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The Love Project

Learning how to love myself. One huge mistake at a time.

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Sex

The Pitfall of Being in Love

The pursuit of love is really, truly the point of why we’re here. I’m not saying it should be the point, but I believe it is. The kind of love I’m talking about is romantic love. Sexy love. The kind of love that makes you look in the mirror and think “Holy shit, I DO matter.” It’s not the love from your children that does that. It’s not the love from your parents, your best friends, your dog. (The love from your dog probably comes the closest, but it’s still a distant second.) The love we’re all subtly or openly searching for is that kind that makes us warm in our crotches, makes our heart skip a beat, makes us see the profound beauty in ourselves, that for some flipping reason, we can’t see any other way.

I am in love. Deeply, madly, mind-erasingly in love. It happened quite by accident, in a way that would make you roll your eyes and throw up in your mouth a little if I told you. I would probably use the phrase “love at first sight.” And it would be entirely true. I don’t know where he came from or how we found each other, but he’s that person who…wait for it…completes me. I know: ACK! Take a deep breath and let’s keep going.

A few months in, I was aware of being happy in way I hadn’t been in a long time, if ever. Not happy giddy, but happy peaceful. Happy in my cells. Content and more in touch with myself. Then at some point, a little demon came out and tapped me on the shoulder. She whispered things in my ear that made me feel crazy. She said it wouldn’t last. I became jealous for no reason, insecure over absolutely nothing. Even as I was overwhelmed with these feelings, a part of me knew there was no substance to it. When I dug a little deeper, I realized the driving thoughts were all around the fear of losing this special love. This love that crawled in and curled up in my empty spaces. This love that picked up my broken pieces and lovingly put them back in place. And here, right in the middle of fully having this special love, I felt like it was already gone.

It is well-documented that romantic love floods your brain with dopamine. The feeling of being in love is literally addicting. The same way cocaine and caffeine and sugar are addicting. And how do we feel when someone takes away our coffee and our biscotti? God, I love biscotti, by the way. It’s just the right amount of crunch and sweetness. We know that drugs and sugar are bad for us (mmm, I love biscotti), but … how do we reconcile this with love?  Anthropologist and love expert Helen Fisher has given a few TED talks about love. Here is one that goes into detail about what’s happening in our pitiful little brains when we’re stupid in love:

Stem cell biologist Bruce Lipton also explored this topic in The Honeymoon Effect, where he not only examines the physics and biology of love, but tells a very powerful love story of his own that illustrates the science behind love. It’s a fascinating book even though he uses exclamation points.

So, back to me…

I’m about six months into this love thing. It’s real love, I’m telling you. I love this man from the furthest corners of my being. We are deeply connected and getting closer all the time. Yet, when he leaves, I am always empty. It’s as if he takes his love with him. Sure enough, I get texts from him soon after he’s left telling me how beautiful I am, how much he loves me, etc, etc. etc. (I know, I know. Ack.) The point is that my level of security and assurance in the relationship go up and down irrationally. When he goes away, so does my dopamine. Somehow, this man, who has soothed my most chaotic places, is also stirring up entirely new chaos in my heart. He has both set me right-side-up and thrown me sideways.

So, how do we negotiate between the most powerful drive on the planet and the fact that it is designed to make us crazy with the fear of losing it? How are we supposed to behave lovingly towards someone we love when our primal architecture is an agenda of madness? How can we receive the genuine love someone shows when we are also afraid of losing it?

Let me know if you’ve figured it out. Please.

Love Actually

Yesterday I was not in love.  I was decidedly in thorough dislike.  This, after being in love the weekend before and also at some point before that.  Now, I am back in love.  And I’m having a hard time keeping up with it all.

I met someone quite accidentally.  Though I realize that’s how most people meet.  (Online dating sites aside.)  It was an accident because I was really not supposed to meet him.  I was supposed to be single for the next year or so and – as the name of this blog promises – learn how to love myself.  I have been married for 14 years and am getting divorced.  I have a five-year-old daughter.  I hadn’t had sex in (gulp) years.  I felt (feel) worthless in general and terrified about the future.  Really, all I could cling to was this idea that I could be alone and figure out what love means.

And then I met a boy.  I started participating in a beach volleyball clinic and he is one of the coaches.  He’s not chiseled and dripping sex like one might imagine in this scenario.  (Go ahead and imagine that if you want to though.  Hell, I might stop for a minute and imagine it.)  He chased me up the street after the first practice and asked me if I was going home to take a hot shower.  Not in a “I’ll be imagining you naked and wet” sort of way, but more of a “I can’t think of anything else to say and you’re covered in sand” sort of way.  I stopped to talk to him and we stood on the corner barefoot and sandy, grinning, with our sunglasses on top of our head as the sun went down behind us.

That was about two months ago.  Since then we have been dating.  (Is it considered dating if we just watch movies at each other’s houses?)  And I’ve run the gamut of emotions, mostly because my very unrealistic expectations for a fling have only been partially met.  And by partially I mean, this isn’t so much a fling as it is a full-blown relationship.  But the hardest part for me is that we seemed to have skipped the all-important hummingbird phase where we just buzz around each other, wanting to have sex constantly and whisper in each other’s ears about the sex we’re going to have and the sex we just had.

I brought this up stealthily the other night around 2 AM after we had been drinking and he admitted he didn’t have butterflies (or hummingbirds) with me, but something better.  He had never been so comfortable with a girl as he was with me.  That every time he sees me, he falls deeper for me, his heart grows.  (I’d prefer his nether region grow when he sees me.)  So, all the while he’s settling in to spooning while we watch Marvel comic book movies, I’m back and forth with frustration, then lust when he decides to take off my pants during said Marvel comic book movie, then back to frustration when he doesn’t want to do a play-by-play of the sex, complimenting my every gesture and impactful groan.

Comfortable.

Of all the things I would want a guy to feel for me, this is not one of them.  I feel hurt and angry that he doesn’t buzz into a hard-on when I walk into the room.  The sex is great, don’t get me wrong.  (But after five years, honestly, it could be super average and I wouldn’t know the difference.)  And he’s into me in the moment, but… I want that impossible vibrating in your belly that makes you high and then angry later when it fades and you want it back.  I want the roller coaster, the obsessing, the jealousy, the “that ass belongs to me” …

Don’t I?

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