I’ve been really naive for the past eighteen years.
I’ve been really naive about everything.
You may think that I’m a well-informed young woman. All vegan and whatnot. Conscious of her carbon footprint. You may think that my love for animals is bold, revolutionary and difficult–inconvenient, even. I know because I used to look up to this kind of person. Yeah, well, that’s what you think.
You may think it’s so great that I’m all for equality! I’m a liberal! And I’m learning about feminism and I’ve learned that some of the things I’ve said in the past were just stupid. Like what I said about rape. And like how I used to use the word “ghey” generously because I figured it was an appropriate synonym for “stupid.” Nevermind that it sounds the same as “gay.” I stopped a long time ago, and it’s just a huge improvement on my part.
And you know…it’s great that I read so much. I’m educating myself. Most people my age never bother to pick up a damn book because reading is boring. But I know that it’s crucial. You have to find the right books. And I also know that finding your own taste in music is important, too. Not like I think outside the box, really, but at least I’ve found my true niche musically. I love what I hear.
Maybe you’re not thinking any of this. Maybe you think I’m stupid, and that’s inaccurate as well. You’d only be right if you said that I’m incredibly naive. Back to the first sentence. I’m naive.
I thought people really cared about these things. I thought they made these missions their life. Education, God, animal rights, feminism, math. But really, they’re just hobbies. At the end of the day, they just go home for a good fuck. That’s it. When they clock out, their temporary hobbies don’t matter. It’s all about sex.
I’m not just talking about society and advertising. I’m talking about life. The big picture. Doesn’t it seem so obvious? I mean, it’s instinct to track down a mate. We look for soulmates, and life–they tell you that you should live to love. Everything’s about “love.” It’s just a nice way to cover it up and say that everything’s about sex. You fall in love, and you want to have sex with that person. You have sex, and you may or may not fall in love. What is love anymore? And I’m completely serious–what is love?
So as an eighteen-year-old virgin, I feel singled out and stupid. So many women in the feminist movement tell you that you should have sex. You shouldn’t worry about retaining your virginity. It won’t sully you to have sex. In fact, it’s unhealthy not to have sex. Fuck Christian morals. Have sex. Have sex as often as you want with as many partners as you want. Virginity doesn’t matter and it doesn’t feel any different to lose it. You don’t have to rush to lose it or anything, but man, don’t be a fucking prude. Just get it over with when you’re offered the chance.
Now you think I’m not worth listening to because I’m inexperienced. Or you think I’m Christian (I’m not, and I don’t see myself waiting until marriage because I don’t even know about marriage). Or you think I’ve got some moral complex with having sex or at least being deflowered (I simply don’t).
My reason is simple. I haven’t had three million opportunities to have sex. I’ve had one, and I felt at my core that I was too young and not ready, so I just declined. I’m no good at suggestion and I’m really shy. I’m fairly difficult to obtain because I’m selective and timid, and I’m fairly difficult to retain because I have commitment issues–I’m always in love with someone else. Oh, and I’m not going to go out of my way to ask some boy flat-out if he wants to fuck–Number One, how romantic would that be? and Number Two, he would no doubt decline my offer because that would be creepy. There are some guys who would be turned on by some girl asking them to fuck, but not just any girl. We’re talking at least sorority-girl hot or cheerleader hot. I’m very average.
Basically, it’s my decision, and it has nothing to do with religion or morals. I just don’t want to. I want to be passionate about other things, like literature and intellectual pursuits and French. I don’t need sex right now, and I don’t think that will ever be some main focus of my life. I’m not going to argue that sex sucks. I think it’s necessary, just as necessary as art or music or eating. But to make it the focus of everything, the underlying meaning of absolutely everything…it’s overwhelming for me. I just want intellectual pursuits without sex.
It’s always been weird hearing about people who have stated that they would fuck me or that they find me even mildly attractive (an implication that they could potentially find me fuckable down the road). But now I understand that it’s just what everything boils down to. Sex. It’s not really anything personal, and they don’t love me. It’s not really that they even like me. It’s that I have a vagina and reasonable tits.
This is where I have a problem with conformity to “sexual orientations.” I’m not going to say that it’s actually a preference, something we can turn on and off. But if love is what I want it to be–if love is about more than just sex–then I’m partial to self-determinism. The lack of autonomous gender preference. Or, okay, you could say that I’m heterosexual, and that would be accurate because I’ve always been attracted to males and I’ve always dated males and I’ve never had any sort of intimate relationship with a female (not that I’ve ever had the opportunity because society makes it so unacceptable to be in a same-gender relationship that my mom would probably temporarily disown me). I am predominantly, overwhelmingly heterosexual. That doesn’t mean that I’d completely rule out loving a woman, though. Right now, I’m not talking about sexual experimentation, like so many girls do. I’m talking about love, like being madly in love with someone. Love of mind and personality and appearance, but mainly things that extend beyond appearance. Maybe that would extend to sex. But it would be primarily based on mind and personality and appearance, because that’s how I evaluate my love for males, too. I think that confinement to heterosexual or homosexual or bisexual labels is negative because I don’t see any reason why you can’t love whoever you want. Now, some people would be willing to label me as bisexual for even thinking this way. Others would prefer to label me as a lesbian because bisexuality “doesn’t exist,” and if I’m dancing with a guy, I’ll always be looking over his shoulder at some girl (not true). And these are just my thoughts right now–I’ve not even acted on them yet.
For the sex obsession, by the way, it’s not just the men. It’s the women, too. Of course, it’s more repressed because it’s less socially acceptable for a girl to express her sexual desires than it is for a guy. I mean, a guy can express that he has a boner proudly, but a girl can’t express that she’s all wet and horny. But think about it. Your female teachers will go home and have steamy sex with their boyfriends tonight. Maybe after an argument, cold and stiff makeup sex. Maybe after a romantic dinner. The girl who made your sandwich at Subway will have sex with her girlfriend after her shift. That’s everything. Sex is universal. It’s so simple. It’s why we need other people’s approval. It’s why we care so much about appearance. We want to get laid. And unlikely people get laid, too. Your class president. The bus driver. Unlikely people have sex with people who are unlikely candidates to be their sexual partners. Teachers and students. The most studious people in your grade with some drug addicts. Most people you meet have sex or have had sex. They’re just not sharing. But I don’t know why not. Everyone wants it. Sharing stories would make sex ever so slightly more attainable if it was less secret, and I think it would also make a lot of types of sex less taboo.
Only thing is, I hope I’m wrong about life being about sex. It’s so disappointing that life might be based on something so simple and even carnal and completely superficial. It’s so disappointing that I can feel myself plummeting into a depression. I think I just want boko-maru. I just want to press the soles of my feet up against those of someone else and let them work their magic. I want a connection without taking off my clothes. I want to love simply and to be loved without the expectation of an orgasm all the time. I want to be loved for being smart and attractive and witty. But I don’t want to have to be Christian to do it.
P.S. Many parts of this entry are inspired by BITCHfest.
P.P.S. I left my secret somewhere in Richmond today, and it helped me to feel better.
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