Sunday, April 5, 2009

soaking in it

getting myself into hot water

I do not get along with hot tubs.

This isn't one of those female anatomy health things. Yes, they've been bad for my sex life, but not in that way.

My first opportunity to enjoy a hot tub was at a beau's parent's house in university. I wanted to make love in the hot tub (being young and naive and believing too much of what I'd seen depicted in film). He refused, which was my first disappointment.

My second disappointment came about half an hour later in his parents' bed, when he told me after making love (or perhaps "doin' it" would be more accurate) that, much to my surprise, I was not his “girlfriend”. How strange, given our 6 month ongoing public relationship. On the way home I recall thinking, in an effort to crank up my indignance, "I finally got to try a hot tub and he ruined it for me."

A fling and a beau later, I would again try the hot tub experiment. But this time I was in the driver's seat... down to Niagara Falls to stay in a room with a heart shaped tub.

By the time the pink champagne was cracked and the bubble bath was being added, the beau wasn't feeling too good. He put on a brave face throughout, though it was obvious he wasn't enjoying it. Few things are less romantic than your partner "enduring" foreplay. Later we found out he had come down with mono, and it was at its worse that weekend.

About 6 years and a break-up later, I was again with the same person in a hotel in Windsor. I'd convinced my friend-with-privileges of the value of a hot-tub suite. But that night he refused to join me in the tub, for reasons unknown to me. Maybe on some level he knew that would turn out to be our last night together. Or maybe he was just pissed that we'd had such a crappy time at the casino. Who knew the biggest gamble I'd lose is the extra $$ we spent for the hot tub.

A few years ago, I visited Mexico with my sweetheart. Our room had a hot tub. And while he was more than willing to join me in the tub, he fell under the spell of a day of beer and sunshine, capped with a warm soak in pulsating water. Too relaxed and exhausted for dinner or much else, he passed out, and I resigned myself to finishing my book and missing our dinner reservation.

I've always liked the idea of hot tubs. But perhaps I should learn and just give up on the dream. Because after all this time, it seems that I can either have the hot tub, or the man, but never, ever both.

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