No, I didn't have it. Yes, an opportunity did present itself. I'm going to start by answering some questions, first.
Who was I looking to satisfy? Satisfying Jake and satisfying Mimi are one in the same. Seriously. But are our needs the same? I don't think they are. If I give you a raw exposure of what's inside, lighting my fire it's all heart. My heart is the key to my sexuality. Can I sit at a bar identify a ripe specimen, make a connection, ignite the passion, give in to animal instincts, give, receive and call it success? There are two answers. Probably. And the other is, No.
I've met men at bars before. Men that rocked me in a way I thought was reserved for Hollywood scripting. Think Diane Lane in Unfaithful, bathroom scene. I've danced with men in clubs, felt their heated breath in my ear, felt their hard cock on my thigh. Like a vampire searching for sustinance, I just wanted a taste. But the circumstances were so different. Jake wasn't there. I was on a girl's trip. It was kind of like a big popularity contest. Men liked me. I drove them wild. Talk about an endorphin rush. I'm just not the girl who would go beyond the dance floor. My heart has been with Jake since I was 19 years old. I would never have a tryst without some type of involvement or input from him.
It's the whole concept of the secret. Sure, you need to have a few in your lifetime. But I've identified that it's far more sexy and solid to have shared secrets. I am my husband's secret. I want to keep it that way.
Flash forward to Vegas last week. I have the 'green light'. Find someone who rocks my world. Do what I please. I tried to take myself back a few years to that dirty desired feeling. It was so sexy for me to rub lotion on myself in my cosmopolitan hotel room thinking about Mr. Hot and Single. My heart and head had arrived at a mutual level of understanding. Here's what turns me on. First, Jake is my ultimate meter. If he thinks I'm hot, I am so turned on. I wonder if this is crazy. We've been together twenty years. The notion that I still drive him wild seems so far-fetched. Yet it's a reality. I get so much pleasure from seeing myself in his baby-blues. When he closes his eyes and dreams, I get to be the star. So what if I have a co-star?
I have all of these CONFLICTING theories of why I struck out searching on my own. The first is that it's not the players, it's me. Were my attempts half-hearted? Was I unapproachable? Yes, I did take off my wedding bands. But maybe there was a barrier up that I am just too close to see. I don't think this is the reason, however. I make friends with just about everyone who comes within eye contact with me. I am beyond friendly. I make a significant effort in everything I do.
Confidence? I could have used a little more, for sure. It's the whole "safety in numbers" concept. Maybe it works in the reverse, too. Maybe picking up a single is easier when you're armed with a group of companions. I'll have to explore this.
Jake and I went to a club that night and met a group of lifestylers. Ironically, there was a beautiful, single male in the mix. He was beautiful because he was polite, articulate, a great dancer and conversationalist. He was well-dressed and in great physical shape. We danced, laughed about our demanding high-maintenance puppies....and eventually said good-night.
Was I interested? No. He didn't do it for me. Just like when you are single looking for a potential mate, there's more to a match than 9-out-of-10 on the scorecard. I wasn't a fan of one-night stands then, and I don't think I am now. Connections are so special and rare. I have made one. I'm not convinced it's possible to make another.
Do I have the same high-standards when it comes to play? Kind of. We've played with a few couples over the past several years. How many? Less than 10. I'm not talking about party kissing & touching. I'm talking about making plans -- dating. We just don't do it regularly. All, or most of the variables need to be accounted for in order for us to share our intimacy.
So, am I done looking for that Single Male? Honestly, I don't know.