Zen and Sex

by Dermot Davis

  I wonder if the only reason that men and women express interest in each other is because of sex? Let’s say that nobody, male or female, had a sex urge. Would the two sexes even bother getting together? Beyond sex and mating, what would they see in each other? Would they be even interested in each other?

  “Which one would you sleep with, Martin?” enquires Jason.

  “In accord with the natural pecking order of things, I would sleep with whatever women you guys don’t want to sleep with.” My response elicits a genuine laugh from the guys and, for a moment, I feel an elevation in group status. “Let me ask you something,” I say, now that I have their attention. “Do you have any female friends that you just hang out with? Chicks you like but that you don’t have sex with?”

  “Why would I?” asks Jason, looking like he doesn’t understand the question or maybe he does but thinks that it’s a really dumb question to ask.

  “I’m just curious,” I say. “What about you guys? Are either of you just friends with women you’re not screwing?”

  “I’ve got two sisters, already,” responds Jordan. “Why would I want another one?”

  “I hang out with a chick that I’m not fucking,” proffers Conrad.

  “Yeah?” I ask in a tone that suggests, please go on.

  Conrad makes a fist with his left hand. “This is her,” he says. He sticks out the index finger of his right hand, “This is me.” He then shoves his index finger into the fist, to suggest screwing. “This is me in two weeks,” he says, smiling broadly.

  Clearly amused, his buddies slap him high-fives. I mentally calculate how long it will take the guys to have their coffees, flirt some more with the women, have the women join them, have some more coffees and then pair up and head off somewhere to party. ..

  I realize that there is no way that I can sit here or even adjourn to another table and outlast them in order to retrieve the library book from the trash. I will have to consider it a lost cause and think of a really good excuse to give the librarian as to why I lost a book with such a titillating title. Nothing comes to mind right away.

  7. Zen And The Art Of Relationship

  Back at the apartment, I do some work on my ‘look of love’ project. As I look at photo after photo of joyful couples, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever have what they have. Why does it seem so free and easy with these couples? What did they have to go through to get to this point in their relationship? Were there challenges or did it all flow naturally? Do they have a different makeup than regular folks? Less resistance to giving and receiving love, maybe?

  Am I actually lovable? I read somewhere that you have to love yourself first before someone else will love you. Is that true? I can safely say that I like myself but I’m not so sure about the loving part. I’d certainly prefer to be me rather than most people I know, actually probably more than anybody. I might envy good looking, successful people, like Jason, but would I want to be Jason? No, I wouldn’t. Despite his charm and his confidence (bordering on arrogance), his sex appeal and hugely high success rate with amazingly beautiful women, I think that he’s shallow.

  Unless they’re filthy rich, are guys like me relegated to date middle of the road women…and never get a look-in with the super hot, knockout babes?

  Do I even want a super hot girlfriend? Well, of course I do, but at what cost? Never allowed to be my total self, I’d probably have to pretend to be resolute in my maleness and super confident all of the time, never letting them see any insecurities or chinks in my mental armor. What kind of meaningful relationship would that be? I could never be me.

  But then, maybe I’m selling all the super hot babes short and underestimating their genuineness and authenticity by believing that they are only interested in superficial success. Then again, have I ever seen a super hot babe with a geeky guy that wasn’t filthy rich? Not lately.

  My cell phone rings: it’s Frances. For some strange reason my heart jumps into my throat. What’s that about? Should I answer it? What does she want to say? Does she want to vent and tell me off: what a lousy lover I was and then I ditched her and didn’t even have the decency to call her the next day or the day after that to apologize and say that it’s not her, it’s me, I’m the guilty one, I’m a criminal for failing to perform to her satisfaction.

  “Hello,” I finally get the guts to answer and take my medicine.

  “Hello, Martin,” she says, all soft and warm and without a trace of anger, resentment or regret. Again, her voice melts me.

  “I’m sorry for leaving like that,” I say meaningfully.

  “I’m sorry for being so insensitive,” she says and by the way she speaks, so softly and sexily, I get the impression that she’s lying down on her bed maybe watching Sleepless in Seattle for the hundredth time. “I had a lovely evening,” she continues.

  “What are you doing?” I ask after what seemed like a long, but not awkward pause.

  “I’m lying on my bed, reading.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “It’s called Zen And The Art Of Relationship.”

  “What’s it about?” I ask, realizing that’s it’s a stupid question which I left a bit too late to stop.

  “It’s a non-fiction book about applying Zen principles to romantic relationships.” I have no idea what that might be, or mean, so I am stuck for an immediate follow-up question to ask. “Do you know about Zen?” she asks.

  “A little bit…I’ve heard of it…no, not so much.”

  “It’s all about being aware, being in the moment and being mindful of our thoughts and our feelings in the moment, the present moment. I love Zen. It’s simple but very profound at the same time. But it’s ultimately very simple.”

  “That clears it up entirely,” I joke.

  “I know, I know,” she laughs. “I didn’t explain it very well. I find that it’s actually hard to define, you really have to do it and experience it for yourself.”

  “I’d love to,” I say, with implied double meaning that I’m hoping she gets.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” she asks, getting it. “Maybe you have some time?”

  “I have all the time in the world…for you, Frances.” I’m sure I can hear her smile.

  “That’s perfect. I’m driving up north for a family thing. It’s my mother’s seventieth birthday. Want to come?”

  “For the weekend?”

  “I’d love you to come. We can stay at my sister’s place. It’ll be fun. Might take you out of your funk. Oh, I’ve got a call coming through. Think about it and call me back.”

  I don’t need to think about it: I’m in. Wait, she thinks I’m in a funk?

  Again, Frances drives her very swish and comfortable Beemer while I sit in the passenger seat and enjoy the scenery as we drive north. She looks amazing. What’s even more amazing is that, in her casual jeans and t-shirt, she looks like she’s not even trying to look good, she just does. She has music playing that I don’t recognize except to describe it as happy music and not at all what I would listen to normally.

  I find myself conscious of being too cheerful about everything she says and generally smiling too much. I’m not sure if I’m doing it because a) I’m happy, b) I’m trying to be happy or c) I’m trying to appear like I’m not in some sort of funk or depression.

  I would never categorize myself as being a depressed person but I don’t know how I’m coming across to others and in truth, I’m really not sure if I am a glass half full or a glass half empty type of person. I like to think that I’m kind of a bit of both but maybe default to the glass half empty, maybe so as not to become too disappointed when people let me down (or when life, in general, doesn’t go my way, which seems to be a lot).

  If you have high expectations of people and of life, I think that you really set yourself up for some major hurt and disappointment. I would think that the best course of action would be to hedge your bets a little and try to stay in or around the middle, cruising somewhere between exube
rant and gloomy, perhaps.

  “What do you look for in a relationship, Martin?” Frances asks, keeping her eyes on the road. Deep inside me I can hear a large groan and some part of me say, “Aw, shit, here we go…”

  Is this every man’s experience or it just me? Why is it that I only seem to attract girlfriends that are obsessed with talking about relationship in general and the one we’re in, in particular?

  Guys never talk about relationship, except to their male buddies and that’s only when the chick has fucked up or is giving him a hard time about something, usually about nothing. Most guys I know wouldn’t even dare answer their girlfriend’s questions about their relationship because invariably the woman that’s asking has something on her mind. Her asking questions is her way of bringing up whatever problem she has with the guy, so she can let him know what she thinks needs fixing: and as far as women are concerned, just like a house, in a relationship, there’s always something that needs fixing. And ten times out of ten, it’s the guy’s fault.

  “You mean what kind of girl do I look for to be in relationship with?” I ask, knowing that that’s not at all what she’s asking.

  “No, I mean what qualities in a relationship do you think are most important?”

  “I would say honesty… loyalty and… integrity would be on the list. Why do you ask?”

  “I think it’s important that two people should share a common philosophy in relationship, don’t you?

  “Absolutely. Who are your favorite philosophers? Aristotle? Plato? I like Plato, he’s a personal favorite.” She laughs.

  “I just mean that it’s important that we’re on the same page about things.”

  “I agree,” I say and, hoping to put an end to this conversation, I purposefully look out the window, turning my head as if I just saw something of particular interest.

  “Aren’t you curious to know what I think the most important qualities in a relationship are?” Frances asks in a soft, low voice, after a long pause.

  “Absolutely. I’d be very curious to know...”

  “Communication,” she says, emphatically. “Honest communication.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “Honesty, integrity, loyalty and definitely honest communication. And Zen, lots of Zen.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” says Frances and smiles a sexy little smile.

  We stop for lunch at a roadside diner but unfortunately the change of locale does not inspire a change of topic.

  “I only want to have a conscious relationship with my mate from here on out,” says Frances, as we receive our menus. “I’m done with…” Frances pauses, and looks like maybe she is tearing up? What is on her mind? Painful memories, perhaps? “…losers,” she finishes and smiles.

  “I was joking around about the whole Zen thing but obviously it’s very important to you…this conscious relationship business is a Zen thing?”

  “Zen encompasses everything: how you live your life and so on. When applied to a relationship between two people, it means that we practice being conscious of everything, as we go along.”

  “Conscious of everything?” I ask. Again, she laughs a little.

  “It sounds grandiose when I try to describe it but it basically means having an honest communication with each other, talking about the stuff no one ever wants to talk about...practicing being aware.”

  “Like this conversation, for instance?”

  “Exactly. Let’s say you’re jealous but you don’t say anything and instead you act out, and try to get back at me in other ways, being passive-aggressive and so on. People’s feelings get hurt all the time but our tendency is to keep our pain to ourselves and then we either lash out at the world or the other person or try to bury it inside, where it festers into a cancer or something. Either way, it’s unhealthy for the person and the person that they’re with. Obviously the relationship suffers, if not right away, then sometime down the road as all the hurts and resentments build up to one great blow up and kaput, end of relationship.”

  “I see,” I say, casually looking over the menu and then in my best Kung Fu grasshopper voice: “I have seen that you give this great thought. That is good, grasshopper.” I thought I did a pretty good impression and considering her vintage I was sure she would get the reference but from her expression, she either didn’t get it or didn’t think it was funny.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way but are you aware that when you’re uncomfortable or feeling a bit out of your depth, you make jokes?” she then asks.

  Ouch.

  “I like to think I make jokes to…lighten the mood, not get too serious, you know?”

  “Why are you afraid of being serious? Being serious makes you feel uncomfortable? I’m not criticizing you or trying to make you feel bad and if I am, I’m sorry. But this is a perfect example of what Zen is: being aware of what you do and why you do things. What are you feeling right now? Do you want to punch me?”

  “Just a little,” I say, then quickly add, “I’m joking.”

  “Because you’re uncomfortable with your feelings?”

  “I guess.”

  “It’s perfectly okay to feel like you want to punch someone, that’s an instinctual human response. The feeling is a healthy one but denying it is harmful. What the Zen Buddhists would do when they had such an aggressive impulse is…or any impulse, for that matter, is acknowledge it. They would say to themselves something like, ‘I’m feeling angry, in this moment, I’m feeling angry,’ and in this way, by acknowledging it, the anger dissipates. Feeling angry, they didn’t lash out and they didn’t judge the feeling as being wrong or bad and try to bury it inside.”

  “I’m feeling hungry.”

  “Let’s order. Know what you want?”

  Even when the food arrives, Frances is still talking Zen. I like to think that I have an open mind but I don’t think this Zen thing is for me. Trying to be ‘conscious’ of what I’m thinking and feeling all of the time sounds exhausting and, to be perfectly honest, extremely boring…unnatural, even.

  I don’t see the point to all that effort for very little purpose other than to make a relationship last longer. As far as I can tell, all relationships fail, even the married ones. It’s simply a matter of time. That being said, I’m not sure if I favor ending relationships early or late. I guess it depends on how crazy you are about the girl and whether it’s you or she that wants to do the terminating. If you went many years into a relationship and you’re crazy about her and she does the breaking off, it’s going to hurt more than if you just knew each other a little while and you weren’t too into her to begin with.

  Maybe I’m not understanding the whole Zen thing and should maybe give it a try. Being on the same page with someone you’re in a relationship with sounds good to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been on the same page with anyone I’ve ever dated, except maybe when we’re lying in bed after sex, we’re each a bit starry eyed and we both get the munchies together. But I don’t think that’s the kind of same page that she’s talking about.

  “We’re all walking wounded, right?” Frances continues.

  “Right,” I answer quickly, not really sure what she means.

  “When we open our hearts to someone, all our baggage comes to the surface. If the other person doesn’t freak out with their own baggage also coming up, then they could really help that person to heal. As long as we don’t get all reactive when one person is going through something, then each person would be there for the other. I wish we were taught all this in school.”

  “That and the Kama Sutra,” I joke.

  “You’ve read the Kama Sutra?”

  “No. I know what it is but I haven’t read it, cover to cover, no.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “It’s a sex manual…an old book all about sex positions. Right?”

  “It’s an ancient Hindu text, maybe Sanskrit, which describes human love in very poetic terms. It does include sexual positions but it’s not really what one would c
all a manual or a how-to guide.”

  “That saves me a trip to Wikipedia,” I instinctively joke but thank heavens, she lets it slide.

  “We should go through it together. It’s pretty awesome.”

  “I would like that.”

  “How’s the cow?” Frances asks as I cut into my steak.

  “Quit while you’re ahead, Frances. A lecture on vegetarianism and I’m dating cheerleaders.”

  8. A Naked Person Can’t Tell Lies

  When we finally get to our destination, somewhere north of San Francisco in beautiful San Rafael county, it’s dark. I quickly get to meet Frances’ sister, Doris and her husband, Chuck. I didn’t want to ask but I think Doris is a few years younger than Frances, although Frances is so young looking, that I can’t be sure. Her sister and brother-in-law seem like a very weird couple to me and, even though they’re married, they don’t look like they are at all in love with each other. Pretty much like most married couples, I guess.

  Frances did tell me a little bit about them on the way here and I did make a note to myself never to end up like them. For starters, Doris, because of some high-paying executive job in high-end retail consulting work or something is always out of town. What kind of marriage can you be having if one of you is always traveling, right? He’s a techie and works mostly at home, on the internet. I guess they Skype and phone each other to check in and see how their marriage is going from time to time.

  And they do phone sex.

  Which I can totally understand, considering how they are seldom together but please, phone sex? I tried it once but I just couldn’t get into it. The girl I was dating lived across town and one night I called her for a booty call. Except my car was in the shop and she refused to get into hers and drive over to my place. So she suggested phone sex. It was awful. After my initial question, ‘What are you wearing?’ I was out of titillating questions.

  “What are you wearing?”