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Start your week with sex… or lack thereof. Delve into the jungle of the newly out and single every Monday morning in Sexual Disorientation.

Drinks on the Terrace, Spring '09

From spring flings to summer lovin, it seems that there is only one thing on many people’s minds as the temperature rises. Many people try to pull off that illusive feat: the short term affair that is more than a one-night stand but less than a long-term relationship.

But as we hit the dog days and the summer nights, and things heat up outside, can we keep them from heating up too much with our beaus? Can we balance temperature with temperance? Or will our flings just get flung?

Chapter One: A Model Flingizen

Late last summer, after returning back to the District from a summer on the West Coast, I caught up with an old friend with whom I had studied in Turkey. She was one of the many great people I had met during college – strong and sensible, beautiful and brilliant – a true catch. Whilst abroad, we had spent a good deal of time discussing men and relationships, and more specifically our hesitancy to get involved with either.

Each of us had very limited experience in this department. We had both been overworked and overly shy in high school; in college, I had only recently come out, and she (a hetero woman) went to a women’s college in New England, which is a less than ideal place to meet men. While abroad we took comfort in having met someone else who was unwilling to rush into a relationship.

I was therefore surprised to hear at the end of the summer that – even though she was about to move and knew it wouldn’t be serious – she had pursued a short-term pseudo relationship. We had both been holding out for someone who could be the one, but somewhere along the line my friend decided that a little fling might be just the thing.

“You know,” she said, “sometimes you can learn a lot from a man, even if it’s just for a short time.” This was her first real thing, and clearly she thought it had helped her relationship potential to mature.

What’s more was that I sensed a sub-text here. She was hinting to me that despite my reservations, a brief beau might help me to work through some of the issues that relationships offer without the pressure of thinking it was till death do us part. In running, no one starts out with tackling a marathon; you begin small and you work your way up. Maybe the same was true in dating.

I asked her if she was said to say goodbye to him as she moved away. She seemed a little disappointed, but was hardly heartbroken. They agreed to stay in touch, though when I mentioned it a few months later the fling seemed already largely forgotten.

Chapter Two: The World’s Worst Flinger

Some people just aren’t built for flings. One such person was my friend, gay confidant, and self-styled socialite of Georgetown. Until our recent graduation, he was not only the king of the preppy party scene, he was also a queen who could hardly go two dates without thinking marriage.

I think that sometime in April it hit him: he was never going to find his future husband in his last few weeks at Georgetown. He was too proper to simply pursue hookups, so why not try a spring fling? After all, a cute guy would make the perfect warm weather accessory, whether or not he was only a rental.

And so he set out looking, and his first stop, oddly enough, was me. I have yet to achieve friendship with a man without hooking up with him, wanting to hook up with him, or having him think that I want to hook up with him, so this shouldn’t have come as a shock. We had known each other for a long time and talked every single day. Who was to say that it couldn’t work?

But as we discussed the possibilities we had, he detested my pragmatic attitude. Fling or not, he needed me to at least speak the language of romance – not come right out and say, we both know that this is just a short-term thing.

And when, after enough wine was consumed, we hooked up anyway, he couldn’t go through with things. “We want completely different things,” he said to me on rainy night in a muddy field. “You don’t care about money! And you have an eyebrow ring!”

I tried to tell him that none of that mattered – that if this was just a fling, who cared that we didn’t share the same life goals or social status? But even if it was just for a few weeks, this boy couldn’t go bourgeois.

After me there was Jon, who my friend said “might be the perfect fling.” But Jon got scared off by things moving too fast and the decidedly un-flingy talk of the future. And my friend decided that if he and Jon couldn’t at least have a pretend future, he’d just as soon put Jon in his past.

And then there was Alex, a fixture on the gay scene who was rumored to be better endowed than the Harvard Business School. This time it was Alex who moved too fast – or at least too far – and wanted to take a little more than my friend was prepared to offer, at least to a man who wasn’t on the husband track.

In the end, he may not have had an affair to remember, but he got a lesson he wouldn’t forget. Like all good accessories, the spring fling simply doesn’t fit some styles.

Chapter Three: From Just Friends to Just Flings

I met him online and within days agreed – with a great deal of hesitancy – to meet in person. One never knows what to expect with these things.

But V was everything I hoped he’d be and more. Smart, funny, and sweet, not to mention very cute, we instantly had a connection. There was only one problem. While I could hardly keep my hands off him, he just wanted to be friends.

Our first non-date began meeting up in Dupont Circle at 1am on a Saturday. From there we went to Georgetown and stayed up talking until 6am. He spent the night at my place, as he lived far from me, and while he slept in my tiny bed I curled up on my yoga mat on the floor. In the morning, I let him sleep in while I rose early to work. I made us brunch and we proceeded to spend another five hours in Dupont and Adams Morgan before he went home.

Our second non-date had even more undercover romance. A bottle of wine chez moi before dinner at a French bistro, a movie down the street, and a walk along Washington Harbor. Another night platonically spent at my place. Another brunch and another departure.

When we made plans to meet up again, I knew two things. One, my time to turn this into a hot affair was running out, and staying just friends was difficult with someone that I liked so much. And two, even if I was able to start things up with him, keeping it at fling level would be hard.

Truth be told, this wasn’t someone I wanted to fling with, it was someone I wanted to date and maybe be in a real relationship with. But with both of us facing potential moves, that wasn’t an option.

Thinking about my two friends – one of whom succeeded with the fling and one of whom failed – I thought that if I guarded my feelings carefully enough, I could pull it off. I wasn’t so obsessed with the future that I couldn’t enjoy the moment, and who better than this great guy with whom to try things out?

The next time he returned there were candles on the patio and three bottles of wine in the pantry. I managed to pull off the seduction, and though I could hardly believe it, I found myself in his arms before the cabernet was kaput.

But what remained to be seen was whether we could keep things hot without letting them boil over – whether we could not get too attached or get each other hurt – whether we could stay on the same page and enjoy a little fling, or suddenly face a boatload of drama.

Tune in next week when we get some answers.

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