Losing My Cool

Losing My Cool

The small window of time between when I meet a man I like and the first time we have sex is golden. It’s a time when I still feel in control. I’m not emotionally invested and my behavior shows it. What I mean is my guard is down and I almost don’t care at all what he thinks of me. It’s glorious. I feel free. Something about skin-to-skin synchronized humping changes everything.

My hormones go crazy after I initially hook up with someone (if it’s quality sex, of course). My internal chemistry goes berserk. At first it’s just the warm, excited, glowing feeling of having a new partner. Then it becomes something else. It stems from overthinking and desire. I over-analyze the situation and naturally I want more sex. I wonder: Will we have sex again? When will we have sex again? Did he like it as much as I did? How many other women is he sleeping with? My head swells with thoughts. Too many thoughts. They distract me from my everyday life. I hate it. By the time we link up again I’ve had too much alone time with my feelings.

A few months ago I had incredible sex with a guy after hanging out with him for a second time. Afterward I held my head in my hands, still in his bed, and said out loud, “Ugh, I didn’t want to do that.” I was verbally beating myself up because I knew in that moment that going forward I would be sprung and any “power” I had over him was now his to yield over me. Fuck. “Can we just enjoy this moment?” he asked me as I agonized. “Yeah,” I said, and relaxed into his naked body. I shut up but I kept thinking to myself about how everything was different because we’d had sex.

From then on I thought about him more than I wanted to. I replayed our hook-up, the things he said to me, the music he played, the way he made me feel. Where was the care-free attitude I had just days before? We hooked up again soon after that and it was great, but then seeing him became inconsistent. At one point we didn’t see each other for a month. When we finally reunited I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was overridden with anxiety.

I entered a dark bar and scanned the place until I found him sitting on a stool against a wall in the back. The fact that I was seeing him in the flesh, and not relying on my memory the way I had for several weeks was overwhelming. I made my way toward him. We hugged. I don’t remember what I said but I think my words were coming out a mile a minute. “Do you get nervous around me?” he asked. “I feel like sometimes you get nervous around me.” I was particularly frustrated with the situation because when we first met he apologized for acting weird. He said he was intimidated by me. The tables were turned.

I tried not to make it about him so I said, “I’m generally a pretty anxious person.” In the most charming gesture he gently wrapped his huge hand around the nape of my neck and massaged it, relieving almost all the tension in me. Later he took me home and sexed all the remaining jitters out of me. But why couldn’t I get to that place of calm before we hooked up?

One might think a practical solution is to wait longer before having sex with someone for the first time. Well that’s easier said than done. I’m innately sexual. The body wants what it wants. In the moments when I’m making out with a guy and intercourse is on the table, it seems silly to stop myself from doing what feels good just because things might not work out. People are always saying “live in the moment,” “be present,” “don’t overthink.” Well if I live by those sentiments I will surely have sex every time I feel inclined.

This is a mental game. I need to stop putting men on a pedestal just because they give me quality dick. It’s been a couple months since I’ve hooked up with anyone. As much as I want to reach out to certain men, I’m choosing to chill instead. I’m regaining my cool.

image by @hiddenheartbreak

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