Annika left yesterday morning, early, before I got up to go to work. We didn’t get much sleep–we had sex most of the night and talked intermittently. “We’re a funny sort of friends,” she said, naked, tangled up in me, her head resting on… my shoulder? collarbone? chest? There really ought to be a name for the nook someone rests their head in, under your chin, in front of your neck, the place you put your hand when you say the pledge of allegiance. Anyway, “we’re a funny sort of friends.” And there we were, post-sex, having spent five days fucking and hanging out, but not falling in love. We are a funny sort of friends. The sort of friends who laugh and have fun together, talk about each others’ lives, listen actively, share forthrightly, are honest and genuine with each other. Also the kind of friends who find each other sexy, who flirt with each other, who make out and fuck. But… also the kind of friends who act like a couple? Who cuddle and kiss and pet each other and go on dates? Don’t those things generally mean you’re more than friends?
It’s strange. The first time we met, she was visiting with her friend, Becky, my roommate’s on-again-off-again lover. That first time, though, I was already occupied with another girl. Annika and I had one conversation, just one. But I thought she was hot and when Other Girl came and went, and turned out to be a married woman who picked me to fall in love with (”It’s not all women, I’m not gay, it’s just you!”) and then became all puppy-dog on me, and then when Annika came back to visit again with Becky the following weekend, that’s when Annika and I hit it off. The whole weekend (which turned out to be a four-day weekend… I even missed work) she and I were together, which involved a whole lot of making out, a whole lot of getting drunk, sleeping on the floor of a hotel room with 8 other people, and then finally, the last night, having amazing sex in my bed at my place (while my roommate and Becky, coincidentally, were having sex in their room).
And I thought that was that. But then Annika came back to San Francisco, to visit. This past weekend. Three weeks after she was here the last time. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been attracted to someone smarter than me,” Annika told me. “Smart is sexy.” (I don’t think I’m smarter than her–she’s pretty fucking smart herself–but I do think that one of the things that made us click was that I could be intellectual with her. I could talk about philosophy and gender theory and she thought it was hot. I like that in a woman.) So she came back, for five days.
I was nervous. I’m not in a place right now where I want to be in a relationship. With anyone. I don’t want to be in love. I want to be single, I want to be exploring sexuality, I want to be connecting with lots of different people, and being open to lots of different possibilities. It’s not that long ago that my Ex and I broke up and we had a pretty difficult relationship at the end. And I’m just done being miserable, done living for someone else. I need to learn how to live for myself before I get involved with anyone else. So having Annika come back seemed like a major thing that I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
And I’m still not sure what to make of it. “I’m not really looking for anything serious,” she told me. Phew. But what on earth is our connection about? It’s so odd. I’m not in love with her, and I don’t know if I ever would be. But we had really good sex (interestingly, with her, I was a consistent bottom–very unusual for me; “I felt the urge to hold you, heal you,” Annika told me (why? is what I want to know), “I just assumed you were a bottom, didn’t you assume I was a top?” I did, actually, assume she was a top, so I may have just been playing along with that–also interestingly, she said she’s not usually a top–what’s up with the switcheroo?!) and really good conversations, really good chemistry. We acted like a couple the whole time. But I’m just not feeling the idea of getting serious with her.
And that’s kind of a first for me. Feeling good about just having a casual non-monogamous fucking thing going on. We’re a funny sort of friends, I guess. And it works. She left to go back to Seattle yesterday morning, kissed me gently before tiptoeing out and running off to the airport, and I haven’t felt a particular urge to talk to her or call her. But I also do still want her in my life, and she’s thinking of moving here in January. So what will happen then? Will we keep fucking? Decide to call it quits and be friends? Decide to step it up and date? Who knows.
What I do know is, I’ve learned something about myself. That it’s possible for me to have sex–awesome sex–with women I am not in/soon going to be in a committed relationship with. That I can do it without overanalyzing, getting nervous and self-conscious, and feeling vulnerable. And maybe part of my reluctance to think of getting at all serious with Annika anytime soon is that, hot damn, I want to do this some more!