Day 23 of 66 Days of No Sex

(Previous week here)

Mood: Overwhelmed

This past week is the perfect example of when I would use sex to unwind. #literallyfucked #politicallyfucked

I feel like I was so engulfed in political and professional stuff that I didn’t have much time to think about my love life. I did cry over a boy, but I’m not sure former presidents count.

I love getting worked up about current events—though I’m no political pundit, I really appreciate when someone is in tune with the world around them. I admire when a person cares about an issue that doesn’t affect them personally and invests in a cause to support someone else’s wellbeing.

Last year, I was talking to this guy about the upcoming election and asked, “Are you big into politics?”

He said, “I don’t like politics, but I like policies.” I swear I’ve never had to suppress such a raging lady boner. Hands down the best (unintentional) pickup line of 2016.

On Saturday, I attended Boston’s Women’s March and the solidarity among strangers was incredibly uplifting. I felt safe and empowered and thankful. Afterward, my group of friends headed to a nearby restaurant to share stories and laughter over fried chicken sandwiches and hot cider.

In many ways, I live a life devoid of loneliness.

From grade school through college, and now in the real world, I feel there are always people looking out for me. I’m grateful to be insulated by a strong social network and community of friends. It’s enabled me to feel supported in my personal pursuits, and secure during times of emotional distress.

But in my privileged and popular social life, I feel pangs of hunger—an ache of sadness that even the most thriving and loving community cannot cure the desire for companionship. 

It’s always the small and superficial things that get me. Over brunch, one of the girls talked about travel plans with her boyfriend. On the subway home, my two engaged friends pondered afternoon plans of movies at their apartment.

I walked home by myself from the station and picked up a chocolate bar on the way. The sweetness makes me happy. It’s funny how I can literally be surrounded by 175,00 people and still feel alone. Or how I can be sitting across the table from someone I don’t connect with and find more belonging in solitude.

As much as I want a life companion, my expectations of compatibility with another person feel impossibly high. If I break up my qualifications among multiple people then I can find the right DNA, but it’s never all in one person.

Why isn’t it enough for me to have good conversation with one person, and be physically attracted to someone else? Why have I bought into the idea that complete satisfaction must come from a singular source?

I think it has to be a convenience factor—you find one person who is good enough, and sacrifice on the things that don’t matter. But I think it all matters, and that’s probably why I’m still single: I’m selfish.

I am unwilling to commit to someone who I don’t think is good enough, yet in my noncommittal arrangements I still want to pick and choose the aspects of a committed relationship that benefit me (namely cuddles).

That’s not how relationships work, and I know that. So that leaves me caught in a limbo of high expectations vs. settled satisfaction. I don’t want to be alone forever, but I also don’t think I will be truly satisfied by someone who doesn’t meet my standards.

My friends tell me I’m picky, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone to be:

• Smart
• Funny
• Attractive
• Kind
• Disciplined
• Athletic
• Ambitious
• Socially Aware
• Rational
• Hardworking
• Thoughtful

Because at some level, I think I am all those things (add Vain to my list). And I have tons of friends, both single and taken, who are all those things. So why is it so hard to find that one person?

I miss physical contact. I find human touch really comforting, so even having someone hold me or rub my back in a nonsexual way would have been nice this weekend. I texted a friend/old friend with benefits to catch up sometime. I wasn’t seeking sex, but I did think about how we used to nap together after eating. I’d tell him I was too bloated to move around and he’d say that’s okay we can sleep. And we would.

After the Steelers lost, I consoled one of my guy friend saying, “I’ll cheer you up.”

And I definitely meant it in a bad way, so I had to follow up with “…is what old Connie would say.” *insert a million angel emojis*

I changed my work desktop background to Antonio Brown because I’ve been sexually frustrated. Since I’m not hooking up, I think it’s restored some gratification in just looking at someone, and not doing anything. Like how a kiss used to feel really special before you experienced all the other bases.

If Antonio Brown played baseball instead, I’d allow him to score a home run. That’s just the frustration talking. Unless Antonio Brown is reading this right now, in which case: Please contact me March 8, 2017, and not a day sooner.

Next week here!