My sex life is certainly NOT like the movies, . . . I just wish it was ~ Lucky Lopez

Blog #1: My Sexless World

Day 49:  No Sex

Hello World!  Welcome to my chatter blog.

My name is Lucky Lopez.

I live in the land of realized and broken dreams where the possibilities of life are enslaved to the nebulous concept of “luck,” . . . where burnt orange is the preferred “shade” in a complexion, and Friday night’s most desired destination is determined by the number of overeager paparazzi sporting their worn-out skinny jeans alongside an overused red carpet:  Los Angeles.

Despite my name, the truth is I am not that lucky . . . or shall I say . . . I am not that lucky in love.

Dating in 2010 is difficult enough – then add the City of Lost Angels – (the hub of desperately seeking singles) as an ingredient, and you are more likely to end up with a recipe for disaster than you are culinary genius.

With Los Angeles ranked #1 by Forbes last year as the city with “the largest ratio of singles to the entire population of the metro,” . . . you have to wonder if the attempt to date in L.A.  is what makes everyone want to remain single.

In the “30′s” dating world, you often resort to the “Except” Disclaimer“.  You find yourself gushing about your current beau . . . comparing him to a “somewhat” shorter Matt Damon mixed with a “somewhat” chunkier Bratt Pitt and a “somewhat” less suave George Clooney . . . only to end the sentence with “except that” – usually followed by a slew of possibilities including, but not limited to the following:

  1. He’s an alcoholic
  2. He’s still married
  3. He’s unemployed
  4. He wants to be an actor
  5. He just turned 21 . . .

With #5 being the preferred possibility in the list, of course.

For me, none of the 5 currently apply . . . at least not to my current knowledge.  I have been dating my beau “exclusively” for 3 months.  No, he is no Matt, Brad, or George . .  My current beau is more like a younger Paul Giamatti – which trust me, in my world, is still not half bad.  He’s an unmarried, employed, non-actor that enjoys a glass of red wine every now and then, and takes me on a date at least once a week.

I know what you are thinking . . .  I should be grateful.   And, . . . for the most part, I am.

He is a good man.

However, here comes my “except”:

Despite the fact that I am in an otherwise happy committed relationship, it is deficient of that one little ingredient that most college co-eds take for granted and usually occurs with greater frequency than the increases in their bank account– yes I’m talking about that three letter word:
S – E – X.

It hasn’t always been this way – we did have about one month of fantastically-incredible-”I can’t get enough of you” sex, and then it all went downhill, and I haven’t figured out why.

I am consciously aware of the several strikes against me.  I am unmarried, in my thirties, and do not look like Kim Kardashian in a bikini . . . or even Kim Kardashian in a burka or a muumuu for that matter.  But is that really the point?  Even simple, non-goddess looking women deserve to have sex don’t they?

So as I sit here on a lazy Sunday morning, over caffeinated and bulging out of my two-sizes-too small yoga pants that I refuse to give up because the cotton/terry cloth blend is absolutely irreplaceable – one question remains prominent on my mind . . .

If it is really true that people are “having sex an average of 127 times a year,” why am I not one of them?

I mean really – am I the only one living out an episode of “NO Sex in The City?”

Are we 30-something’s really as entitled to a good nooner as we are to owning our “one” pair of granny panties?  Okay, maybe more than one . . .

I have to believe that I am not alone in this strikingly depressing dilemma, even if only to survive another day in the world of us desperately dating singles that actually regard winks on as a stroke to one’s dating ego.

Should the lack of sex in an otherwise happy relationship be a dooming deal breaker?  Or should us thirty-something’s look past “minor” relationship flaws simply to avoid entering the endless ocean of meaningless text messages, denied google name searches, and overly expensive scheduled bikini waxes?

Either way, I – Lucky Lopez – the one who desires to fix all things hopeless – employing my admittedly screwed up effort to psychologically gain self worth and affirmation, refuse to give up on my younger Paul Giamatti, who apparently does not have sex at the top of his list.

I am setting out on my quest to purge my current relationship of the “Except Syndrome.”

I am convinced that the next time you visit me here on this viral form of dating catharsis . . . I will have improved my conjugal status tenfold.

Stay tuned . . .


Copyright 2010 Converge Entertainment, LLC

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One Response to Blog #1: My Sexless World

  1. Gordo says:

    A friend of a friend of another friend passed this posting along, and it arrived serendipitously in my email this morning. I do not fancy myself a consummate blog reader nor one who can distinguish between Sex in the City and Sin City. But, as my nickname implies, I am one who knows something about feeling less than whole, both physically as a once overweight child and now emotionally as a 30-something Latino seeking Senorita Right.

    My girlfriend left me this morning. No, not for work or to go to the gym. She left for good. We had been dating for 10 months, on and off…mostly off. I think the last straw was my shrugging of the shoulders when she asked me if I could ever see myself getting married to her. I broke her heart and my own.

    I knew when she left this morning with all of her things that she wasn’t coming back. Why would she? I was a former fat kid who stretched out and was enjoying his new found sex appeal to women all around. My ego had gotten so big that I thought women on the street were waving at me at late hours of the night. Of course, to my disappointment, I realized later they were flagging down their cab home.

    Instead of being happy, I had become empty and hollow. I think my girlfriend saw what I have only now begun to see: that an everlasting love needs care, affection, attention, hope and, yes, even sex, to survive.

    Maybe we lose sight of an everlasting love and choose instant love instead. Maybe, as 30-somethings, we have become set in our ways and do not want to change our habits. Maybe, as Latinos, we have a glorified ideal of what our familia is and should be. Maybe we are truly seeking Señor or Señorita Right with an open heart. But sometimes we must look inside ourselves before looking outside ourselves.

    Lucky, we are on opposite ends of the gender world, where we eye the other with desire and yet often with distrust. I admire your trek through the dating minefield that is LA, and I admire even more your willingness to share it with the rest of the world. If it does not bother you too much, I will revisit your blog from time to time and leave you my thoughts and experiences.

    In the meantime, I hope that you become truly lucky in love.


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