Susan B.'s Words To Live By: An Ode to Fucking

A bit of a preamble on this one.

Trite though it may seem, Susan B. has a fuck buddy. Or perhaps a booty caller--once or twice a year we get together and have awesome sex*, and then we don't see each other for at least six months. The interesting thing about this guy (I mean, there's more than one, he's an interesting guy, you know what I mean never mind) is that he was my aforementioned first. He did not know this fact until afterwards, and was surprised by it, and the next time he saw me seemed a tad guilty, like he thought he should've called, and I was all "whatever dude" and we did it again.

Though I feel weird posting too much detail (I actually had written more on the subject but changed my mind), suffice it to say that this guy was not any kind of boyfriend, and I sort of took the initiative, though really he made the first move. (Something for which I am eternally grateful.) I left feeling extremely empowered, like I'd thrown off the tyranny of "Someone Special." As though, with his assistance, I'd taken my own virginity.

During our last rendez-vous, about a month ago, he brought up for the first time the whole I-deflowered-you thing. After making it clear that he thought that was awesome, he said something like, "You've probably fucked tons of guys by now." I froze up a little, and he quickly said, "Or not..." And I realized that he'd meant it as a compliment. He thought I'd frozen up because maybe it was untrue and I felt lame or something. I remembered that before I'd even (seriously) entertained the idea of hooking up with him, I'd heard that he, well, got around. To him, a well-notched headboard was a thing of beauty.

And that's when I developed these words of wisdom:

"Some people were born to fuck."

If you'll pardon my language.

This is a slight plagiarism from Love In the Time of Cholera--I think the quote is something like, "Some people fuck and some people don't," but that implies a certain superiority that I do not mean. Plenty of people fuck. I did not invent fucking. But some of us have a different attitude. It probably doesn't even require a high number--you can be Born To Fuck and still like serious relationships. In High Fidelity (the movie, anyway), Lisa Bonet describes fucking as an inherent right. For some people, sex can be a genuinely beautiful thing even if you don't have strong feelings for the other person. Fucking can be beautiful. Fucking can be fulfilling**.

"Fulfilling" is an important word, because I've heard it used by two not-so-into-casual-sex people I know. As in, "How can that be fulfilling?" At the time(s), the question didn't actually make sense to me. Fulfilling of what? And why did it have to be fulfilling? Does everything you do on a Saturday night have to satisfy a spiritual need? But having really thought about it, it really does. Satisfy a spiritual need, I mean. When I moved to London for a year, I called it "running away from home," but my mom called it my Walkabout. And I decided that I had, in fact, found my spirit animal***. Sex was my spirit animal.

What the hell does that mean? Well, probably you either get it right away or you don't. Maybe you get it even if you don't feel that way, I genuinely don't know. There was a recent study suggesting that promiscuous people are either extremely emotionally cold or emotionally warm towards their partners. I guess I fall into the latter category. Unless something went actively wrong, I tend to think of my past partners with great affection, even when I didn't know that much about them****. It is especially wonderful, I realize looking back, when two BTF people cross paths. Maybe that's what made my first time feel so special. It was a meeting of the minds. And other things, obviously, but the important part: maybe we were, in some way, kindred spirits.

I don't know if this idea has any "ramifications." I'm sure, for example, that there are happy pairings across types. One thing I learned from growing up in Greenwich Village: not everyone is the same. Nor should they be. So, however many digits your number is, and however thick your black book, good luck and God bless. May you always be fulfilled.




*The kind that often requires a few days' recovery and a lot of cranberry juice.
**And not just literally.
***Culturally mixed metaphor, but bear with me.
****For example: their last names.