My Independence Day
July 4th, 2010: The day we celebrate our freedom and the immeasurable bravery of our military men and women—both past and present—who make our freedom possible. I'm watching Toby Keith sing An American Soldier, while our military men and women passionately sing right along with him, and I think, what am I doing? Hiding because I've made a choice that isn't exactly mainstream? Afraid of what people will say? What they will call me? What they will think of me? Well, what an incredible wimp! No more.
On this July 4th, I declare my freedom to be *gulp* a 32-year-old virgin. <pause for horrified gasp> Yes, I am a 32-year-old virgin. Hmm. It sounds less shocking in my head than when it's glaring back at me on the computer screen. Ah, well, it is what it is, right?
Way back in high school—where I heard one horror story after another—I made the decision to wait for love. Though I'm a strong believer in God, religion wasn't the primary influence on my decision, nor was I pressured by my family to remain virtuous. In fact, my parents are very chill, laid-back southerners. No, I made this decision all on my own. Never in a million years did I think it would take THIS long to find love! Heck, I've never even had faux love. Nothing. Each time there might have been a pretty promising candidate, something I can only describe as cosmic/otherworldly interruptions came shooting in like lightening on a storm-free day. More on that in future posts.
Call me weird, if you like. It's okay, really. People should dare to be weird. If it's weird to want to wait for love, then so be it. Honestly, I just want one man I can wear out for the rest of his life.
It's time to stop hiding, embrace who I am, and start having some fun with this, so I've come up with a little tiered task.
Threefold Task:
- Fear conqueror: Each week, I will take on a fear or phobia, no matter how small or stupid.
- Stereotype Slayer: Yeah, it's time to break down the whole virgin stigma (wallflower, nerd, boring, dull). No wallflowers here, not even close, and I'm proud to say I've never been called nerdy, boring, or dull. And no, I don't wear high collars or long skirts, and I don't have hair down to my bum (I've heard these comments made about virgins in general. Not that there's a thing wrong with those fashion tastes...they just aren't mine).
- Personal Quest, October 2012: I'm not a believer in firmly saying I will absolutely find love and make love by a certain date or age. That's not how love works. The minute I say, “oh, here's my deadline for love,” is the minute I screw any hope for fate to work its magic. Having said that, I figure a “target” date isn't necessarily a bad thing. And what better date than two months before the end of the world? I mean, if the supposed cataclysmic events take place on December 21, 2012, then I have a two month buffer to make up for lost time.
There we have it—conquer fear, slay stereotypes, and find me some love, among other things. Shouldn't be too tough...despite the fact that it's taken this long. I refuse to see that as discouraging. I like to think fate is behind everything.
Think I've achieved facing this week's fear: I've come out as a virgin. Hmm. If gay people come out of the closet, and vampires come out of the coffin (as they say on True Blood), what do virgins come out of? Underwear? Makes sense. I guess I've just come out of my underwear as a virgin. Fabulous. This is gonna be fun...I hope.
