F*ck Buddy

“Why does my F*ck Buddy have to live 3000 miles away?” I stood stunned, as the full weight of this statement slammed into me like a freight train. Yes, I knew we weren’t “together”. We weren’t in a relationship-the dreaded “r” word, kryptonite to my otherwise stable sensibilities anyway. But we were something…I thought…something meaningful, well more meaningful than this. What an ugly turn of phrase, f*ck buddy. I didn’t say anything but my companion could read the hurt which I quickly tried to hide behind a forced smile.

“I don’t know why I said that. It’s not even true.”

We talked briefly, came to some sort of uncomfortable compromise and continued with our day but it was clear a chasm had suddenly erupted in that one thoughtless moment, and all I wished was to throw myself into it.

It is many months since this occurrence and we are friends, quite close in fact and we have been able to laugh about many things, but this one not so much. I’ve had a lot of time to sit with this and to discuss it with other people. Yes, I am a highly and perhaps somewhat overly analytical person. And we all know that I have issues with the word f*ck. But, I think sometimes people, men in particular, but women as well don’t understand the damage they do with simple words. I’ve had men since my divorce became a known quantity try to convince me that now I should EXPLORE MY SEXUALITY, which is man code for “do me and don’t expect dinner.” I’m no prude, I have not retreated from sex but I still don’t sleep with anyone where trust is lacking and for me, it is never casual. And that is not something I feel I should be ashamed of. There is no shame in wanting to keep sex special. It doesn’t have to be life changing or permanent but it should be meaningful.

I’ve had men and women say to me, “I’m just being honest.” But is f*cking someone you not only don’t care about but don’t feel anything for one way or another honestly what you want? I mean, why not just engage in some seriously self-loathing masterbation while you’re at it? Ok, now I do want to try that but I digress.

When I was an adolescent and my mother and I had “the talk” she did not try to convince me that I should be well-married and virginal into my adulthood-and well she shouldn’t have for she herself was no blushing flower but she said something to me that has always stuck. “Laurel, sex should be special. It isn’t just physical, it’s emotional.” She told me about going to a party with her room mate and when they arrived she laughingly confessed she had slept with nearly all the men in the room. “I didn’t judge her for it. I loved her,” my mother said, “but…it made me sad. For you, I just want you to never regret having slept with someone. It doesn’t have to be forever. But it should be that in twenty years if you run into that man in the street, you both will smile and it will be a pleasant memory. And forever he will care about you. And he should care about you. That is all I want for you.” That has always stayed with me and guided my actions.

I don’t condemn casual sex; I just know it is not for me. And I know that for me, since there is such a strong level of trust and caring with anyone with whom I choose to share myself, the sky’s kind of the limit on what I can be open to. Isn’t it ironic? So many people think, they are so free with their sexuality, but it is far easier to be open (to some really crazy sh*t) with a friend than with a stranger.

It’s true what we had was fleeting-brief by necessity and design-but still wonderful in the moment and lovely in the reverie.

So, as for f*ck buddy, I just want to say, it isn’t necessary to diminish something beautiful in an attempt to make it casual. Sex can be intimate and meaningful and yes, even life changing without having to be forever. Give it a try some time. You might just find that trust and love…they’re a pretty great kink!