Thundering Silence

I bought a new pump for my waterfall, a more powerful pump, requiring thicker hoses, meaning that water runs over the falls at a faster speed, increasing the volume of the water music. Sometimes, the water music is so loud, I can’t hear the birds. I’m not complaining, I feel so incredibly fortunate to have natural music of any kind at such close proximity to my life.

2006 is the year that I am giving my heart a rest. I have a weekend before me with no plans, no children. Two years ago I would have panicked at the thought. This year, not so much. I would actually enjoy the prospect of getting really dirty in my garden, watching chick flicks on cable, and not cooking unless I really wanted to.

Of course, the chances of a weekend alone actually happening are unlikely. I have three men in my life. Three very different men, three intelligent and handsome men, three men that quicken my pulse, though in very different ways. One of them says he loves me, but won’t sleep with me even though we’ve been seeing each other for six months. I scratch my head on that one, but, because this is the year of giving my heart a rest, I’ve decided to not be in charge and just let the relationship progress, or not, whichever the case may be.

One of the men lives in Columbus and is involved with a woman up there. Of the three, I like him the best. I say like, because I can’t let myself think about anything other than like, because, like I said, 2006 is the year that I am giving my heart a rest. But I like him. I like him a lot. I decided, aside from this being the year of giving my heart a rest, that I can’t very well complain about him having a girlfriend in Columbus because I have a boyfriend here in Cincinnati.

One that says he loves me, but won’t sleep with me.

Did I mention that before?

The newest man in my life is a tennis pro. A quintessential playboy. He’s been divorced for decades, says he is looking for love, but seems to be sipping from several flowers in his quest.

Who am I to complain about that?

I have struggled with the idea of multiple sex partners. I have always steadfastly maintained that I was a one man woman. One. Man. Just one.

As a result of that steadfast belief, I have spent the bulk of the last two years in celebatory solitude. I’ve dated a lot, but slept with almost no one. I’m tired of that. I’m giving my heart a rest this year, but my libido has spring fever. It’s tired of resting.

And therein lies the dilemma. Can I exercise my libido and rest my heart at the same time? Can I extricate the physical expression of love from the emotional one?

The weekend looms and any or all of the three could ask for my company this weekend. Any or all of the three could be sexual encounters. Even my non sexual suitor gets an erection when I kiss him, I just can’t seem to get him to do anything with it. I’m trying to figure out how I feel about the potential for sex with three different men in one weekend.

Can a 47 year old woman be a “loose” woman, or am I simply too old for that descriptive? Surely a woman my age, the mother of teenagers, does not have to worry about her “reputation”, does not have to concern herself that she is becoming a “slut” because those are terms of youth, not modern maturity. And what about my morals? Are multiple sexual partners amoral? Is sex with anyone you don’t love amoral? What is amoral?

I have always thought amoral meant without morals. I certainly have morals. I have three of them. I don’t sleep with people I work with. I don’t sleep with committed men and I don’t sleep with women. Beyond that, I haven’t given it much thought. I suppose that through the course of my life, a moral of monogamy has certainly applied, but it was unconscious, it simply was a part of my pattern of loving. If I love someone, I don’t desire anyone else. Period, end of story.

But, I’m not in love with anyone right now, at least I keep telling myself that. I won’t allow myself that luxury, nor risk a skinned heart. I’m taking 2006 off. Does that mean I can’t have sex?

I am doing my best to take a more manly approach.

In the thundering silence of my meditations by the fish pond, the water fall crescendos the mourning dove. The bumble bee sips the nectar of the bell flowers and the blood of my vibrant soul struggles to reconcile want and need.

I want.

I need.

Can it really be that simple?