Black paint & red shoes

In theory, I enjoy boys who are incredibly giving, creative, book smart, facial-hair free and athletic. They have to be completely supportive of me sometimes at their own expense and go to great lengths to confess their undying devotion. Also, they should be very neat as I am germaphobic. 

Yet, my perfect boy ended up being a bearded chemist who enjoys backgammon more than basketball. He also is lazy, extremely messy, a bit of a smart ass and completely skeptical of me and all my lofty ambitions. I adore each of his discrepancies. 

In my limited experience, I’ve found that those good-on-paper boys aren’t even OK in real life. They tend to be boring, at best. Because, true connection isn’t found in cookie-cutter qualities.

True connection is based on complementing one another; flaws and all. My good-on-paper guys aren’t ever long-term compatablie because I base them on a good-on-paper version of myself…completely disregarding all my quirks and weaknesses. For example, the good-on-paper Jennifer is a strong female who desires a supportive man. In real life, I’m crazy. I need someone to be firm and rational to snap me out of the darker times. 

So, to all my ladies who can’t seem to find that special someone, the key is to be honest with yourself first. You have to look past your own good-on-paper mask to discover that amazing guy underneath the dog-hair covered, junker-car driving, knock-knock joke telling, extra-10 lbs. carrying exterior.      

I know that I spoke of my yearly gyno appointment on Friday. But, I failed to mention a huge accomplishment in my quest to be an active half of an adult, functional relationship.

So, here’s my big news: When asked how many sexual partners I’ve had in the past year, (for the very first time in life) I said, “One. Just one.” Wow!

To clarify, before Owen, I was not a slut. I do enjoy sex, and I make no apologies for engaging in the frivolous occasionally. Also, I’ve been in long-term relationships before, but I’ve never made it to the one-year mark without breaking down or cheating. I just thought that monogamy wasn’t in my nature.

However, this “sacrifice” was a lot easier than I thought it might be. I enjoy Owen both in and out of bed…and we only get better each day. I can’t imagine that 20 guys could make me this happy.   

At first, just the touch of a hand would suffice. I would get a quick rush with a lasting tingle. Hand holding became less casual…I moved on to kissing. Light, closed-mouth kisses. Fireworks exploding. Somehow this high seemed to burn brighter but faster than the last. Urgent kissing…I want more. Hard kissing leading to awkward fumbling leading to more…

A drug addict searching for the next high but never able to recreate the initial rush from the first hit. Why wasn’t I content to just hold hands? 

Sex injuries. They happen to everyone. Sometimes their origin is more painful than the injury itself. Case in point, a lady friend received rug burns after a particularly amorous evening with a gentleman caller, the only problem-her boyfriend’s home had wood floors throughout. Sometimes the injury is bit more serious. I can’t sit on my boyfriend’s lap, because…well, frankly, occasionally I’m a bit too adamant.  Either way, good sex is a tricky thing. You lose yourself in an animal-istic, passionate search only to return to a body that is marred by sweat, cum and, occasionally, blood….and those spots of torn flesh, those are your trophies to show that you made the journey. 

I’m not a single-friendly gal. I haven’t been single for over a year and a half, and even then it was only for about a month. The longest period I’ve ever gone without a significant other was the 3.5 years of Gabe-free time I had high school (bleh, small-town boys). Some people may think that I hide in relationships, that I’m scared to be alone.

However, I’m not scared to be alone. Quite to the contrary. I’m most scared to be with someone. I’m terrified of basing my life of someone else, because I may miss out on the good or subject them to the bad. I don’t want to become to attached an individual that may not be there tomorrow…share comfortable habits and patterns that cannot be recreated without their presence. I’m terrified of opening up to someone that may decide that I’m not enough. I hate trusting the unknown.

So, why do I subject myself to this couple-dom torture? Because I keep meeting wonderful people who make me believe that it’s worth it. And it usually is…for awhile, then the feeling fades, we break apart, my heart shatters, then another boy, shared interests, promises made…and I wait.

Disclaimer: The relationship that I’m in now feels like it may have no end, a huge first for me. The words have been spoken in the past but never with real instincts or actions behind them. This is very different.