Shuffling Off to Buffalo

Right this moment, I’m sitting in a hotel in Buffalo, N.Y., curled up on the plywood-like hotel bed (because, you know, sex education pays a Super 8 level salary, not a Hyatt level). I’m not curled up with lover in post orgasmic bliss, though; I’m curled up with the things that make my life go ’round when I’m on the road—my iPhone, my computer, my wireless broadband card, some crappy hotel coffee, and a change of clothes. Does this sound like what you think of when you hear phrases like “sex educator”, or “sex writer”, or even “kinky queer person”? I didn’t think so.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with my paramour back home.

“Do you miss me?”

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

“Do you miss me, or my cunt?”

“Well, I miss all of you.”

“But especially my cunt?”

“Yeah—it’s like crack. The first time, it’s free, but I have to keep comin’ back for more.”

In my world, this is what love sounds like. It sounds like the little phone conversations, emails, texts, and twitter messages that I get from my nearest & dearest. I love the laughter, the moments of connection that I get when I can’t get any closer to them than the end of a wireless connection. I love getting the electronic equivalent of love notes when I check my email or sign onto my chat programs.

I couldn’t live like this forever. At some point, even the healthiest relationship suffers if it doesn’t get nurtured by some one-on-one time; I’ve had a few partnerships end simply because my needs and schedule changed too much. I don’t know how military partners handle this—at least I know that I’ll see my local sweeties next week, and that no matter what I’ll see my long distance dating partner in October when work takes me into his area. Knowing that is what keeps me upbeat, and what gives me something to remember on the nights where I’m alone.

You know what? I’ve really learned to treasure the moments to myself. Like the parent of toddlers when they finally get them to sleep, I feel like this is time that I can use to get my work done and nurture myself in ways that just aren’t that possible when I’m around friends and lovers. Quality article writing & editing time without having to stop to answer questions; replying to event coordinators & making reservations to travel to teaching gigs; writing up new classes and marketing them out to stores & organizations…all get done a lot faster (even if it’s not as much fun) when I’m all on my own for a day or three.

I think to myself: Next year, I’ll be home more. I have things to do there. The lawn won’t landscape itself, and I really do miss my cats (even if their favorite hobbies are shedding, sitting on my bed when I’m trying to have sex, and begging for food). Next year, this will look different. And I know that it will—I’m not sure how yet, but as time goes by, I get better at figuring out how to do all this work and find a better balance in my life.

In the meantime, I have what I have—and it’s pretty damn good. Last night, as I was about to give up and go to sleep, I got a phone call from that out-of-town guy.

“Hey! You’re just in time, I was about to go to sleep.”

“Aw, poor girl. Are you sleepy?”

“Yes…but I’ll stay awake and talk to you…”