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

Blog #17: Love, Lust and Losing

Day 295:  No Sex

Okay, so I know you are wondering where the hell I’ve been . . . 

To be quite honest, I am too . . .

Wondering where the hell I’ve been (that is).

You know life is funny sometimes . . . okay . . .  dammit . . . most of the time.

We put ourselves out there . . . throw caution to the wind . . . flick ourselves at LOVE like spaghetti on a wall and hope we’ll stick.

And sometimes we do stick  . . .  for a while, and then we eventually peel off inch by inch, until we are a soggy, droopy piece of cold and limp pasta on the ground that nobody wants to eat.

And even for being ground inhabiting spaghetti, I am grateful.

Because whether we stick or we fall, it is all a part of living . . . a part of breathing in this God forsaken world that consists of everything wonderful, beautiful, nonsensical, obscure, and at end of the day . . . lovely as hell.

I’m not saying it’s all fun and games.  I am saying that it’s all a part of the big picture . . . the autobiographical portrait of each and every one of our lives.

You now how Charlie Sheen’s current claim to fame from all his melodramatic celebrity demise can all be summed up by one word . . .

“Winning?”

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Let’s face it:

Anything can be considered “Winning” nowadays . . .

“Unknown” sex tape “accidentally” revealed launching a billion dollar franchise:

“Winning.”

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Still making millions as a pro golfer even after you have admitted to having multiple affairs with a slew of strippers and porn stars:

“Winning.”

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Still booking million dollar roles on Blockbuster movies even after having a dramatic tirade on set when a crew member accidentally makes a boo-boo:

“Winning.”

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(Insert Minor Tangent):  I swear if I see one more person post the word “Winning” on their Facebook profile in conjunction with some (admitably) noble and worthy achievement, I may go absolutely bananas.

Hey, we’re all winning.  But the reality is . . . not all-ways . .

Which leads me back to what you guys came here for . . . stories about sex, relationships, and hopeless crushes that will probably never materialize  . . .

So the last you heard from me, I had spent the night with (RD) reality dude.

We started our liasion with an interesting prelude – a potentially beneficial partnership:  A role in my next screenplay . . .

We instantly clicked . . . and unlike all my million assorted presumptions – he was smart, witty, intellectual, and sensitive.

After a little flirtatious banter for a couple of weeks . . .

We had our first “official” date:  a sweet college-like evening filled with a home-cooked dinner, great wine, comfy boxers . . . and . . .

Drumroll please . . .

No sex.

As tragic as that may sound . . . I was actually ok with it . . . or even more than ok with it.

I wanted to actually get to know reality dude, and I knew that wouldn’t happen if I gave him wee-wee privileges on the first date . . .

Let’s face it, men are hunters and they like to acquire their prey . . . and if you don’t believe me . . . you’ll have to read my blog about Carne Guisada . . .

but anyway back to the point . . .

So we did not have sex that night, and I felt that the date went quite well overall.

I hadn’t done anything I was going to be ashamed of sharing with my girlfriends over Sunday brunch . . . yes, girls really do – do that on Sundays . . not just in TV shows.

However, despite my perceived success of the date . . . the flame unfortunately fizzled out over the next couple of months . . .

And it kinda went like this . . .

He got busier and busier with celebrity appearances and Hollywood parties, and I – to be honest – wasn’t that interested in trying to force myself into the unrealistic mold of a bombshell that I could never be . . . and from I understand . . . having Silicon somewhere on your bodily premises is a requirement to be admitted into these parties . . .

Just in case you didn’t know . . . I am silicon deficient.

Nonetheless . . .

There was one instance that I remember being the definite breaking point . . .

He was hosting a charity event . . . and he invited me to go . . . but he also fed me the “disclaimer” over the phone the night before . . .

RD: “Listen honey . . . I really want you to be there . . . but I hope you understand that I’m gonna be really busy and I may not be able to spend a lot of time with you . . .”

Me:  ”No worries, I get it . . . I want you to focus on your stuff . . . it’s important . . .”

And believe it or not, that was the fork in the road . . .

In the end, I did not go to the event.  Not because I minded being the doding date on the sidelines, but I realized that it just wasn’t me . . .

Or maybe I should say . . .  it just wasn’t in me.

I liked RD a lot, but I guess not enough . . . and I have come to finally realize that in order to truly make a relationship work . . . you really need to like/love the person enough . . .

Enough to make sacrifices and compromises . . .

Enough to step out of your comfort zone (sometimes) . . .

Enough to stand on the sidelines and the the best cheerleader when required, no matter what is required . . .

Enough to be willing to make changes within ourselves – especially when we know the change/s will make us better human beings.

Enough to do what it takes to make it work.

RD was an amazing man . . . I myself cannot even pinpoint why I wasn’t willing to put in the “work” that was required to be the sideline girlfriend.

The bottom line was . . .  I didn’t like him enough to be what he needed, or even more importantly what he deserved . . . and I knew it.

He was pretty distant with me following that episode . . . and honestly . . . I felt like quite a dud for not showing up.  I regretted not having a conversation about what I was really feeling . . . but either way . . . he never asked.

We saw each other a couple of times over the following weeks . . . and the moments were quaint, but somehow not as magical as our first date.

I knew it was over and so did he.

We didn’t make an event out it . .  we just let it be.

To his credit, he started dating a really hot Russian model shortly after that, and she looks way better in those Hollywood “bombshell” dresses than I ever could have.

So there you have it – that was the RD story.

Naturally . . . I am still single . . . and still sexless . . . but not regretful.

I took a break from the dating scene and focused on work for a while . . . I know I needed that.

I must admit I lost on this one . . . but that’s okay . . . I don’t mind going back to kissing a few frogs . . .

Unlike Charlie Sheen . . . we can’t always be . . .

“Winning.”

See ya next time.

- Lucky  

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