What happened to the teenaged girl who used to look for any excuse to write a love letter and just couldn’t get enough of romantic comedies with über-cheesy endings? The same girl who just could not comprehend how her friends could sleep with someone that they weren’t in love with? I miss her. Somewhere along the way this overly romantic and ever-optimistic-about-love girl grew a great big set of balls and apparently a dick that has made her more of a man than the actual men she dates! Wtf??

I used to love the whole afterglow that followed great sex and that sheer bliss of reveling in the yumminess of the person lying next to me as our bodies lay there sweaty and deliciously spent. Now the moment the sex is over—no matter how great the guy is—I just wanna bolt! I’m the one who turns and says “well that was great, but I have an early day tomorrow so you better go” or the one who slinks out the moment he’s in a deep sleep with nothing more than a peck on the cheek and a quick “I’ll call you” even though I probably won’t. This is not to say at all that I am some major player who is getting a ton of action or anything; my good set of European-made morals stops me from having too much casual sex, but being with my most recent beau has just made me acutely aware of my ‘manliness‘! Do I blame a lack of worthy men or my own deep-seeded commitment phobia that I still deny more often than not?

I recall an early episode of Sex and the City where Carrie decides that she is going to try to “have sex like a man”. It worries me that I am not even trying and yet, somehow, I seem incapable of anything more these days. If I’m not mistaken though; this same episode ended with Carrie meeting Big for the first time as she left the apartment of her conquest. I guess there may be hope for me yet… or atleast a really sexy, commitment phobic male version of myself.