Though I have been occasionally referred to as a “sexpert,” I have never in my life — ever — been called a relationship expert. I’ve had the same relationship problems everybody’s had: messy breakups, bad sex and infidelity — the works — and I usually don’t have a fucking clue how to fix them.
Nevertheless, I spent my winter break getting engaged. Since I am therefore all mushy-wushy lovey-dovey nauseating, I’ve been commissioned to write a special V-day sex column, er, loooove column. Those of you who detest Valentine’s Day can skip to the bottom, where you’ll find a little something special for you, too. Those of us who are in the mood for love and romance and small, artificially-colored candy hearts, well… I will do my best.
Again, not that I’m an expert or anything, but among the things I’ve learned is that love at first sight is a great big pile of shit. When I first met my fianc?, he was my housefellow and I had a boyfriend. Truth be told, I was not aware there were straight guys who worked in housing, and I didn’t give him much thought unless I wanted the paddles for the ping-pong table in the den. Even on our first Valentine’s Day together, I wasn’t really sure if it would last, so I told him not to get me flowers or chocolates or jewelry — rather, I wanted (needed) a big, thick, Spanish-English college dictionary (bless his heart — he got me one, and I still use it almost every day).
Relationships take time. Relationships take patience. Relationships take a fine balance of effort and space — no matter how hard we try, we can’t force our relationships to grow, but we can’t neglect them and assume they’ll grow on their own, either. Love is like a red, red rose — sometimes it’s gorgeous and it smells great and you think it’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen, and then one day you find it leafless and shriveled on your windowsill and you don’t know what the hell happened. Other times, you’ll find your red, red rose is part of a whole rosebush, and even though that one rose will die, the bush (shut up) will give you more roses than you ever could have imagined you’d want.
I’ve learned relationships take a lot of reciprocal discomfort. Beyond meeting the parents and figuring out how the other person operates in the bedroom, sometimes relationships require us to do things we do not. Want. To. Do. My partner is a conservative Republican who works in the Capitol (yes… really). I am none of those things. And yet, I am a fairly regular fixture at Republican parties and functions, where I smile and ask polite questions and try not to look uncomfortable. And he is a fairly regular fixture at sexual health festivals and forums, where he smiles and asks polite questions and tries not to look uncomfortable (and also, so he tells me, mentally works on his fantasy baseball team).
Relationships require us to put someone else ahead of ourselves at least some of the time. Losing our sense of self and happiness will destroy a healthy relationship, but so will maintaining our sense of self and happiness at the constant expense of our partners. One of the worst parts of love is being obligated to do things we’d really rather not do, like clean up our partner’s little brother’s puke after he had a tad too much to drink on Halloween. But one of the best parts is knowing if he had to, your partner would be on hands and knees scrubbing the floor for your little sister, too.
Finally, I’ve learned that learning about someone else can teach you all you ever wanted (and sometimes didn’t want) to know about yourself. For me especially, with a partner with many values and beliefs so opposed to my own, I had to figure out what I believed and why I believed it. His challenges to who I am and what I believe, allowing me to refine what I know to be “me.” A great hope of mine is that, now or someday, he may say that I have done the same for him.
To Craig: Thank you. I love you. You put up with it all (this column included), and for some reason still come home for more. Happy Valentine’s Day and Every Day.
And, as promised, a little something for the eye-rollers in the crowd…
Greetings Hump Day columnist,
I’ve been at this school for 3 years and I haven’t had any kind of relationships with any girls on campus. I know this is pretty pathetic, right? Anyway, do you think you could let me know just how I can get sluts in the sack? There seem to be a multitude of them at this school, but I guess I can’t find any. Is there a way I could get started? Plus, I don’t have a fake and I’ll turn 21 in the summer. I’m getting pretty desperate.
Sincerely,
F.L.
Greetings F.L. My first suggestion is to be honest with women. You can start with me. Like be up front about the fact that you’re not actually an introverted but well-meaning guy who wants to find a girlfriend, but rather a smug little fuck who has nothing better to do late at night than send fake, annoying emails to [email protected]. Did you really think I’d believe that a college junior who has ever read my column before would legititmately write to me asking how to get “sluts in the sack”? Nice try, asshat. My suggestion to you: If you want to get laid, go fuck yourself.
Love and kisses,
Erica Andrist
