About nine years ago, I met a young woman who I was both incredibly attracted to, and somewhat afraid of. She was introduced to me by mutual friends, and we got to know each other over a week of lengthy, wide-ranging conversations, walks in nature, and visits to local swimming holes during the hot summer days.
We shared great conversational chemistry - engaging in a seamless flow of conversation, debating, and sharing from one topic to another with natural ease. As we spent more time together, I found my physical attraction growing stronger, until it was almost unbearable. But as I mentioned above, I was also somewhat afraid of this young woman - there was a feeling of coldness, distance, and subterranean angst I perceived in her that made a vulnerable part of me feel perpetually insecure. Because of this, despite our enjoyable time together, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this person might hate me.
This sense of distance or discomfort probably made it more difficult than usual for me to express my feelings of attraction, though eventually it became too much for me to contain, and I shared everything I was feeling with my beautiful (and intimidating) new friend.
I shared my feelings of physical attraction, as well as my feelings of apprehension, insecurity, and discomfort on a deeper level. When I did so, she was incredibly open, curious, and understanding. She reluctantly shared a mutual feeling of attraction, as well as an awareness of a part of her that was cold, distant, and had an edge that could make others feel unliked, unwelcome, and afraid. Her ability to have a conversation about all of this was incredible.
Once we established our shared attraction, we awkwardly talked about exploring it. Eventually, this led to us choosing to spend the night together, with clear communication, mutual respect, and shared curiosity. Neither of us saw each other as a likely partner, given our different trajectories in life at the time, so we headed into this experience with no expectations of it leading to something more serious.
For the purpose of this blog post, the significant part of this story came into focus the day after we slept together. Alone at my home (which was a simple cabin in the wood at the time), I suddenly became quite ill. I got weak, tired, and for several days could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom or drink some water - I had a fever, was sweating profusely, and slipping in and out of hallucinatory states of semi-consciousness.
When my health recovered enough to walk again, I went and visited my friend and mentor. He was a professional empath/intuitive, and had an impressive track record of seeing and understanding the underlying energetic dynamics at play in an individual at any given moment.
After asking me a few questions, his assessment of my situation was quite clear: The energy in my beautiful, intimidating friend which I’d been afraid of, had affected me in a deep way when we slept together.
Although I had shared my feelings with her, and she had been extraordinarily receptive, there was still an emotional or energetic conflict active in her when we slept together, and a very tender, vulnerable part of me was overwhelmed, confused, and hurt by it. In other words, I took it on.
It was shocking that I could have such a strong reaction to a kind person who just had some (very normal and relatable) emotional stuff going on under the surface, however, this was certainly not the last time such a dynamic would play itself out in my life.
Several months after this experience, I found myself again spending time with a female friend where there was a very strong, mutual attraction. One night, we talked about it and ended up spending the evening together. When I woke up in bed beside her in the middle of the night, something quite bizarre was happening: I felt myself filled with intense feelings of guilt, anxiety, and pain, which somehow didn’t feel at all like they were mine. It’s somewhat hard to articulate this, by these intense emotions coursing through my body felt foreign, like they didn’t have the emotional signature of Miles’ feelings. They felt like the feelings of my friend, asleep beside me.
It later became clear that us sleeping together had brought up feelings of guilt, anxiety, and pain for her, which seemed to match exactly what I’d felt in bed that night (and over subsequent days, as it took a while for that energy to fully pass through me).
During the season of my life when these experiences took place, I was diving into an exploration of inner work - opening up to my emotions, vulnerability, and empathic sense - which seemed to make me more raw, tender, and receptive to the energy or emotion of those around me. Being sexually intimate with this raw vulnerability and empathic sensitivity so open required a kind of mindfulness, safety, and intention that I didn’t understand at the time.
Many years have passed since those events unfolded in my world, and I’ve spent a lot of time learning how to understand my vulnerability, as well as the difference between what is my energy and what is the energy of others. I've slowly been learning how to empathically feel the energy of others without it overwhelming, confusing, or devastating me. This is an ongoing practice, however I have made some significant strides in it.
My intention with this post is not to offer any strong advice, but to simply share my experience as an empathic individual for whom casual sex has at times been challenging. I’ve come to understand that sometimes, for certain individuals, or at certain phases in life, sexual intimacy is best shared in the kind of stable, trusting sanctuary you usually only get in a committed monogamous relationship. That sounds pretty great, anyways.
Being able to communicate with honesty, clarity, and maturity, is something that any empathic or highly sensitive individual might find they require to engage in sexual intimacy healthily. Come to think of it, that probably applies to most individuals.
For myself, one thing I know I need to feel comfortable being intimate with someone is a very simple but deep, intuitive, instinctive sense that who I am with likes me. That they are nice. That they care about me, and that they are a caring person in general. It’s not a logical or intellectual thing - it’s empathic. Someone can say all the right words, but if there isn’t that visceral feeling of ease, it doesn’t matter.
At the end of the day, I’m grateful to be learning to hold my vulnerability, empathy, and sensitivity in the world as a whole - and the area of sexual intimacy just happens to be one of the most fascinating and sometimes confusing areas of this learning.
That’s all for today! If you like this post, check out my new book, How To Open The Heart: An Incredible Journey Into Vulnerability, Empathy, And The Transformation Of Consciousness.
What about you? Do you have thoughts or experiences in this area to share? I'd love to hear from you if you do - leave a comment below or send me a message!
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