Throwing Bones

“Sifting through the sands of men.” – Abraham

“Excuse me, miss, but can I help you?”

The man must have walked for a couple of blocks before turning around and walking back towards me. By this point, I had walked on from the bench where I had first smiled at him.

“Uh, yeah,” I responded, then quickly added, “I mean, no. Did you just walk past me a bit ago, like did you turn around and walk back for me?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You looked so peaceful, and pretty. Then you smiled at me. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“What do you do?” He continued.

“Like for a living?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m a yoga teacher,” I said.

“When’s your birthday?” I not surprisingly asked. I figured at this point since we were getting so personal that it was a pertinent question.

Aquarius, the stranger answered.

“Yay!” I exclaimed. “I love Aquarius! Aquarius is my favourite sign.”

They never know what to say when you compliment them off guard, but I’m convinced that they like it all the same. We agreed to walk over to the park and sit on a different bench to continue talking. Aquarius had the same birthday as a former lover who happens to be my best audience yet. Because of that Aquarius, I want more.

I didn’t mean to grill Aquarius, but it came out that he lives with his girlfriend. I could handle the two divorces and two children, I told him, but I couldn’t handle the girlfriend.

“I’m impressed,” he said as I picked myself up from our platonic affair and walked off into the night. I think he may have even liked me more than my pink, crushed velvet sneakers. We agreed to be friendly in the event we ever run into each other again.

In 2011, 28-year-old Jill collected unsolicited dick pics—I had a library full of them on my Blackberry—while six years later, 34-year-old Jill is collecting business cards. I think we’re growing up. Now to meet an Aquarius who’s single, unmarried and prefers monogamy.

Recently I received a business card from a Leo who wanted to talk about feelings and sex, naturally of course, moments after meeting him. He asked me for coffee; I asked him for a business card, and told him that I might actually call him. Afterwards I felt skeptical because he talked about sex. Then in contemplation it occurred to me that it would be okay for an Aquarius to mention sex during a first encounter, but not for a Leo. Leos, as it stands, happen to be great in bed. Generous lovers to say the least, those lions like going down.

Movement, I tell my friends, is movement.

I can’t help but desire, however, a man closer to my age. A man in his thirties would be nice, the logician tells me, because then we could die together in each other’s arms. That way our donkeys wouldn’t have to spend a moment apart. I can think of only one man on my bucket list who’s fifteen years older than me. Okay. Fourteen-and-a-half, because sometimes a girl needs a half.

Cancer runs a close second. In fact, at one point I wouldn’t consider Aquarius because Aquarius doesn’t need anyone. Then a Cancer trampled all over my heart, and I figured as long as I’m good to my Aquarius (which I will be), he’ll be devoted to me for life.

Monogamy isn’t slavery in a healthy relationship, not that I’m against polyamory; I’m simply not into it.

I suspect many people turn poly in much the same way that many women turn to women after having their hearts broken by one too many a man: because (in theory) one person can’t hurt us when we’re dipping our parts into many (or, satisfaction eludes us and we won’t grow bored). Or, for whatever reason, we think that women aren’t bitches who can hurt us. I’ve only witnessed the first line of logic bypass one human being who happened to be a woman who co-related with multiple men. The only bona fide polyamorist I’ve ever met. A beautiful, blonde Aries, she claimed that she never experienced jealousy, yet all of her male partners did. Open relationships, from what I gather, are slightly different. And then there are extended relationships.

Sexual energy, when not properly harnessed and channeled, can be dirty and chaotic—and you absorb and distribute that low-vibrating energy from and to all active, concurrent partners when you’re mindlessly (or desperately!) sleeping around. Two words: No thanks. Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt.

Yet, a whisper of jealousy (in my opinion) never hurt anyone. Although, in my inexperienced black and white picture, jealousy only makes sense in monogamy. In yoga, we would call that whisper information. What is that information telling us? To fly off the handle? No. Remember we’re collecting business cards and growing up now. When I experience jealousy with respect to a man, that tells Capricorn (who may acknowledge her vagina but unlikely her feelings) that we may have a heart on for him. It happens occasionally, and that information is also enough to keep me from knocking boots with a man who wants me solely for sex.

So, because I’m not personally interested in polyamory, does that make polyamory or exploring polyamory wrong? No. I admittedly can’t speak experientially about it either. Monogamy and polyamory are preferences—sexuality is a freedom, a privilege and a preference. In a world of contrast, we are entitled to our preferences.

I attempted to commingle in an open relationship dynamic with aforementioned Aquarius, but I wasn’t his No. 1, and the experience taught me that I didn’t share lovers well. Does that mean I can’t leave a man to his devices? I wouldn’t be surprised if my ex in that respect is kicking himself.

This brings me to the reason that I’m not interested in Vipassanā—that is, organized silence—retreats. I spend enough time silent and alone in contemplation without paying money for it. I like my own company.

Why, then, do I want a man in my life? Because when I live with my love and do what I love for a living, I do have it all.