Day 67: Love as Science

Here's the uber-casual version of the black skinny jean outfit. Haphazardly roll up the bottoms of the jeans to expose the entire sandal. Again, I would wear flat sandals or ballet flats instead, but that's for convenience only. I love the look of a high, sexy sandal with a laid-back outfit. I also love the versatility of the black/white combo. You could put on almost any scarf, combination of jewelry, and bag and look fabulously put together. We'll call this "Simply Skinny."

Well, Hank informs me that my last posting didn't portray him very well. It's probably true, and I feel badly for that. Since I don't really read my posts after I post them (sometimes only much later to edit, even though I should be doing that at the time of writing) and since I don't really have time to go backwards in this process (T minus 25 days), I must take his word for it and continue the trek forward. Hopefully any readers will realize by now that Hank and I have a real relationship, and that's all I'm hopefully proving with my posts. I try to portray things the way they are or feel on any given day--sometimes that's grand, sometimes it's dull, and sometimes it's really bad. That's the way it goes. But (and this is for you, dear) it's always from my heart. And remember, you're wonderful. I am simply trying to speculate about certain aspects of life and love. I can't worry about how people are going to judge my thoughts or relationship. I just have to write.

Season six starts out with two great episodes. Charlotte decides to convert to Judaism in order to be with Harry. They share a moving conversation, where Charlotte tells Harry about her reproductive challenges, and Harry tells her not to worry and that adoption is always an option. Samantha meets a hot waiter at a hip new restaurant and decides to seduce him. After sleeping together, he tells her she needn't have tried so hard; he was into her from the start. Carrie heats things up with Burger but finds that all their chemistry screeches to a halt in the bedroom. Finally, after some honest talking and wearing of furry footwear, things start to look promising again. Miranda tells Carrie she's in love with Steve. Before Miranda can tell him, he tells her that he's seeing someone else. So, she clams up and decides to ignore her feelings.

So many things, as per usual. But the idea of being sexually in sync out of the bedroom but not in it is very intriguing to me. I haven't really experienced that exactly, but the situation with Brad was somewhat similar. Though we were very flirty on dates, and the kissing was great, things got weird in the bedroom.

The first time we slept together, he didn't want to. He gave me the whole "I've slept with so many girls that I want this time to be special" schpeel, as if that was something I wanted to hear in the heat of the moment. (News flash, men: we generally want sex as much as you do. We also don't want to hear about how many women your dick has been in, possibly ever, whether we're different or not. Would you want us to say that line to you?) Let me say that even though the chemistry was there, the sex wasn't good. He was one of those guys that Carrie talks about in an earlier episode--the kind that's not good in bed, because he never had to be due to his nice looks, charm, or a thriving bank account. He didn't really know what to do and had no patience to learn.

But the sex wasn't as bad as the aftermath. I couldn't sleep. Literally. I don't generally nod off quickly, but it always happens in 20 minutes or so. Not this time. I laid next to him for what felt like forever but was actually only a few hours in his strange bedroom, feeling like I was being eaten alive by Pottery Barn decorations. I hoped he thought I was peacefully dreaming. He seemed to be. But after accidentally clearing my throat about two hours after the act, he said, "Oh, you can't sleep either?" Awkward. "Uh, no," was all I could think of. So, we kept trying to fall asleep, knowing full well that the other person was also awake.

The next morning, I felt and looked awful. He didn't look great, either. And we couldn't really look each other in the eye. We both knew something very strange had happened the night before, and it didn't seem there was any use in talking about it. It wasn't like it was something we could change. As I found out that night, trying to force yourself to sleep is a pretty useless task.

The next couple of times we spent the night together were no different. I kept thinking it was going to change--when we were more comfortable with each other and our relationship, when we learned more about each others' bodies, when we trusted one another more. Over the next few weeks, we talked a lot on the phone from our respective towns. We went to movies, cooked dinner, went hiking, and planned future trips. In these moments, we seemed comfortable, but our chemistry was never the same after that first night. Also, the sleeping situation didn't change, at least not for me. I only slept soundly with him on one occasion, which ended up being our last time together. Maybe my subconscious knew that finally the gig (whatever it had been) was up. I could finally relax.

Chemistry is so weird. You can't predict it. You can't change it or will it or hope it. Stopping it is hard. Starting it when it's not there is harder. It is like God's little chemical secret. Sure, there are theories--everything from pheromones and upbringing to astrology--but none sufficiently explains the mystery of why we hit it off naturally with some people and why we don't with others. Brad smelled very good and was a compatible Capricorn, but something major was off. An essential love ingredient was missing, the equivalent of yeast to bread. Maybe I'll never know what it was, but I know it wasn't there. And I don't really want to know. I still like to think there's a little magic in it all.

I hope you'll be back. I will.