“Let me call you back,” I said to one of my best friends (Dirty & Thirty co-founder Stefanie Seifer), as I unexpectedly ran into a gentleman from my past while on the phone with her.
“Who was that?” she asked when I called back 10 minutes later. “An old booty call from my 20′s. He was so dependable. We had sex for about 2 years,” I responded.
After we hung up, I sat there and reminisced about my promiscuous youth. I spent my 20′s looking for myself, and I found myself… Mostly in dudes’ beds. I’ve always been really good at not getting emotionally attached with people I have sex with. This guy was the perfect example of that. He was REALLY hot, sweet, and great in bed. We met in acting class, like most Hollywood relationships (short or long term) usually do. As it happened, we were doing a make out scene the very first day we met, and I jumped at the chance to be his “scene” partner. Our teacher directed him to throw me against the wall aggressively, and I knew in that moment that I had to find a way to reenact that scenario outside of acting class. I did. For 2 years. It was great. He was always there when I needed him, and vice versa. I would drive across the hill to Sherman Oaks (for those who live outside of L.A., that is a HUGE deal) for him, and he drove the same ridiculous distance for me. I once rushed my best friend out of a Macy’s Labor Day sale with a truckload of new bedding that we had to schlepp across the entire mall, so that I could make a 5:30 pm “appointment.” Ahhh, my 20′s…
Cut to: Halfway through 30…
Contrary to what Daft Punk and Pharrell did this Summer, I did NOT stay up all night OR get lucky. In fact, I experienced the longest sexual drought I’ve had since… Probably ever. (I stopped counting at about 67 days.)
It turns out nobody feels sorry for you in this instance. “You’re a girl! You can get laid whenever you want!” I heard, over and over. True. But anyone can. It doesn’t mean that it’s going to be fulfilling. I’ve been there and done that. I’m looking for quality, not quantity. This was probably one of the first years in a VERY long time where everyone I slept with, I actually cared about, and it was a good feeling. Unfortunately, things did not work out for me, so I decided to put on the chastity belt and focus my energy elsewhere, like pizza. (Yes, I actually passed up sex with a very cute and sweet guy who I went out with a few times for leftover pizza. Hashtag: rock bottom.)
Summer came (I did not) and then, one day, a guy I met years ago reappeared. We finally had the date we were supposed to have almost 3 years ago, and against my better judgement, we had some of the best sex of my entire life. I realized the next day that sex suits me. I’m so much happier after I’ve had it. When you don’t have it for a while, you forget what all the fuss is about, then sometimes the stars align and IT. IS. AMAZING. According to my friends, I’ve used the phrase “Best Sex of My Life” on countless occasions. Maybe I’m the girl who cried orgasm, but I think the “Best Sex of My Life” at 30 counts more than at any other age. Fingers crossed.