Tomb

It was a self-imposed dry season; it was introspective; it was horrible. My mind’s figurative sex guru prescribed a detox and I just happened to come upon a book by the same name. I decide to partake in a sex-fast laid out by Ian Kerner, a sex and relationship counsellor, in his vibrant, pink-covered book, Sex Detox. No sex, no dating, no seeking out dates, no online or offline searching, no chatting — nothing remotely related to dating — for 30 days. My initial thought: I’m screwed. Well, maybe not. For sure not.

The stated premise of the book is simple: “When it comes to sex and relationships, sometimes we get in too deep that the only way out is to start over again.” Kerner promises that his program will reset, rewire and rejuvenate my love life. I wasn’t dissatisfied with my love life, however, it was getting a bit confusing and busy. Drastic times call for drastic measures. Damn, no more booty calls.

For 30 days, I commit to 30 minutes of uninterrupted meditation time each day regarding thoughts and behaviours around my sexuality. It’s broken down into six five-day modules with a few pages to read and exercises to add to a detox diary. It’s suitable for both single guys and gals who may be too sexy, or addicted to the dating scene and the high that it brings, as well as those who have been in a relationship for a while and the sex is dwindling and totally unexciting. The program is meant to throw cold water on sexy singles and heat up the not-so-sexy couples.

Thoughts on Day 1 when trying to breathe and meditate: I wonder if I can masturbate on this program? Kerner emails me back announcing that loving myself is perfectly acceptable while on the program. Hallelujah for small mercies.

Not such a relief are the exercises requiring me to delve into the past: my parents’ relationship, or lack thereof — no communication, silence filling the room, eventually bitterness and resentment. Now I know why I am hypervigilant about requiring communication from my lovers. The mystery of me pining for more romantic platitudes is pretty much solved.

The mystery itself may be solved, but the yearning for these things is still achy, palpable, leaving me in a fragile mass of not-so-blissful flesh and bone. The program is flushing out some of the figurative sticky sexual residue left by the ghosts of my sexual past.

Week One requires me to download my thoughts, memories and experiences of past relationships and expectations (ugh), then fill out a checklist of pros and cons of certain aspects, such as my early (mis)conceptions of sexuality and the links to my current dating habits. I have to separate my fantasies from the realities.

My ego-driven mind kicks in during Week Two. “I already know this. I don’t have to do the detox diary. Why continue?”

My ass gets kicked again as the tally of behaviours that hurt me versus help me turns out to be a shockingly bad ratio of 8 to 4. On a daily basis I used to do things like check my messages too many times during work hours for booty calls, flirt with unwitting folks as I walked by, text my lover even though we are “taking a break.” These behaviours were not helping.

The book is intense if you take it seriously. It would be easy to stop halfway, say “Fuck it,” and go back to my old ways.

Kerner asks many in-your-face questions. What is the number of dates you’ve had in the last six months? If you can’t recall, you are overdating. Are they blurring together, can you remember your dates’ names, how many of the no-ways did you screw? Are you starting to mix up details? I text message Sally, asking her about the softball game when it was actually Suzie who plays softball. Sally’s sport is drinking martinis. Oops.

The book suggests expanding my dating circle to increase the quality of dates; not choosing dates with work colleagues, online, at bars or at parties with the same people you always go out with. I’m to think of 10 new ways to meet people who have similar interests. Go to a whisky tasting, start or join some group you enjoy, volunteer, go to a different gym, go to a gallery or museum. I’m to be creative to shake up my personal dating vibration. I’m getting the message that it’s all in the intention and implementation, otherwise nothing changes.

“Sure, it’s all well and good to leave ourselves open to change and possibility. But c’mon. You can’t manufacture being hot for someone,” Kerner advises in Week 3.“Think about what it is about someone that turns us on, at a gut level.” Fantastic, it sounds as if I can start being sexy again with fun-and-willing folks. Not so fast. A particularly interesting exercise results in me saying out loud several times: “What the fuck was I thinking?”

I list the top three, wicked, seemingly wonderful crushes in my life. All of them had things in common: they were strong, quirky, had great eyes and… were either unavailable or not interested. Many of the folks I had a crush on or dated were not interested! This revelation freaked me out and left me wondering about my sanity. I have to make up my mind, according to Kerner, and release myself of my redundant patterns. So, I ask myself: Am I dating to find new sexual partners? Because I enjoy meeting new people? Or am I keen on finding a prospective long-term mate? The problem I have with the book is the idea of a long-term mate being the prize and the expectation to find one mate for all eternity. The book does not make assumptions about gender in any way. Date whomever turns you on, it says, but it does assume that we all shack up with one person.

On Day 29, I fill out a questionnaire that places me in the category of ready for a long-term relationship.

The verdict is still out for me, but I am ready to create a “healthier” love life with fewer expectations, a few more boundaries and a lot more reality. These exercises had kicked my butt, my mind, and my vagina into a more conscious state of thought and feeling and, hopefully, more conscious behaviour while dating and navigating my lover(s). Damn, and I was having such an orgasmic time, having sex without consciousness. No, I don’t think it was that bad. Although denial is powerful.

I’m looking forward to my rejuvenated thought processes and “dating inside out,” or consciously dating, implementing all of the new patterns. Kerner suggests having 10 first dates, keeping it light and fun, without expectation of sex, another date or some impact on the rest of my life. And smarty-pants Kerner reminds me with his knowing questions: “Time to tell the truth; Have you fallen back into old habits? Perhaps just a little? The constant checking of email for winks and blinks?” Hell no, I proclaim. It’s time to do an email and text message detox, I guess. Oh, and Kerner vehemently prescribes, “no exes.” Shit. I’m doomed. Not another detox! I should write the book: No Texts and No Ex.