taking on lovers

The phraseology of “taking on a lover” may seem archaic and from a scandalous Jane Austin era novel, but I find it a quite suitable description of what many young women do in today’s hectic world.

The dude who you have fun with, can’t stand for more than a night, but is always dependable nonetheless. .
That guy you call when you are a little stressed.
An f-buddy.

Sitting at a hip bar, drinking champagne from a straw and realizing that no boy was going to hit on us that night (despite short skirts, eyeliner and a head full of hilarious quips and puns) my friend and I got into a long discussion about this trend. After her annual trip to the lady doctor, Esmeralda admitted to having taken on six lovers over the past year. Promptly, we decided that this was 1) not a big deal and 2) she was not a whore.

Back in the day when ladies wore gloves, ankles were sexy and pregnancy was determined by a dead bunny rabbit, we got married at 18 and started “enjoying” our lives. I’m six years past eighteen and have no plans to not “enjoy” my life. And there is something a bit romanticized about having affairs (non adulterous) with beautiful lovers. Despite what the statistics may say, this is not a new trend. Look at Orlando and Rosaline, Valentine and Silvia, Lancelot and Gwenivere and so on and so on.

And now that I have finished my literary plug for the afternoon, back to the topic at hand.

After our talk we both decided what is important is what we, as grown women, feel about this topic.

Dealing with my own experiences of taking on a lover (who was amazing btw I recommend it highly) I had a moment where I questioned my outlook on this particular relationship. I am an adult. He is an adult. We were not using each other. It was mutual. Fun. Safe. Exciting. But I never once had a moment of guilt, shame or anything else a woman “should” feel.

And NOT having that moment is what concerned me. Had I been spending too much time with the blue-collar workers who make up the industry which in I work? Had the title “sexual innuendo girl” (after my quick wit and ability to change even the purest verbiage dirty) gone to my head? Was I hardened? Had I lost my innocence?

Eh – I didn’t care.
And neither did the fella. (I know that for sure, if you know what I mean.)

Always yours, thesexyone.