Absence.

What do I talk about when I don't talk about sex?

As you probably noticed, I’ve been away for a while. Is detailed in previous posts, I’ve been dating a guy — his name is Jacob, and he’s in an open marriage — and I’ve been struggling. Not with the relationship, but with the idea of writing about it.

Why? Because my relationship with Jacob is different. Because he’s more than just a guy I met on a sex app. Because the more I write about him the more (potentially) identifiable he may be. Because I just don’t want to.

But then: What to write about? This newsletter began as a way for me to record my adventures in casual sex: interactions I had with men online, in-person dates, and the sex itself.

Now, I’m just having sex with one person. And having feelings.

It’s been a while.

And it’s weird.

I mean, who’s to say that Jacob and I will last more than a few months? Maybe he’ll decide that the open relationship thing is not for him, and that he wants to recommit to his wife. Maybe his wife will change her mind about the open relationship thing and ask him to cut things off with me. Maybe I’ll fall more in love with him and freak out and do something to sabotage the relationship. Maybe I’ll fall out of love with him, or meet someone else, or decide that I want to play the field again, so to speak. Maybe it just won’t work out. Maybe there’s something terribly wrong with him. Maybe.

Right now, though, I don’t want to be with anyone else. (Nor do I have the energy.) I haven’t opened the sex app in months at this point, and I just told my lover from San Diego, graduate student, that I couldn’t see him on his latest trip to Los Angeles. The PhD student seemed bummed. More bummed than I thought he’d be. After I explained that I’m seeing someone exclusively, he sent me this:

“It’s so funny…I’m really sad but also getting hard just thinking of you even in absence.”

“You’re pretty magical.”

“Your partner is very lucky.”

“From kissing you to talking about deep things to making love is all pretty incredible. You’re so witty, present, worldly and grounded in a rare, beautiful, humble package.”

“Sorry I’ll stop.”

I told the PhD student I was extremely flattered. What I didn’t tell him is that I’d never had a man say things like that to me before.

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I’m still figuring out what I can write about without writing about Jacob. I suppose I can write about what it’s like to date a man in an open marriage. There’s a lot to explore there. (For starters: Desire, freedom, fear, and delight.) It might be worth explaining how things between Jacob and I work, and how they don’t. Sharing what I’ve learned, and the ways in which the people I care about have encouraged and discouraged me in all my Jacob-related endeavors. Maybe I’ll write about how much I love talking to him, and curling up in his arms. Maybe I’ll write about how I’m scared, and that I’ve cried a few times because of that.

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Many years ago someone gave me a tiny canvas — about the size of a 3x5 notecard — and instructed me to write a bunch of words on it about the qualities I’d want in a partner. (I think it was an exercise in manifestation. Very LA.) So I took a fine-tipped Sharpie and wrote the following words:

Presence

Warmth

Nourishment

Play

Perceptiveness

Passion

Respect

Love

Generosity

Friendship

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Oh, and:

Availability.

(Eek.)

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I came across the small canvas a few weeks ago. It was sitting propped up on a bunch of old paperback books on a shelf in my home office, a room I rarely go into. But one day — about 2 months after I met Jacob — I noticed it.

It made me smile.

I like to think that it was finally ready to be seen.

More soon.