Fasting
Numbers don’t lie. Your age, your weight, the number of sexual partners you’ve encountered; concrete evidence of experience. Be it days, or dinners or the need for instant gratification, with every addition to the count how happy are you?
Abstinence. I thought it was that green liquor that made you hallucinate fairies. Turns out, our generation barely knows the definition because we live in fear of what it might say about our character. To most, there are two reasons why a person might not engage in sexual intercourse. The involuntary repercussions of either being unattractive…or a loser. I get it, people don’t always get it because they can’t always get it…but what if the people with the brains and the beauty held out for something a little more meaningful than a night under the sheets with someone they barely have anything in common with? What if just a few more people with the actual option practiced restraint from indulging in promiscuity? Mind. Blown.
I met a gentleman who’s purity was not evident. He looked like the kind of guy who broke hearts and etched notches on his bed post often. But, after making him feel comfortable enough to admit to a stranger of his venture from social norms he confessed that sex was not on his agenda, not now…and frankly maybe not ever. After the initial shock of rejection (internalized that little mystery right quick), I realized this wasn’t something he decided within the first half hour of knowing me. It had nothing to do with me, nor would it ever. It was a journey that most of us scared adults would never bring to fruition and he was living it every day. I had a million questions. Why now? Why not ten years ago? When does it end? What makes for an exception? How bad do your balls hurt? He answered everything with an honest and open heart, reminding me that he, like most people, doesn’t need physical intimacy to develop a deep and everlasting connection.
insert line about testing the car before you drive it off the lot insert eye roll insert vomit insert hanging self Every time I think about holding off, about retracting the gift of my body for the pure ecstasy of a strangers validation I hear the men in my life reminding me that they would never put a ring on a finger that hasn’t felt the warmth of their irresponsible shaft. This personal decision is tough enough without the added concern that I won’t find a single man forgiving of my decision. As if my ratio of eligible suitors wasn’t at an all-time low, now I want to find someone who understands core values and doesn’t laugh in my face when I tell him I won’t blow him in the parking lot. Here we go.
Sex. I understand the want, but lately, I’ve been questioning the need. It’s a fine line, the one between keeping someone with potential from fleeing and giving some asshat off the street a quick orgasm. I think it’s time to start leaving people better than we find them and psychologically there’s nothing at the bottom of an empty one-night-stand besides the guilt and the regret. Therein lies the power to wait. The power to give less, but essentially hand our generation so much more. You don’t have to be the one to say no, but somebody has to. If I don’t, then she won’t, and then he won’t see the need for it either. And then we all just fuck each other into some STD ridden empty abyss of lost souls and angry lovers.
That’s why this year, I choose abstinence. Not due to religious affiliation. Or health concerns. Certainly not because it’s trendy, or helpful. I am a product of everything I internalize and self-love is not felt in my moments of sexual desperation. I hate everything about the moment I wake up next to someone who hasn’t even asked me my last name. Sex is easy. Intercourse is fun. Diving into someone’s fears, dreams, and aspirations before I get to that part is difficult and scary. But in the end, it will only intensify my admiration for the person who was meant to have me for the rest of our lives. They say, do things in full or not at all, but I am conscious of the difficulty of the task at hand and am not afraid to do it partially. Because I have freely chosen to take on what I think only statistically 3 percent of our world’s population is successful at, I’ll accept a low grade on this project just as long as I learn how to “fast” appropriately. #joinme
I am a 28 year old single mother of one. Stella Artois, appropriately named after my beer of choice, is my furry four legged child who's only job is to pick out a solid dude from the crapshoot of choices I bring home. We live with my father in an 800 square foot condo in Orange County, awaiting prince charming and enough memories to finish writing my autobiography about more baggage than an airport claim. Nothing keeps life more interesting than online dating, so I'm here to share with you bad dates 1-100.
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