Love Sick

I am in New York (my favorite city in the world) for two glorious weeks to get away from the Los Angeles quagmire in which I find myself. Everything seemed to be stuck like the traffic on the 405 at rush hour; my acting career, my love life, my finances, all ground to a slow and aching halt over the past year in the City of Angels. What better way to rejuvenate the soul, mind and body than a few weeks in good ol' NYC? Don't get me wrong, I'd rather be sitting on a beach somewhere drinking coconutty, rummy drinks out of a pineapple in a bikini but hey, this is what I got. I still have access to my two bedroom in the East Village and a couple weeks is better than nothin'. Any self respecting New Yorker who's spent time away from the Big Apple knows that in order to get one's head back together, like the prodigal son, one must return to the land in which their dreams first hatched. My land is 9th street and 1st Avenue.

Upon my return I knew that my libido was in need of some serious CPR. After my last attempt at love where I didn't give up the goods and the guy still ran for the hills, I decided that I would be "in the moment." If the spirit moved me, if it felt good and right, if there was a real connection and the man was yummy enough, that I wouldn't restrict myself.

Enter yummy man. Shit, that was easy. I love NY! For privacy reasons let's call him Clayton.
We actually had exchanged stories and a very basic knowledge of each other over the internet before our date. And NO, I did not meet him on a dating site. It was strictly professional... at first. Ok, I confess I saw his picture and thought he was cute. Let's just say I was open. For all intents and purposes we dug each other off the bat. We had what can only be described as off the charts chemistry. The physical aspect of the experience was exciting, fun, spontaneous and surprisingly grrrrreat. Tony the Tiger great. The kind of great I haven't seen in a long while. Well, I haven't even seen "gr" in a while so completing that word was very, shall I say, satisfying.

After two consecutive nights together (I told you we dug each other) I noticed my throat kinda hurt and my back felt achy. Then I broke out into a bad fever and stayed up all night sweating through my sheets. Every time I swallowed it felt like I was eating razor blades. Now here's the really sexy part: My hands swelled up, my palms turned bright red and got tiny little bumps all over the back of my fingers . Maybe I was turning into a Super Hero?

Really? This is what I get? The first time I have sex in almost a year? On my only vacation I've had in three years and the only foreseeable one I'm to have in the distant future?

I was flat on my back for the entire weekend, and NOT in the manner I was hoping for. Why me God? Why now? What are you tryin' to say here? It's because I had sex, isn't it? It's because I was a dirty naughty girl and I didn't hold out until I was in a committed relationship. It's because I'm a big Slutty McSlutstien and I get what I deserve. I could hear my mother's voice when I was 12 saying, "Now Shari, sex is a very special act between two adults and can be the most beautiful thing in the world when you TRULY LOVE EACH OTHER." And by that she meant married. Trust me, it's all in the inflection.

What about if you just met and really like each other? Or think each other is very funny, cute and hot? What if they are super charming and smart and have served in the military? Huh? I like to do my part and support our troops! I did it for my count-ry! (Sorry.) I have tried waiting until I was in a monogamous relationship before I had sex and guess what?
NOTHING HAPPENED! For a whole YEAR.

I call my Dr. in LA to see if he has any idea what was wrong with me, physically. He tells me it sounds like an allergic reaction.

"To what?" I ask, "Joy?"

He assures me it's probably just a bad bug and nothing I could have contracted from sexual activity. I was just run down and partying way too much. Why are all fun things bad? Like smoking and fried cheese.

A few days later I felt a lot better after having received an emergency "Z pack" of antibiotics. The bumps went away and I could finally take my rings off my frankfurter fingers. Clayton calls me and I share with him my tale of woe. He's not only adorable, respectful, and sexy, he's also sweet; telling me he feels responsible for my temporary infirmary. I wonder if it's possible that while reviving my libido, my heart got an electrical shock too? It defiantly felt more open. Maybe this is how it happens? Out of the blue when you least expect it. When you're not looking.
Love has been known to do all kinds of crazy physical things: bring people to their knees, make them dizzy, feel like they've been punched in the gut, or shot with cupid's arrow-that must really hurt, right? Why not swollen bumpy hands, a 100 degree fever and a sore throat?

I go on to spend a lot of my time in NY with Clayton. We go to the park, have amazing meals, great conversations. It's easy. The more time I spend with him, the more I like him and the more I feel like I've known him a lot longer than two weeks. It feels as if it's mutual. I so don't want to go back to LA.

I used to think that there's a formula out there that I was just not privy to. One locked away in an ancient palm leaf scroll that Buddha wrote. The truth is there are no rules when it comes to sex and love. It's kinda like the chicken and the egg. Who the hell knows what came first or what's supposed to. Who cares. I'm just grateful for the omelets.