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I winced after hearing complaints from a few readers that there isn’t enough sex on this site. They’ve wondered why I created a category for the subject (coupled with dating) and there are barely any posts.
Welcome to my life.
I’m going to assume the premise that sex isn’t everything. (Call it a defensive posture if you must.) But here’s the rub: Having deconstructed the realms where I yearn for a spouse (see Husband Benefits Pie Chart [2]) and then, with a good faith effort, tried to find adequate replacements, the one area for which I can pinpoint no substitute is sex.
Yes, there is always food, like chocolate mousse, chicken pot pie, and Marcella Hazan [3]‘s Spaghetti Bolognese, all of which come close. And just today, as a friend worked on a crick in my upper back with his extremely strong hands, I wondered, could this be as good as sex? On a similar note, last week, during an unusually quiet day at the nail salon, the manicurist, who happens to have exceptional massage skills, kneaded my feet for ten minutes and I asked myself the same question.
A few Sundays back, I was feeling bold, and decided to introduce myself in person to an attractive man I knew only from Facebook. Wearing a tight coral t-shirt and pale lip gloss, I parked across the street from the bistro he owns. As I was about to enter his restaurant, I made a pivot, and ducked into a boutique a few buildings down, resolved to buy something, anything, so I could have a shopping bag on my arm, and casually say, upon meeting him, “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood.” I purchased a cute pair of James Perse [1] shorts within minutes, which turned out to be the true and enduring highlight of the day. (The attractive man had no interest in me.) All of which served to remind me that there is no substitute for the buoyancy of a new outfit.