Posted by on Jun 29, 2010 in Relationships and Sex | 0 comments


I’ve never had sex in an airplane. One of my boyfriends once masturbated sitting next to me on a flight; apparently I was sleeping and missed it. Another time, when I was flying an airplane (yes, I used to fly airplanes) I gave the guy I was seeing a hand job. Don’t freak, I was being safe; the sky was clear, the plane was on autopilot, and he didn’t take long… But no sex.

I always wondered how people got way with it… Unless you were on some private chartered jet wasn’t it too obvious? But the biggest problem, I’d never had the fortune of sitting next to anyone I was attracted to. I’d had plenty of great conversations with interesting people, but none I ever felt compelled to shag until this one flight from Denver to LA.

It was late, and there wasn’t a lot of people standing in line to get on the B777. I noticed a tall, young, well-built blond and immediately thought: I won’t get to sit next to him. Because that seemed to be my other plight, if there was a hot guy I noticed getting on a plane, I never got to sit by him. This time turned out different.

His name was JP, he was 22, an Airforce fire-fighter, and was sweet enough to reach over from the seat behind mine and offer me some pretzels. According to my diary we totally hit it off, talked the entire flight, and by the end, I was armed with his number and the fact that he didn’t live that far from my place.

But here’s where the story gets twisted. I was still seeing my on-again-off-again boyfriend at the time. And I was going to therapy over the whole thing. I know, kinda retarded. If you’re in therapy over someone you’re not even married to, isn’t that a really bad sign? Shouldn’t you just break up and move on? But the therapy was more about me than him or us. It was about me trying to figure out why, when I was supposed to be in a long-term, committed, monogomous relationship with someone I loved, was I taking a number from the hot eligible bachelor I recently met on an airplane?

I remember asking my therapist that day: “Am I normal? Is this normal?” My therapist reminded me he disliked using the word “normal”. That there can be some logic found in every action that a person takes. “You want it all,” is what he did say to me. He told me I enjoyed the stability of having a boyfriend, yet also enjoyed the adventure of meeting and dating other men. Maybe I was looking for the bigger better deal, or maybe that was just my “normal”.

That night, I tossed JP’s number. I guess I wanted to prove something to myself. Maybe that I could be a better girlfriend, or maybe I wasn’t ready to come to terms with my “normal”.