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When Physical Intimacy Becomes Emotional

Woman with Cell Phone

You know the kind of relationship that almost happens, but never quite connects? The people who even all your friends are like “Why haven’t you two hooked up yet?” and you’re like “Welp, um, ah, er, uh…” And there’s no real logical reason.

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I have a few of those situations in my sexy sex life, but there was this ONE woman who wanted me so bad. I knew it, she knew it, everyone accepted it. We were both the most sexual people in both of our social circles, and when those social circles combined at a mutual friend’s house, it was destiny for us to desire each other. And oh boy, we did want it to happen.

It just never ever quite came together—something would always interfere! Bah. Anyways, a few Halloweens ago, we were at a house party, and she trapped me in the corner and said, “I want to take you upstairs and fuck you—now.” But she just broke up with someone who I knew very well, and I knew that she was still emotionally attached to this guy.

If we were to have sex, it wouldn’t feel as clean and connected as my karma wanted our wild animal super sex bonding to be—when it first and finally happened. So, I inverted my intentions and genitals, and said, “No, not yet.” She gracefully bowed out, and circling continued—for years.

Fast forward to last month. I see her on the subway, and she’s a whole new woman. And I’m a whole new man. I do porn now, and I haven’t seen her since the wedding of a close mutual friend (long insane story that should be a Hollywood thriller/romance movie, but I digress). The vibes are still there. We still spark magnets when we hug. Electricity still shocks our pelvises when they are in proximity to each other.

I asked her, “Would you like to get together, after all these years?” And she replied, “I’m monogamous now! With a man who considers you one of his mentors!” Oh, the irony is deliciously ridiculous. I laugh and say, “Okay.” And then…

I’m having a threesome, when I get a text message. It’s an all-night sexfest at a friend’s house, so I have time to take breaks and get water and stuff. (I would NEVER stop having sex to answer a text message. Who do you think I am— some heathen savage monster?! Oy vay, ay caramba! No way.) I take my first break from having sex, and check my messages. It’s her!

She calls, asking for my help. When I talk to her, first informing her that I am actually in the middle of making love, she pours her heart and soul out to me like I’ve never heard her. She shifts the connection from physical intimacy to emotional intimacy faster than I could say: we’ve never shared this level of honesty.

I won’t reveal what she said, but it took more time for me to get off the phone than I ever imagined, and our relationship is now deeper than I ever thought possible.

It’s been the illusion of polyamory for years, and it continues on that path. But we’ve never actually even kissed, that’s the funny thing… oh well.

I have no idea what could be coming next.

Sincerely,
Addi Stewart

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