In the Landmark Forum, there is an exercise on choice, in which a volunteer sits in a chair on stage and is offered pretend ice cream. “Chocolate or vanilla: choose,” says the facilitator. The volunteer then chooses one flavor or the other and typically gives a reason to choose it: taste, likes it better, etc. This goes on until the forum participant finally learns that the correct answer is, “I choose chocolate / vanilla because I choose chocolate / vanilla.” We choose because that is the choice we make, and the lesson of Landmark is that all of life is a choice. Deciding to do something kills off one of the options; choosing allows us to move forward with free will.
Yesterday, I had 10 minutes’ notice to prepare my son and myself for his father picking him up and keeping him with him for five days. That was not my choice, and it always leaves me feeling lonely when Patrick leaves – especially abruptly. So I was home alone last night from about 6 pm on, watching some movies from Netflix and on the DVR, feeling lonely. And I got to thinking that a partner would be nice, if only to snuggle. Of course, sex is good too, but the intimacy is what I really miss when I’m alone. I’ve grown accustomed to having another person in the house, and Patrick is a great snuggler.
When single folks are alone and feeling lonely, they often have a backup plan, namely that “booty call” to keep them company. I know I’ve had them in the past, but the truth last night was that I didn’t just want to have a “wham bam, thank you, ma’am” and move along. I wanted to make love.
I’ve long held the belief that there is a difference among sex, making love, and fucking. All have their place, often within one relationship. Sex is good, no doubt, but the intimacy is often lacking. Sex happens as a matter of course, out of need, desire, or obligation. Fucking is animalistic and happens when we’ve been revving up for a bit and just want to penetrate or be penetrated. But making love is pure intimacy, when we’re at our most vulnerable, laying bare our insecurities along with our clothes and letting another person see us for who we are. There’s kissing, touching, loving, and snuggling along with the sex. We feel connected on a level that words cannot easily explain.
Unfortunately, there’s not a 900 number for a “making love call.” It’s based on a relationship that’s built over time and consists of attraction, compatibility, and love. It’s not something I can create at the drop of a hat, yet it’s something for which I search. I have plenty of male friends, and I enjoy their energy and attentions, but I can’t call any of them to make love with me. I choose making love and having a relationship. Perhaps soon it will choose me as well.
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