistency with my somewhat arbitrary problem, I found myself mostly attracted to seemingly ego-driven, arrogant narcissists who probably wouldn’t message me back anyway.
So, instead of fueling my own self-destructive fire, I ended up reaching out to guys who I thought might be a more suitable match for me in the long term.
While my method was minimal in scale, it did lead me to a very nice gentleman whom I actually gave a chance.
But, I needed some solid evidence for the contrary.
I kept an open mind and made a sincere attempt to keep my interest aroused.
Yet, as expected, I couldn't shake the idea I was halted at a crossroads.
Still, drinks eventually turned into dinner, which turned into regular texting.
This evolved into me stumbling home from a happy hour and calling upon my slightly nerdy, well-to-do OkCupid contender to help make up my damn mind for me.
Needless to say, the sex was great.
I was thoroughly impressed with his skill and his willingness to please.
But for one reason or another, when the deed died down, it occurred to me that the longing had burned out as well.
I didn't miss his touch, and I didn't pine for the subtlety of his heartbeat next to mine.
I craved my solitude.
I needed the space to deconstruct my actions and overly complicated mental processes.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be alone.
Suddenly, I understood how simple the answer was to find.
Ironically enough, it has absolutely nothing to do with sex.
On the fence? Observe how it feels to simply sleep with someone.
In time, we'll make the connection.
It's not the body. It's the soul.