What an excellent day for a sexorcism.
Sex·or·cism \- Sek?rsi-z?m\ noun 1: the act or practice of expelling (an evil spirit, a.k.a the last person who royally screwedyou over/went back to their ex/started calling your roommate) by adjuration, futile attempts at self-medication, caving to personal vices or the potential of being royally screwed over by someone new.
Ah closure — the elusive spotted gazelle of human interaction. And let’s face it — gracefully ending something (anything?) is not something we specialize in as a culture (for example, Rock of Love I, II, III, Daisy of Love and Rock of Love Charm School).This can be said for all manner of relationships and is especially true for how we move to and from said encounters. For a seemingly select few it’s a healthy, poignant conversation, for others it means moving to another state or changing a last name — and then, of course, there are those of us* for whom closure is more akin to burning something sentimental or slashing a brand new pair of Pirellis. But if there’s ever a favorite method for moving on — at least symbolically — in my unofficial, professional opinion — it’s sex with someone else.
“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else” as the old saying goes. A seemingly self-evident piece of advice at its surface; however, when I turned to my favorite girls and boys for insight, what became blatantly apparent is that there are several layers of a sexorcism — spanning the spectrum from superficial to prolific.
Let’s start with superficial. This is straight-up, clean-out-the-cobwebs, clear-the-slate, revenge sex. It can be a one-night thing (with a condom of course!) or a string of dalliances, but the underlying theme here is that under no circumstances will you be hollering at He/She Who Will Not Be Named for a late-night booty call. You won’t be having sex with them period. Of course this doesn’t necessarily negate the odds of you calling the aforementioned former flame at an inappropriate hour after an even more inappropriate amount of drinks – but it does ensure, at some point, that you will be calling out someone else’s name in any manner of compromising positions.
Gratifying? Certainly. Emotionally? Maybe not so much. But then again, if you wanted a serotonin boost and a Freudian analysis of every relationship misstep since kindergarten, then you could have stayed in with your girlfriends and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. And in my highly unscientific, hugely biased research, the “best” — i.e. most entertaining — stories hovered in or around this category of carnal purging.
One common theme was sleeping with your Ex’s insecurities — one friend slept with the guy she had been falsely accused of being interested in during the relationship, another started sleeping with college guys after a breakup with a man 20 years her senior.. One of my fave boys slept exclusively with blondes after having his dignity trampled on by a brunette.
Another theme was “the upgrade” — hooking up with a person who at face value is a better version of the Ex. You know, the one who no matter where in the world said Ex might be floating around, if there even was a snowball’s chance in hell you could run into them in public — this would be the person to have draped on your arm. As a dear friend of mine so elegantly put it, “I am a confirmed sexorcist. My first impulse after ending it with somebody is to put on a hot dress and go hunting. The goal is to land myself a hotter, smarter, better dressed, more successful (and always preferably Latin) man.”
Racial/ethnic tendencies notwithstanding, almost everyone I spoke with was looking to compensate for a something they lacked in a previous relationship — naturally. Taller, thinner, hotter, bigger, smarter quickly gave way to “someone who wasn’t embarrassed to introduce me to his friends,” “someone who actually listens” — which leads us to a murky, gray area, the slippery slope from fling to friend to for real. Isn’t the next person always about the last person on some level? What if a rebound becomes something more and how do you avoid becoming one yourself?
After a period of social windfalls and relationship self-sabotage (don’t believe all the hype — I’m still mostly fabulous, albeit slightly damaged), several recent developments have made it clear that despite my best efforts at self-preservation and emotional distance, the return on investment that comes with certain situations — and people — is well worth the risk. I think most of us recognize when we’re in the middle of encounters that are, at the least, less than healthy and, at the very worst, actual emotional minefields— but we weigh the tradeoffs in the moment and act accordingly.
In my humble opinion and as cliché as it sounds, making the decision to trust your gut and follow your heart — despite the potential for landing on your ass — generally yields better overall results than the two-Jäger-bombs-plus-one-serious-vendetta formula. But you also wouldn’t know better until you’ve fallen down that staircase a few (hundred) times. So maybe the best revenge is finding out the smarter, nicer, sexier, more successful person is you (although, I’ll take the sweet hiss of that cheating bastard’s new sport tires as a close second). And if staying true to yourself is ultimately what lands you the next best thing — let’s hope the sex is so good it makes your head spin.
*Inferring the “royal” we. Does not necessarily denote author’s own state of mental health.
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