The Things I’ll Say to a New Lover the Morning After

Imagining my sexual authority in action

What will I say to you, future lover, about tomorrow? Did we talk about this beforehand? I’ve tried that. And I’ve tried jumping straight into bed. I can’t say that either path was particularly successful, so who knows what I’ll do when we meet.

If you want to talk, great, let’s talk. The old “What does this mean?” conversation. The “Will this experience change things for us?” talk.

I don’t really care, one way or the other. I don’t have any expectation that you will call me tomorrow. Or that I will ever see you again. Part of this is past experience. The bar is low, so enjoy that. I’ve learned to expect nothing from a male lover.

But also some of this is just age. It’s too late for me to achieve the “young housewife and mother” dream. Without that guiding me, I feel like I can just enjoy sex. I can try new things with new lovers without trying to fit everything into a box.

We can have fun together. And maybe there are some feelings — certainly an attraction. Maybe feelings of friendship or even some form of love? (That would be nice.) We can enjoy ourselves and these feelings and whatever comes of it. Tonight.

I don’t need to talk about it ahead of time.

But you see, I’ve done that before. You might even say it’s easy because of that. It wouldn’t be a stretch out of my comfort zone to take a chance on a male lover. I can be optimistic while still maintaining a pretty solid level of cynicism. I’ll expect to never hear from you again, and just make sure I have a really good time tonight. And if things go better — we continue talking, maybe we meet again, maybe our relationship continues to evolve over time into…whatever — then all the better.

But what will I say to you tomorrow? Assuming you’re still here.

That, future lover, is unknown territory for me.

I like to be clear about things. Honest. Up-front.

I don’t want anyone to feel hurt because I wasn’t transparent about my intentions. I don’t want there to be needless misunderstandings.

So when I have sex with someone — even if I leapt over the talks in the beginning and went straight to bed — I still feel like it’s important to share…I don’t know…something.

If I wanted a hookup — a non-negotiable one-time deal — that, I would share right away, before the clothes come off. That’s only fair.

But if I’m open to further explorations, surely, that should be a “morning after topic,” right?

I would want to be upfront about everything, because again, I believe in transparency and have had so little of that in relationships.

But what would I say?

I’ve thought about this so many times. This is new territory for me. Not just because I haven’t done it before, but because of something far more revolutionary than that: I now see myself as sexually independent from a partner. I no longer consider myself “tagged” by a lover, belonging to him and needing to bend to his will and desires.

But how do I navigate this new, incredible perspective?

I now see myself as sexually independent from a partner. I no longer consider myself “tagged” by a lover, belonging to him and needing to bend to his will and desires.

I guess I would start with sharing what I want. “I’d love to see you again, if you are open to that.” Sharing the “I like you,” the “I want more of you.” And being specific about that — is this just about sex or is it a bigger package? Do I like being with this person, too, beyond sex?

And if he indicated similar feelings, then what? Do we talk about how we’ll conduct ourselves sexually in the meantime?

At one time, I would have been quick to assure a partner that I would not be sleeping with anyone else — just him. I rarely received a similar promise, nor ever asked for one. I always felt that a man would not be interested in me if I was too sexually independent, and I never expected a man to be exclusive early in a relationship and certainly not when it was fairly obvious that I was only his “pussy du jour.”

It’s a little bit sad for me to look back on that and see how I participated in my own sexual oppression while simultaneously supporting a male partner’s absolute sovereignty over himself — and me.

But now everything that I think to say feels like another imprisonment.

I don’t need to offer an un-requested promise to refrain from engaging with other lovers until I next meet New Lover again. (Even though, knowing me, I probably would not engage with other lovers. It would take just the right circumstances for that to evolve for me and though I’m entirely open to it, I’m not going to go chasing it, either.)

I don’t need to promise him the disclosure of any sexual activity I have with another person during our time apart. (Though again, see above, and also, I probably would do this, because I believe it’s important to share that kind of information, simply for health reasons.)

I certainly don’t need to project months into the future, anymore. Those days are long over. I don’t have to worry if he’ll be there for me, if we’ll end up dating, if we’ll be able to “make an honest situation out of it” (you know, because sex outside of a relationship is supposed to be immoral). Nope, we can just have sex and I’m okay with that.

Because I’m free. And I always was.

What will I say to you, future lover, when the sun comes up?

I always waited for past lovers to show me or tell me what they wanted. And then I’d agree to whatever terms they set out. It wasn’t about me.

But it’s about me, now.

So yes, in the spirit of brazen honesty, I’ll tell you if I like you — and how I like you. (Supine and hard beneath the pyramid of my open legs.)

I’ll try not to take it personally if you only like me for sex. Or don’t like me, at all. It’s hard to say how I’ll react to that. I’m working on the whole rejection thing. In any case, it won’t be a burden to you, as I’ve always hidden my tears from lovers. Trust me, I’ll book it and wait until I’m safe in my own bed to fall into a spiral of self-loathing.

Better yet, I’ll learn not to care at all and just be grateful for the good time that we had.

Oh wait…you do like me? You do want to see me again? But life is complicated. We don’t live in the same town (because I’m not holding out on meeting someone in my alt-right borough). We have jobs and obligations and…

Okay. Hey. I don’t need to book our next date (and/or tumble). Like I said, I’m past that point in life. I’m not excitedly waiting to find Mr. or Ms. Right (nor do I believe in that) and I’m not in any hurry to rush to a “next step” — my only hurry is to fit in more fun and pleasure now that presumably half my life is over.

But I can be patient. Put your phone calendar away.

No? You really want to book something? Well, if you insist…

So between now and then… I’ll tell you that I’m big on sexual transparency, but again, for health reasons. I won’t expect exclusivity, though I wouldn’t object to it, if you brought it up. I’m game for testing out lots of different options.

But yes, I will tell you if I’ve been with anyone else next time because I think that’s fair. Not because I think I owe you some kind of ownership over my body or sexual expression. And yes, I will expect the same, not because you owe me authority over your body or sexual expression.

You might not realize this, especially so early on, but this is pretty big for me. To know that I don’t owe you promises of sexual fidelity, that I don’t have to give you authority over my body. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never experienced this before. It is incredible to finally understand that this body is mine, that I can do what I want with it, and that doing what I want with it doesn’t diminish you or me.

And you know what? I think you’re going to love this about me. I used to be so afraid that a man would walk away if I didn’t perform in just the right way — if I didn’t center myself around his sexual needs and expectations.

But one of these days, I’m going to graduate to a new level of quality when it comes to lovers. Maybe I have already. Maybe you, future lover, are one of those. You’ll like me even more that I insist on my sovereignty. That I see us as equals. That I respect both of our sexual freedom, even if we make the decision (within that space of freedom) to be exclusive.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll say tomorrow morning, but I’ll figure it out. There’s a first time for everything, and today, I know I’m free. Tomorrow, I will be even freer. And you are going to find that irresistible.

© Yael Wolfe 2020

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