Am I Secret-ing Sex?

Today, it went down. I thought it was just a myth– an urban legend stemming from Sex and the City. Or at least something that materializes for an elite few. But, no. On this unassuming Sunday morning, it became true:

I was asked out at the gym.

It was an especially rare day, as I was bereft of all Lululemon and makeup. (I wear foundation to pick up packages from my doorman—sad truth). I left the encounter feeling dazed and confused – how was this happening!?  I remember wishing that my Tom Ford oversized sunnies were even more gargantuan so as to mask the beads of sweat pouring from what seemed like every pore on my face. Does this man only possess three of five senses? Clearly, if he could see or smell me, he would have assuredly run the other way.

Once upon a time, when I first signed up for Equinox, this man was assigned to me as my trainer (think abs of steel). It was only a few months ago when he was grabbing my belly fat to calculate my body mass index. In what world could that have been foreplay?? I have always been baffled by how a man who exercises such discipline could find an indulgent mac-and-cheese loving woman attractive. The fact that I tend to ponder such enigmas over cupcakes probably does not help my search for the truth…


As I bite into said red-velvet delicacy, I wonder: Why have I recently been asked out with such a higher frequency than is standard for me? (One caveat: My normal is essentially zero, so there is only upside). We have all heard the countless clichés about the power of positive thinking. Once, while lamenting over the dearth of decent graduate school boys at Harvard, my classmate mentioned the cult classic, The Secret, which posits that the law of attraction determines our personal lives through the process of “like attracts like.” Her friend Secret-ed that a boy would ask her out, and literally within the week he brought her flowers! (Anyone who has gone to graduate school can understand exactly what a rarity that is.)

Is the Secret legit? I don’t know. However, I do know these days– I like sex, and sex seems to like me.

I have always loved boys, yet that alone clearly has not been sufficient enough to attract a lasting mate. (See blog title). But lately, something has been different. Yes, the ostensible change is that I have set my inner whore free. Does that solely warrant why my adventures have been kicked up a notch?

Perhaps my recent love of sex willed the universe to make Trainer strike up a longer conversation with me and eventually ask me on a date. Or, possibly I am just happier in general from all my past romps and the positive repercussions, i.e. not having a stick up my ass constantly, and thus I was more willing to partake in the aforementioned banter. Or, maybe all sluts experience a comparable hot-streak and to me it’s just a novelty.

Despite his rock hard body, I politely declined the date with Trainer. I was not interested and I didn’t want to have to avoid the gym for any other reason aside from my pure laziness. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if like attracts like or if ho-ing it up gets the job done—sexcapades will come!


Pretty please, with a cherry on top?

All you have to do is ask.

I essentially paid $200k for a Wharton education to learn the pivotal business negotiation tactic above. But I have recently found that the tenet holds true for sex as well. Until recently, I thought the hard to get card was the best one to play (at least whilst sober), and I still accept that it is human nature to want what you cannot have. However, I have also witnessed that people want what is simple, and right in front of them. To get it, you simply have to ask nicely.

I try to be easy breezy, but I end up mostly feigning it. Add just plain easy to that outlook, and you most certainly end the night with a romp. Case in point: this past week I reconnected with an old high school friend. He has reached out to me over the last 10+ years (clue 1 he wants to bone) although we have probably only seen each other twice since graduation. We met for drinks in a dark West Village wine bistro (clue 2: a dimly lit bar = ideal pre-bone setting) on a Thursday evening (clue 3: no one really bones for the first time during the first half of the week). Based on my Nancy Drew-like sleuthing skills, I naturally assumed that based on his behavior pattern and the fact that he possesses a penis, he clearly wants to get it in.

So, I askcheese-charcuterie-boarded him, in between bites of charcuterie, and in the easiest of breeziest ways, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

There was a look of shock cum excitement cum shock again before he answered. He rambled on about how he just wanted to catch up and how he even mentally told himself not to hit on me tonight. Ultimately, I have never seen a man pay the check so quickly.

Would I ever have been that direct pre-age 29? Absolutely not. All I sought from my old pal in that moment was a little action between the sheets. There were no games, no dalliances, and no mysteries– he knew exactly what I wanted. I got exactly what I asked for, and eleven years later– so did he. It was honest, mature, and very, very fun. (PS- he is ALSO a lawyer—that’s four in a row now! Separate blog post idea: On Boning Barristers?)

It has been written that nice girls don’t ask, but smart women do. Although that advice was given to those who desire to climb the corporate ladder, I have discovered that the same applies if you just want to climb up on a man. Yes, this behavior will probably not lead towards a long-lasting and loving relationship (can someone say snoozefest??). But at 29—I get it. I’m in this for the same reason this bozo on top of me is. And I am going to enjoy it for what it is. So I have learned—ask and I shall receive!