Attraction
When I was 25 years old, I suddenly realized I had no idea what kinds of people I was attracted to. I had been in long-term relationships since I was 14 and hadn’t had to think about my own attractions much. My boyfriends up to that point had been interesting and game, and I didn’t have to consider who I might be attracted to beyond them.
It was a strange thing to be in my mid-twenties and have no clue what I found attractive in another person. I set out to research this in the first way that occurred to me: I bought a copy of People magazine’s 50 most attractive people of the year issue and looked through it. Did I find Denzel Washington attractive? Or Penelope Cruz? They were both objectively good looking, but I had a hard time figuring out how I felt about them.
I started going on dates. A lot of dates.
I didn’t know then what I was looking for, but I now realize it was a combination of sexual chemistry, whether we had anything to talk about, and screening for assholes. It’s surprising how unusual it is to find someone with chemistry, good conversation, and who is not an asshole. I held out. I went on a lot of first dates and a handful of second dates.
My mom said I needed to give my dates more of a chance. I disagreed.
At that point, I was focusing on dating men. I knew I was attracted to men in general, so that seemed like a good place to start. There were some nice guys, but no real sparks.
Then Sarah showed up.
I was so drawn to her, but it was confusing. She was married and we were working together. She was out as bisexual, but in a committed monogamous relationship. I yearned for her to touch me—in any way. Once I was sitting on a bed and she put a hand on my ankle and I felt an electric current go through me.
We traveled together and shared a lot of beds, but it was always chaste. Very Victorian.
I was in my late 20s and in love with a married woman. It was the best and worst of times. I wasn’t completely clueless—I knew what this was. I recontextualized some of my previous intense friendships with women, recognizing that they were attraction. I came out as bisexual (I now prefer queer).
And then Noah showed up. We also worked together and had that kind of electric connection, but it was different. Noah would use my work and ideas and pass them off as his own. He accused me of draining him and then disappeared after saying he would be there for me. I wondered what his wife would think about him sending me love in text messages. (I was not surprised when they later divorced.)
There was one night when I was out to dinner with both Sarah and Noah. The sexual tension at that table was unreal. Eventually, Sarah said she had to leave. She kissed me on the forehead and told me to take care of myself before she walked out of the restaurant. That was the last time I saw her.
There was a fourth person at that table that night, incredibly. Lauren.
Lauren was different from Sarah and Noah in ways that I could sense immediately. She wasn’t married, for one. But she was also warm and generous, making space for everyone. I knew I wanted to spend more time with her.
As Lauren, Noah, and I were leaving the restaurant, Noah tried to convince me to stay the night. He was staying at Lauren’s house in Portland (a converted church!) and he wanted me there.
I knew that if I stayed, we would cross a line. I said no.
I told Lauren that I was sorry I wouldn’t get to see her house. She smiled at me and said, “That’s okay. You will.”
(I did. A few months later, I fucked her in that house. Afterward I said, “I always wanted to have sex in a church.” She laughed and said, “Everybody says that.”)
I was moony over Lauren, but she knew we wouldn’t work as a couple. She said the sex had been fun, and asked if we could be friends. We still are.
As the kids now say, I fucked around and found out. I knew what I was looking for, and I was willing to wait until I found it.