Transcending sex.

My ex-boyfriend is a psychologist. I met him five days before my twenty-third birthday; he was nearly thirty-eight. The perpetual teacher, he enjoyed showering me with maxims and pearls of wisdom. The insatiable student, I earnestly listened to and believed whatever it is he told me. Our first date was on January 12, 2002. We went to the local lesbian coffee shop, where he taught me about certain cognitive illusions. We proceeded from there to the bar across the street where I was carded and he was not. We then retired to his apartment for white russians. While standing in the kitchen of his Somerville apartment, he told me two things -- two gems -- that I always remembered.

(1) In a relationship, maintaing open lines of communication is imperative. He used the following analogy: "Say there's a piece of shit lying on the living room floor," he said. "You can walk over it. and ignore it. But even if you step over it every day, you can't get around the fact that there's a huge turd on your living room floor."

(2) "Sex is important," he stated. "If the sex is good and everyone is happy, then the sex part makes up about ten percent of the relationship. But if there are problems with sex, or if one party is unsatisfied, then the sex aspect makes up nintey percent of the relationship." The fact that we then proceeded to have god-awful sex that night should have tipped me off regarding the future of our relationship.

When I told Mike about the ex-boyfriend's words of wisdom, what was his reply? "So your relationship with him was pretty much like a big piece of shit that took up ninety percent of your living room."

And you know what? Mike was right. I spent three years with a psychologist (a psychologist!) who was incapable of communicating and wouldn't put out. And by "wouldn't put out," I mean that we spent seven months without sex. Not only did we not have sex in seven months, but we had no physical contact at all. Not even a hug. At the conclusion of those seven months, we had sex once before the no-touching-at-all status quo continued for another four months. The ridiculous part in all of this? I never cheated on him. I felt miserable -- like the one person who was supposed to find me attractive didn't. I gained an insane amount of weight. I felt disgustingly ugly. But I stayed with this man because I figured that I could transcend a sexual relationship. I actually told myself that I was better, that I was above needing sex.

Since that relationship, I've never apologized for the fact that good -- even great -- sex is an essential component in any romantic relationship I would allow myself to be in. So many people I know fall in love and get married, have the life we're all supposed to want -- wife, kids, mortgage -- and stop having sex. I don't get it. I don't understand it. The moment my partner becomes sexually disinterested in me is the moment I leave the partnership.

Don't get me wrong. Sex isn't everything in a relationship. But it is important. And so I unapologetically maintain that I am finished. I will never again make the mistake of attempting to transcend sex.