So one of the announcements I've been sitting on is that the amazingly prolific and talented Rachel Kramer Bussel and I have teamed up to launch In The Flesh: L.A. For those of you who don't know, Rachel launched a monthly reading series in New York called In The Flesh that features incredible writers reading things they wrote about sex. About a month ago I approached her about launching a West coast version, put out some feelers to some readers, and before I knew it, all systems were go. All the details are on the In The Flesh: L.A. site. You'll have to wait for the reader list, though. But I'll tell ya, it's shaping up to be pretty damn cool. I don't tend to geek out about movie stars or musicians (except Madonna, of course), but my writer heroes? On the exterior, I'm cool as a cucumber. On the interior? I'm begging them to sign my bare breasts with a Sharpie. Let's just say I'm preparing to keep my inner flasher under wraps.
Last but certainly not least, here's the third and final chapter of the Finland story (here's part one and two!)
* * *
The next morning I knew that Joe had taken Karen to bed. Certainly she'd told me - not having known the flirtation he and I had shared - but her actions said more than her words did. Suddenly, she wasn't sitting with us anymore, she would always sit with him - for breakfast, on the bus, on the plane ride back to Helsinki... and she wasn't being as loud and boisterous as she'd been in the past. It was like watching what had happened to me a few years prior, except with Karen playing the part of me and Joe playing the part of Martin.
Old Me was jealous. Old Me wanted to scream and cry about being passed over for someone else, even though it was me who decided I didn't want any part of that. But Old Me didn't care. Old Me was so used to playing that game that letting go of it was harder than New Me wanted to admit. It took a nap and a few more bouts in the sauna back at Hotel Glo to not only admit those feelings to myself, but to address them and let them go. I knew I wasn't ever going to be ready for the next chapter if I didn't finish this one off first.
Our last dinner was at an Italian restaurant. Thoroughly over Finnish fare, Kelly had decided that one more night of potatoes and reindeer would cause a revolt and made reservations at a nearby spot that let us take over an entire room in the basement so we wouldn't annoy other diners. There was one long table punctuated with a smaller round one to the side, which was quickly dubbed The Kid's Table. Naturally this is where I sat with Colleen, Karen and Elisa, Peter, and one of their co-workers.
We started with our idle chit chat, but as the wine flowed, our conversations got deeper and more personal. Elisa and Colleen connected over family issues, and Karen and I connected over our issues surrounding relationships, love and sex. We were so in tune, in fact, that she reached the point where she couldn't talk anymore, but I could... and she related so much to what I was saying that she left the table several times to compose herself. It was then that I realized that while Old Me was jealous of her because she got to sleep with Joe, New Me recognized the reason why she did was because she was exactly where I was when I'd had my dalliance with Martin. There was something in those moments of talking where she and I realized we were one in the same, just a few years apart.
It was then that we looked up and noticed the five of us were the last ones left in the restaurant - the co-worker had left us long ago as we were deep in the inner workings of each other's brains. Peter didn't want to contribute, feeling it best to keep his private life private.
"I respect your right to privacy, but do you know that by depriving other people of your stories, you're also depriving them of the opportunity to learn how to be happy from your examples?" I said to him.
"I never thought of it that way," he said, and percolated on it as the five of us walked back to the hotel, then promptly took over several tables on the street patio as we ordered a couple more bottles of wine. But I wasn't done asking questions - I wanted to know more. So I gave Peter my caveat - to which he said, "If I feel you're getting too probing, I'll just leave." - and told him a story about my ex-boyfriend, Campbell. I told him how Campbell rarely, if ever, told me he loved me, and how I felt unloved as a result. But by the same token, when I was in love I wanted to shout it from the rooftops and share it with everyone I knew, because something that beautiful and wonderful shouldn't be kept to myself. And I didn't understand why some people wanted to keep love secret. But I wanted to know.
And Peter said, "I've had enough." And he left.
It appeared I'd hit a nerve.
He returned a while later, and finally assimilated back into our group. I decided not to push things further. Besides, I was having fun chatting with Colleen, Karen and Elisa about how we were going to plan an all girl's trip someday soon. But when we got kicked off the patio after last call and hiked up to Elisa's room to continue the festivities, I took the opportunity to pull Peter aside and apologize for making him feel uncomfortable.
"It's just that I suspect that you've had more experience in this than I've had, and I want to learn," I explained.
"I know that - it's just that I'm a very private person," he said.
I nodded.
"But if there's some advice I can give you, it's that you should marry your best friend. I married my best friend, and I'm so very happy that I did that. And another thing - sex isn't everything. You can marry your best friend and not have sex be the center of your universe."
I thanked Peter for his insight and digested what he said. I agreed with his missive about being best friends with your significant other - I'd certainly done that in the past. But his feelings about sex concerned me. I'd been in relationships where sex had been the central theme, and I'd been in relationships where it had been nonexistent. Hell, I'd even been in relationships where it started out being the end all, be all and then completely vanished. And the one thing I'd learned from all of those experiences was that there had to be a middle ground somewhere in there - where sex was plentiful, but not the center of everything. Where I could maintain a loving, spiritual and physical connection with the man I chose to love, but also maintain an independence and an ability to say no on the nights I needed to, or that he needed to, without pain and consequence. I had to believe not only that it was possible, but that it was out there for me. There was no reason why it couldn't be.
The next morning, the half of us that hadn't left on the earlier flight hopped on the bus to go to the airport. Colleen and I flew business class again, Karen and Elisa disappeared to the back of the plane... we hoped to see again sometime soon. I'd come to adore them, and from what I could tell, they felt the same about Colleen and I as well. Something told me our story - and the opportunity to learn from them - wasn't over.
On the plane ride home I'd gotten enveloped in finishing The Red Book by Sera Beak. Earlier in the book she'd mentioned a ritual she'd performed while vacationing with a friend, where she decided to marry herself and recited vows that solidified a commitment to herself. I thought it sounded perfect for me considering my past, my present, my future. But in the madness of everything that had gone on in Finland, I couldn't quite find the time I needed to properly dedicate myself to the event. I'd debated doing it when I got home, but something about that didn't feel very special.
I decided that maybe, in keeping with my journey, it would be best to save it for my next trip: Porta Del Sol, Puerto Rico. I wanted to commit to myself on white sand beaches with crystal clear blue water, with incredible sightseeing opportunities like kayaking through the illuminated waters of a bioluminescent bay.
But most of all, I wanted to commit to myself alone.
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