As a journalist who specialises in matters of the heart – and the bedroom – friends frequently ask me for advice on relationship and sex issues.
On the latter, I have more experience than the average woman. I’m 30 and have slept with over 100 men and had six relationships, three of which were long-term.
I’ve been told by some people that my (healthy) sexual appetite somehow makes me less worthy of love. When I was younger, I believed them – and even referred to myself as the ‘type of woman’ men wanted to sleep with, but not date. Thankfully, now I’m older, I understand what utter bulls**t that is.
If anything, my vast experience has taught me a lot about true love and what I want from a partner.
In my early 20s, I would ‘fall’ for pretty much any man I had sex with. I confused temporary affection and drunken one-night stand cuddles with love, because I hadn’t yet experienced the real earth-shattering kind that makes you feel safe, secure and cared for.
A great casual shag was also like a drug. It gave me an amazing high, but if I did it for the wrong reasons – validation, for instance – I suffered through a post-sex comedown soon after.
Being a hopeless romantic at heart (something I hate to admit) also meant I kept trying to make it work with men I wasn’t all that interested in. Like Danny*, a former colleague with whom I had a brief fling years ago. He was a d*ck – which is ironic considering he had a very small penis – and the sex was average, but I spent months pining over him because I wanted our connection to mean more than it did.
Or Jay*, who I dated for five months, despite the fact I knew we weren’t compatible. We had nothing in common, he lived in a different city and he also had children – which wasn’t necessarily a deal-breaker, but slightly awkward, given I don’t want kids.
I confused temporary affection and drunken one-night stand cuddles with love, because I hadn’t yet experienced the real earth-shattering kind that makes you feel safe, secure and cared for.
Everything changed when I was 24 and met a man who loved me so deeply and intensely that I finally understood what I’d been missing out on. Many of the men from my past didn’t care about who I was or what I had to say, and here was a man who loved my mind more than my body.
It was the first time in my life I felt truly safe. He became my best friend during that time and I knew that he would be there for me no matter what.
Unfortunately the relationship didn’t work out, but it had a snowball effect. As I got older, my antipathy towards casual partners only intensified.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with f***ing around if that’s your jam but the appeal has worn thin for me over the years.
A few months ago I decided to put it to the test. I jumped onto Tinder and within 10 minutes had organised a ‘cuddle and wine’ date with a man who lived around the corner from my flat.
The moment he walked in, I could tell exactly how this would play out. He kissed me and moved onto the sofa where he instructed me to ‘come closer’, while I kept trying to have a conversation with him. What a fool I was, for thinking we might actually talk for a few minutes before taking our clothes off.
Throughout the 15 minutes we spent together (yes, really), all I could think was how I wished he would give me some intellectual stimulation, and how the fact he didn’t want to get to know my amazing mind was off-putting. We didn’t have sex, but fooled around (I still wanted to get something from my experiment and an orgasm is always fun).
It was completely consensual but the experience cemented what I’d suspected for some time – that, for me, casual sex without mutual respect and some degree of intellectual interest isn’t fun anymore – and it isn’t what I’m looking for.
The idea of taking a guy home from a bar or organising a night of Netflix and Chill through a dating app, not knowing if he’ll be good (or last through the performance long enough to give me an orgasm) now fills me with boredom.
Having lots of sexual partners has taught me that I’m comfortable with who I am and unwilling to compromise on how I should be treated. And in turn, that has revealed what true love really means for me: meeting my equal, a person who stimulates my mind and body and, above all, respects me.
Make no mistake, sex still ranks very high on my list of requirements, but not because I’m dying for someone to get me off. I can do that on my own.
Sex is a way to connect with someone you love on a different level. It’s by no means everything but I’ve realised that sharing my bed, and my heart, with someone who isn’t bothered about anything beyond my vagina isn’t a turn-on anymore.
I’m not saying that casual sex is off the table forever – my urge to get freaky is still very much alive, and I wouldn’t deny myself if that’s what I choose in the future.
But right now I want more. So, when I go on a date and the other person inevitably asks what I’m ‘looking for’ – to which, by the way, there is no good answer – I try my best to tell the truth: love.
Write for Love, Or Something Like It
Love, Or Something Like It is a brand new series for Metro.co.uk, published every Saturday. If you have a love story to share, email rosy.edwards@metro.co.uk
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source https://metro.co.uk/2019/10/19/a-decade-of-casual-sex-has-shown-me-what-true-love-really-is-9914159/
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