Tease. Prude. The Virgin. Whore. Naive. Heart-breaker. The Good Girl. Serial Dater. Bible Thumper.
These are all things I have been called: by men, by friends, by family, by strangers.
I am saying this to show you how one’s sexuality can cause others to assume certain things that aren’t necessarily true.
If I make out with a guy that I met recently then I’m a whore. But if I flirt without putting out, I’m a tease. I don’t care about [or for] these false labels, but they exist.
REAL conversation I had with a man in a bar this week:
Norwegian: I think I’m in love with you
Me: I guarantee that you’re not
Norway: No, really I am
Me: What’s my name?
Norway: I don’t remember
Me: This isn’t a good start (I begin to walk away)
Norway: (He chases after me) Can I at least have a kiss good night?
Me: Definitely not, I just met you.
Me: No! Why would I kiss you?
Norway: Because I’m never gonna see you again
Me: That’s funny, because that’s my exact reasoning for NOT kissing you
Norway: You’re a bi*#h (he mumbles as he retreats)
My stance on purity has been quite a topic lately. Well, lets be real, its been quite a topic my whole life…
At a party about five years ago I was approached by two men that I had never met before in my life. The first words out of Jackass #1’s mouth? “Are you the girl that’s a virgin?” Oh, hey! Yeah, nice to meet you too. I’d love to talk to you, a stranger, about my sexuality in the middle of a crowded room.
Obviously I am not ashamed of this as I am posting it for the world to see. But it’d also be nice if people didn’t treat me like I was either a circus freak or a saint. I made this very personal and serious decision when I was 14 because, even at that age, I knew I wanted sex to be with my future husband and him only. I saw the destruction that sexual promiscuity can have. I saw the dangerous power of lust.
With that said, I am a very sexual person. I still have desires and wants and temptations. I can miss what I have never had.
To my future husband: you better be ready, because I have 26 years of pent-up sexual frustration.
Last night I went to the Rebecca St. James Peace and Purity Tour at a Oceanside church. She is a gorgeous, Australian-born, Grammy award-winning musical artist and actress. She also saved sex for her wedding day, which happened to be last year. She was 33.
This is such an encouragement to me as it gets harder and harder each year to hold out for “Mr. Right” instead of “Mr. Right Now.” And it remains difficult when people tell me to “just get it over with.” You would think if anyone was going to be jumping up and down about my declaration, it’d be my father. But no, even he thinks it’s naive.