Have you ever had a phase in your life when, in spite of being open to a sexual relationship, your romantic universe just doesn’t collide with the universe of Mr. A&A (Attractive and Available)? I call this, Sexopause. It can last a few weeks, a few months or, as in my current case, a few years.
Sexopause can seem tiresome. Our world abounds in not-so-subtle pressure to couple up. Books, blogs, movies, advertisements, songs, all urge you, entice you, advise you, to find a screwing partner, pronto! Life can feel frustrating when, despite your best efforts, you find yourself single on Valentine’s Day. This is all perception – there’s no need for Sexopause to be tedious or exasperating. This year I celebrate Sexopause by sharing with you some of its many benefits.
1. Hairy legs in winter. No one is going to see or rub up against your legs, armpits or crotch during winter, so unless you love doing it, why shave? I rather enjoy turning into a cave woman for a few celibate months.
2. The only dirty socks and clothes lying around are your own. Ditto flatus, toothpaste dribbles, and curly hairs in the tub.
3. The remote control is where you left it. And guess who decides when the TV set goes on, when it goes off, not to mention what shows get watched or flicked through? I revel in no more televised MLB evenings, no more Hockey Nights in Canada.
4. Dick Flick Hiatus. During Sexopause, when you head out to the movie theatre it’s to settle back and lose yourself in a romantic comedy, or a drama starring some brilliant female actress or gorgeous, hunky man. One of the most enjoyable movies I’ve seen during my Sexopause is Toy Story 3. I know I would’ve missed it on the big screen had I been coupled up at the time of its release. Will you notice the absence of car chases and explosions, the “action” plots and scantily clad female love interests/male fantasies? I think not.
5. Serenity, composure, and calm. These are your states of mind when you settle into Sexopause. Conversely, when I’m in a romantic relationship my attachment mechanism (which is anxious, thanks Mom, thanks Dad) is triggered. Unless I’m feeling secure, I’m in a state of perpetual low-grade anxiety – trying to play it cool when he doesn’t call or return messages; trying to ignore his wandering eyes and new Facebook friends. On a bad day my attachment mechanism fears losing him and I have been accused of paranoid suspicion. Hmm. Serenity or fits of jealous vulnerability – which do I choose today?
6. In Sexopause, the only possibility for you to contract a STD or STI is via a toilet seat. And that aint gonna happen, sister, so case (and toilet seat) closed.
7. Self-care. As Alvy Singer put it, “Hey, don’t knock masturbation! It’s sex with someone I love.” Women’s health experts recommend sex a couple of times a week. I interpret this as a prescription for orgasms. And believe me, during Sexopause, you can be as healthy as you like.
8. Dressing for you. No one casts aspersion on your old yoga pants or the comfy torn tee you choose to sleep in. No one eyes your rear end when you pull on your somewhat snug but favourite jeans. No one says, when you wear your new sweater for the first time, “Where’d you get that?” You wear what you want, when you want.
9. No one pressures you to have sex (and I mean no one!). As much as sex can be rollicking good fun, you gotta admit, at times it’s messy, sweaty, smelly, and a bit too action-packed. Seduction is wonderful, but plain old sex when you’re too tired and lazy, well it’s one chore I’m rather glad is not on my to-do list today.
10. A reading room on your bed. On the half which used to be reserved for a snoring, 98.6°F human being, you can keep an assortment of books and reading material. Before you decide to darken your room for a night of undisturbed sleep (okay, that may be an exaggeration if, like me, you have cats or the bladder of a middle-aged woman) you can lie in bed and read as long as you like. I often pause, gaze around my bedroom and smile. I’m happy, I’m content, and like everything else in life, this too shall pass.
photo credit Roxanne McLeod