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When sex is no longer sexy

I would sure like to have a crystal ball that gives me insight into people’s brains, into our dreams, my dreams. Wouldn’t it save us tons of money on doctors, therapists, and meds if we could understand earlier on in the journey who we are and what makes us tick?

What is it with recurrent dreams? What is the point of rehearsing in our head a chapter of our lives that will forever remain inconclusive no matter how many endings we dream to that old story? It is not like we can change its outcome by our subconscious playing out different scenarios on different nights. And yet, the brain regurgitates that same chain of events over and over. To what end? There has to be a point to so much time of our lives consumed by an alternate reality where things pan out differently to what actually took place; where we are offered a glimmer of hope that those chapters of our lives we resent, do not define us, because there is still a chance to act differently, to explore new choices.

My most recurrent dream is one where I enter into a sexually charged relationship with an ex-boyfriend with whom I never even held hands or kissed. We were extremely attracted to each other. That is what brought us together in the first place. The chemistry was tangible, but we were a couple of very shy and inexperienced youngsters, not ready to handle what would have unfolded, had we let our passions run free. Unfortunately, we lived in different cities during the winter, and so our only form of contact was the occasional meet up and frequent letters, which did not help matters. Eventually, our determination to make it work dimmed and what initially was countless promising sparks between us grew into dynamite threatening to explode with every exchange. Frustrated and heartbroken I broke it off in the end, because I could not bear him flirting with other girls in front of me in an attempt to ignite my desire so I would be the one to take that first step. He went on to meet another older more experienced woman who clearly initiated him into the wonders of sex within a loving committed relationship. Indeed, he married her and lived happily ever after or so I hear. I am not saying sex cannot be fantastic outside a relationship. I am just saying personally, I reach worthier heights when the connection is both spiritual and physical, when the souls as well as the bodies are harmoniously intertwined. Sex for the sake of sex is as exciting to me as drinking water when I am thirsty, frankly. We met up many years later and though we were both married with kids by then, one brief but intense interlocking of our eyes is all it took for me to know he wondered as much as I did what if we had both behaved differently. I deeply believe in spiritual connection and I am no clairvoyant, but I am pretty certain I appear in his dreams as often as he in mine.

That was back in the 80s when sex was still a ‘sacred thing’ a special ritual that happened between people who felt an inexplicable bond, an unstoppable urge to fuse into one; to be one and the same, if only for a few exceptional moments. These days, sex is all around us, is forced upon us; trading in sex has even become a widely accepted profession for so many. It is no longer a case of I resort to prostitution because I cannot make ends meet any other way, because I cannot sustain myself and those dependent on me any other way. Sex sells and it is easy to shop for it and make considerable money from it pretty effortlessly and quickly. Unfortunately though, it is not just pushed on to those who want to consume it or buy it, but forced on us wherever we look, wherever we are. This is particularly apparent in the entertainment industry and social media. It is not longer a question of personal choice but of forcefulness, of manipulating the herd into certain behavioural patterns and morals or lack of; normalizing even amongst our youngest what should be something special and wonderful in its uniqueness.

I missed the ‘sanctity’ that used to go hand in hand with the process of meeting someone and falling in love, or maybe just discovering each other emotionally, intellectually, and physically. Now it is all so void of any romance, any mystery, any longevity, in essence of any meaning. We trade partners like we change socks and values like trust, respect, humility, gentleness, kindness, honesty have all become dinosaurs too frightened to rear their heads in a world moving so fast, consuming it all so fast, even each other, that one wonders what humanity will do next to satisfy its ravenous appetite for indulgence and self satisfaction.

Is there anything sacred any more?
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Leaping into the unknown

My heart leaps at the unmistakable sound of your presence in my inbox. I stare at my phone screen in perpetual disappointment as I realise it is just another email about one more Amazon purchase by the kids. I take the dog for a walk and let the gentle chords of my ‘Hot Acoustic’ playlist transport my mind out of my hopeless impatience, but the phone is playing games with my head once again. I hear the little sound, the eagerly awaited sound that enthuses my spirit at the thought of it being you, letting me know that you remember I exist; that you care and fear for the precipice I find myself standing on the edge of; that you are grateful for my words, my thoughts, my prayers at the news of your own precipice; that you are fully conscious of the fact that thousands of miles cannot keep us apart because I now carry you in my heart and you walk with mine.

I place my phone back in my pocket, disheartened, disillusioned at my own naivety for thinking that I would rate that high on your list of priorities; rank that privileged a position in your affections.  Did I read your words right or was it wishful thinking? Did our souls supernaturally connect and instantly fuse like timber and flame? Did you sense it too, that familiarity of total strangers as if we had shared a lifetime in a different life?

Words are like missiles that perforate the heart irreparably, beyond recognition. The moment they hit you, everything changes and no matter how one tries to retain the old self, it is not there. The metamorphosis has taken place. It is impossible to pick up where you left off because that person has vanished, gone up in the smoke of impact between two souls that though foreign to each other, have entered a perfect dance of seamless intuition, empathy and telepathy. The harmony is such; the comfort in each other’s presence so undeniable, it proves impossible to let go even when the music stops playing. I hang on for dear life, because I know this encounter is extraordinary, perhaps unique. If I cannot hold on to you, let me at least hold on to the memory of you; to your spirit which is more present within me than the words you wrote to me.

I am struggling to get on with my daily grind because I am addicted to that dance; that harmonious exchange of non-judgemental, undiluted goodness and understanding. It is so rare to find a person today with enough humility that all they see is the good in you; they only see the intention, never the mistake. There is such purity, such integrity in a heart like that, hardly seen these dark days of social media frenzy and perpetual witch-hunts. Is it possible to trust someone you barely know more fully than someone you have known most of your life? What is there in that dimension we do not see that can feel so much more real than the things and the people we can hear, see and touch? Is it an illusion of the needy mind or a golden snippet of what we are capable of when we believe there is more to life than this?

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Love is a losing game

It is pouring down outside. Autumn is properly on its way and I feel the exuberance and zest of summer-living gently easing off and giving way to melancholy, days of endless reflection and dampness in the air; lazy afternoons of cosy cuddling up to myself in front of a warm fire binge watching my favourite series of the moment. I love the contrast in the seasons. Spring is without a doubt my favourite season, but I also love and nurture the symbolic meaning which transpires into our daily living carried by each of the other seasons too. I love how the smell of the air we breathe changes as we move from one time of the year to another; I welcome with anticipation how my soul is predisposed to feel differently as the sun no longer dominates the days, and heavy downpours and windy days take its place. Today is the perfect day to listen to one of my favourite artists: Amy Winehouse and one of my favourite songs of hers: ‘Love is a losing game’. Here are the lyrics:

For you I was the flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is losing game

One I wished, I never played
Oh, what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game

Played out by the band
Love is a losing hand
More than I could stand
Love is a losing hand

Self-professed profound
Till the chips were down
Know you’re a gambling man
Love is a losing hand

Though I battled blind
Love is a fate resigned
Memories mar my mind
Love is a fate resigned

Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game

Every time I hear the first chords of this song, I have to stop whatever I am doing. It’s like a familiar, gratifying voice; like an alter ego or an older me counselling my inexperienced self, a blessed invisible friend gently whispering: ‘I told you so’. I have often wondered what it is about this particular piece that touches me so. Love certainly is the most complex of emotions, and yet the one we crave the most, like manna in the desert. I guess I relate on a very deep level with the honesty in the song; the candid message; the acceptance of inevitability as we embark on a relationship; the inevitability of disappointment, unimaginable hurt and emptiness. And yet, and even though we know the odds and how much we stand to lose; how acute the pain can feel, we still choose the losing hand time and time and time again. Why? Oh why?

Well, I clearly don’t have the answer but I think the message in the lyrics of another one of my favourite songs by Rebecca Ferguson ‘Nothing’s Real but love’ may have something to do with it.

Standing in a line
Wonder why it don’t move
Tryna get a hand
Watching people break the rules
And maybe the man in charge
Doesn’t like my face
But then this world’s not always good

And nothing’s real but love
Nothing’s real but love
No money, no house, no car,
Can beat love

They watch us open-mouthed
As we joke around like fools
See who can be the worst
Watch what I can do
But then the door gets slammed,
Slammed right in my face
And I guess this world’s not always good

And nothing’s real but love
Nothing’s real but love
No house, no car, no job
Can beat love

It won’t fill you up
No money, no house, no car
Is like loveLa la la la la la la la
YeaaahI put it all away
Holding it back for a rainy day
But what if that day don’t come
I need loveNo money, no house, no car
Is like love

It don’t fill you up
It won’t build you up
It won’t fill you up
It’s not love!And nothing’s real but love
No money, no house, no car
Is like love

Nothing’s real but love

No money, no house, no car
Is like love

As I continue to try and figure out why to love and wanting to be loved is hands down a human’s deepest need and at the core of our being even though it is also the emotion that can destroy us from the inside out; it is the one experience that makes us feel so real, so complete, but also so broken and defeated, I hold on for dear life to what I know for sure: I love my dog and my dog loves me, and that’s good enough for now.

Brexit day has come and gone but the betrayal for Europeans in UK will forever remain a ‘thorn in our flesh’

A thorn in our flesh

So the UK has finally left the European Union; Brexit day has come and gone and as my sister whatsapped me the other day: ‘The world has not come to an end, has it?’. Easy for her to say, though! She has not spent the last 28 years of her life giving her all to a country that’s not hers, a people with whom she does not share a culture, a history, a ‘DNA’. I am that person who has given the second half of her life to another nation. I don’t do things in halves, so when I say ‘given’ I mean that. I came over to the UK from Spain in the early 90s as an Erasmus student, married a Brit, had two children who now have double nationality; I have studied, served in the community, worked and paid taxes, and continue to do so after almost 30 years. Many don’t seem to get the outrage of so many Europeans like myself who have lived in the UK for more than half a life, and have suddenly become the family member who has overstayed their welcome at the party or rather, discovered they were never considered part of the family in the first place and must now be granted permission for such privilege.

So for those who still don’t get our shock and outrage, let me make it a bit more relatable for you. Just imagine being in a romantic relationship to which you have committed fully and sacrificed everything for, and after 30 years, finding out that in order to be allowed to remain in that relationship, you need to be granted a permit or else you are out, just like that! It is not what you have done. It is not the punishment to a crime you have committed or your partner seeking justice for an offence you’ve caused him/her. It is not because of what you have done, but rather because of who you are. A bit like someone saying to you after 30 years: ‘Thank you for all the years and everything you have given me, but I no longer love or want you, so if you want to remain in our relationship you need to beg me to let you stay. If you do, you can stay but only if you continue providing for me, sacrificing for me and always understanding that our relationship was never based on mutual love and appreciation, but self-gain on my part. It was your foolish mistake to believe otherwise!’.

All that love, all that sacrifice, the commitment, the loyalty, the investment, the faith, all thrown back at you as meaningless, worthless, non-existent. If you have ever been at the receiving end of betrayal or unfaithfulness, you will know the pain, gut-wrenching agony, anxiety and damage that being treated like that causes. It is a wound that never heals. Life as you have always known it, robbed from right under your feet. Your only mistake: to have put your unconditional love and trust, your whole being into a person/country that did not deserve it in the first place.

Let me tell you. I fully respect the reasons behind the majority of people who voted for Brexit. I truly do. I get it. What I don’t get is why all Europeans who have been living and working here for so many years have not been automatically granted settled status without having to go through the undignified process of being treated like an ‘alien’, a persona non grata, a leech; in essence, overnight we have been turned into targets of hate and abuse. Yes, Brexit day has come and gone, but the effects of what this process has done and will do to individuals like myself is only just beginning.

I am worried for the UK. I truly am! When I first came to this country, it was love at first sight. The openness, the cosmopolitan feel of the place, the tolerance, the freedom, the eagerness to learn and benefit from other cultures, the contagious positive forward-looking energy, the hunger for equality, progress, unity amongst akin nations to collaborate and face global problems as a unit rather than alone. In my eyes and in my heart, there was no other country on earth as beautiful inside and out and well put together as the UK. Despite the heartache of leaving all my family behind, my homeland, my culture, everything I knew to that point, I could fathom no other place I would rather live in than the UK.

That has all changed now! If you are a Brit and you are sitting there in judgement of my attitude, please put yourself in my shoes and imagine being at the receiving end of such betrayal. My love has turned sour. Unrequited love has never been an attractive prospect for anyone. I can understand that not everyone you love can or has to love you back, but what I will not put up with is the ‘we will love you and look after you so long as you continue to put money in the pot, to be profitable for us’. I don’t know about you, but when it comes to ‘love’ relationships, I like the ‘not having to pay for it’ kind of love. In essence, for me, being allowed to stay in the UK should have flown naturally and seamlessly after Brexit, after half a life of sacrifice and devotion. When mutual love has a price, it ceases to be love and becomes a business transaction. Thanks but no thanks!