You're Ready to Get Back on the Bike . . . Who do you Trust to Put On the Training Wheels?

Staci Backauskas (c) 2000

OK it's been a while since you've ridden the stone pony. You don't remember the last time someone besides you touched one of your erogenous zones. You've begun to believe in the concept of "re-virgining." But one day the Chunky Monkey is no longer enough. Your body hungers for playing fingers, dancing tongues and beardburn. And ten pints of Chunky Monkey won't satisfy it. Where do you find him? Is it acceptable to do it on the first date if you like him? Are you destined to own stock in Ever Ready? What if the juices don't flow? What if they overflow? Is there a way to get what you want without feeling like a tramp?

I'm here to tell you there is! When I decided a while ago that I'd had enough of self-induced pleasure, I didn't know where to look for a suitable candidate to bestow my newfound virginity on. I knew I wanted sex, but I also knew that I wasn't going to be comfortable going to a bar and picking up a stranger. I didn't necessarily need him to be my soul mate, but completely anonymous sex wasn't an option for me.

For quite a while, I had thrown myself into my career, finished my book, gotten it published and was working like mad to promote it. But a girl's gotta have some fun, right? So I wrote an honest personal ad, telling my would-be Romeo that I wasn't searching for a knight on a white horse. But rather someone who wanted to share the experience of jumping back into the dating scene, which I equated to flying naked over the Atlantic without a hot air balloon or land in sight.

I got several responses but focused on "Frederick," even though he was eight years younger than me. The boardroom in my head was standing room only. From: "You're such a slut. How can you even think about sleeping with someone you haven't even met?" To: "It's just sex." Even, I'm embarrassed to admit: "Why would he buy the cow when he can get the milk for free?" Being a spiritual person, I found it challenging to reconcile human horniness with what my soul longed for Æ true companionship.

We e-mailed each other for a couple of weeks before agreeing to meet. I felt like I knew him, a little bit at least, and that made getting together for the first time much easier. I was nattering on my cell phone with a friend when he pulled into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot where we had agreed to meet. He looked nothing like I expected, but was handsome Æ and smelled really good. Always a bonus.

After shooting pool, we discussed getting something to eat. In preparation for our rendezvous, I had chicken marinating in the fridge and offered to cook if he picked up the wine. Back at my place we drank wine and hung out on my porch looking at the stars, talking and laughing. He was a sculptor. I'm a writer. We had a lot in common. But he didn't so much as put his arm around me. By one o'clock, I had written the night off as a pleasant, platonic affair.

He had driven an hour for our date and had been drinking, so I offered the couch if he wanted to crash. He admitted that at least a nap was probably a good idea. When we said good night, he surprised me with a kiss and one thing led to another. Next thing I knew we were both prone on the couch.

But the voices in my head were screaming again. Having been raised Catholic certainly wasn't an advantage in this situation. As he was making a particularly tender move, for some reason (could it have been the voice of fear?) I became acutely aware of the television, which was blaring over our "mmm's" and "ahhh's." To make matters worse, I commented on something. PSSSST. That would be the sound of me putting out his fire.

The moment was lost. Poof. Gone. He rolled over and I got up and went into my bedroom, leaving him alone on the couch to fall asleep. Now the voice that really wanted to have sex was kicking me in the butt. "How could you have done that? You completely shot him down. You deserve to be alone and horny." I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, tossing and turning.

And then I did something that I've never done before in my life. I made the move. I went into the kitchen to get a drink of water and walked into the living room, where he lay on the couch, and stood there sipping. He asked if I was having trouble getting to sleep and I said yes. Then he asked if I'd like to lie down next to him. It was the first time I'd had sex in almost three years. It was his first time in almost two. (I see you men smirking, but it's possible. Right?)

Needless to say, because of the amount of passion we had both been suppressing, it wasn't an all-nighter. But it was what it was. I thought I wanted an entire night of raging, passionate, rug burned knees, watch the sun come up as you have your fifth orgasm kind of sex. But sometimes what we want and what we really need are two different things.

I was proud of myself. I had managed to go after what I wanted. And I accepted what it was. No big drama around calling again, dating, marriage, etc. It was a hybrid of anonymous sex and relationship sex. I didn't want to be permanently attached to this guy's hip. My career is the most important thing in my life right now. But I am human. And part of accepting our humanity is accepting the fact that sexuality is a part of that.

Sure, I would love to find my soul mate. That would be awesome. But in the meantime, I'll stick with a balanced mix of Chunky Monkey, autoeroticism and nice guys who just want to get laid. No, Frederick and I never consummated our relationship again. But that just leaves the door open . . .