Acquaintance She-Beast: "I don't understand why you're comfortable being a joke."
Me: "I didn't realize I was a joke."
Acquaintance She-Beast: "Oh, come on. You're a virgin in your 30s. Of course people are laughing behind your back. I do. Instead of poor you, I like to say pure you." She laughs.
Honestly, was that funny at all? On the joke scale, I'm thinking it's pretty lame.
Me: "Well, laughing is good for the heart, right? I'm just doing my part for mankind."
Acquaintance She-Beast: "I'm just trying to be a friend."
Gag.
Me: "Ooooh, so that's what you're trying to be. Totally thought you were channeling something else."
Acquaintance She-Beast, missing it completely: "You're welcome." Did I thank her? "Now, you know it's a New Year?"
Me: "Yes, that much I am aware of."
Acquaintance She-Beast: "It's time to stop people laughing at you. Let's make a plan to get you laid. Shouldn't be tough. We just have to get you over this love thing."
Me, after a moment's pause: "Did you make any New Year's resolutions?"
Acquaintance She-Beast: "I never do, why?"
Why doesn't that surprise me?
Me: "Might want to consider making a few dozen"
Not sure she even got it, but I sure felt better.
Here's what: If people are laughing at me, let 'em! I really just don't care. Besides, I laugh at myself all the time. I'm not trying to live my life the way other people think I should live it--nobody should live like that because that's not really living at all.
Laugh on! :)
Showing posts with label Why Wednesday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Why Wednesday. Show all posts
Why Wednesday: Why Not Drag Him Along Through The Holidays?
Must make certain I get the quote exactly as presented to me:
Self-proclaimed guru on "hooking" men said: "You know, you could just let a guy think he's going to get some. Just for the holidays. Why not, you know? Just keep putting it off. At least you could say you had someone for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Valentine's Day."
Now, this suggestion came in two variations:
Tell him up front about my virginity (because he will understand the need to give me time and his inner ego will still desire to "deflower" the virgin)
OR
Keep it a secret for a time, continue to tell him I'm not ready, and when he looks like he's going to bail, then tell him. According to the self-proclaimed guru, this method will keep him on the hook for at least another month (apparently, he will still have hope of "nailing the virgin.").
Um...I may be wrong, but isn't this the very definition of "prick tease?" Yeah, I don't do that.
And why is it so catastrophic for a girl (or guy) to be single for the holidays? I'm not saying it's easy, but it's not the end of the world.
Thanksgiving = family, food, and football. (and the parade)
Christmas = spending time with family, decorating, reliving holiday memories, eating loads of pastries, watching holiday classics, listening to merry music. Oh, and the gifts...even if they are from you to you. Notice I list gifts last...honestly, I'd be just as happy on that day if there were no presents at all.
New Year's Eve = admittedly, it sucks to be single on NYE. I always find something to do, whether it's to watch a marathon of my very favorite shows or movies or just hanging with the family. I never go out unless I have a date--blame the kiss-at-midnight-thing.
Vomit, er, Valentine's Day = I have absolutely no use for it. Why do we need a day to tell someone how much we care? Shouldn't that be an everyday-kind-of thing? My tradition? I treat myself to something I absolutely love. Basically, I have declared February 14th a "me day."
So, yes, I'd love to have someone during the major holidays, but I'm not crying in my eggnog. And I'm certainly not going to be some tart and tease a man just to say I had someone on said holidays--that's just plain rude, not to mention lame.
Self-proclaimed guru on "hooking" men said: "You know, you could just let a guy think he's going to get some. Just for the holidays. Why not, you know? Just keep putting it off. At least you could say you had someone for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Valentine's Day."
Now, this suggestion came in two variations:
Tell him up front about my virginity (because he will understand the need to give me time and his inner ego will still desire to "deflower" the virgin)
OR
Keep it a secret for a time, continue to tell him I'm not ready, and when he looks like he's going to bail, then tell him. According to the self-proclaimed guru, this method will keep him on the hook for at least another month (apparently, he will still have hope of "nailing the virgin.").
Um...I may be wrong, but isn't this the very definition of "prick tease?" Yeah, I don't do that.
And why is it so catastrophic for a girl (or guy) to be single for the holidays? I'm not saying it's easy, but it's not the end of the world.
Thanksgiving = family, food, and football. (and the parade)
Christmas = spending time with family, decorating, reliving holiday memories, eating loads of pastries, watching holiday classics, listening to merry music. Oh, and the gifts...even if they are from you to you. Notice I list gifts last...honestly, I'd be just as happy on that day if there were no presents at all.
New Year's Eve = admittedly, it sucks to be single on NYE. I always find something to do, whether it's to watch a marathon of my very favorite shows or movies or just hanging with the family. I never go out unless I have a date--blame the kiss-at-midnight-thing.
Vomit, er, Valentine's Day = I have absolutely no use for it. Why do we need a day to tell someone how much we care? Shouldn't that be an everyday-kind-of thing? My tradition? I treat myself to something I absolutely love. Basically, I have declared February 14th a "me day."
So, yes, I'd love to have someone during the major holidays, but I'm not crying in my eggnog. And I'm certainly not going to be some tart and tease a man just to say I had someone on said holidays--that's just plain rude, not to mention lame.
Why Wednesday: Why Waste All This Time Being A Virgin?
Her: Why are you wasting all this time?
Me: Are you seriously asking me this?
Her: You're not going to be young forever...why waste all this time when you could be having sex with guys, find out what you like, see what different guys have, you know? It's crazy. There's nothing wrong with screwing around until you find the one. You should just go pick a guy up, get crazy, and start having fun.
Me: Well, thanks for your opinion. The one I didn't ask for...why do people always do that?
Truth: With every bad date--every nightmare date--every birthday, and every empty New Year's Eve and/or Valentine's Day, the idea of wasted time more than crosses my mind. Sometimes, I cry. There, I said it. I cry. Don't we all from time to time? Anyone who answers 'no' to that question is a flat out liar, by the way.
Thing is, I don't want to have sex just to get it over with and start "having fun." If I starting having sex to avoid wasting time, wouldn't that be another way of wasting time? Laying down with someone just to have sex is, in effect, wasting time--there would be a lack of feeling, love, something deeper.
Conclusion: Maybe I am wasting time, but I'd be wasting time either way--having random sex or not having sex at all. What I want is love. Period.
Me: Are you seriously asking me this?
Her: You're not going to be young forever...why waste all this time when you could be having sex with guys, find out what you like, see what different guys have, you know? It's crazy. There's nothing wrong with screwing around until you find the one. You should just go pick a guy up, get crazy, and start having fun.
Me: Well, thanks for your opinion. The one I didn't ask for...why do people always do that?
Truth: With every bad date--every nightmare date--every birthday, and every empty New Year's Eve and/or Valentine's Day, the idea of wasted time more than crosses my mind. Sometimes, I cry. There, I said it. I cry. Don't we all from time to time? Anyone who answers 'no' to that question is a flat out liar, by the way.
Thing is, I don't want to have sex just to get it over with and start "having fun." If I starting having sex to avoid wasting time, wouldn't that be another way of wasting time? Laying down with someone just to have sex is, in effect, wasting time--there would be a lack of feeling, love, something deeper.
Conclusion: Maybe I am wasting time, but I'd be wasting time either way--having random sex or not having sex at all. What I want is love. Period.
Why Wednesday: Why Not Sell Your Virginity?
Me: "What part of 'waiting for love' are you missing, here?"
Friend: "I know, I know, but I'm just saying...you could do pretty well selling it, probably."
Me: "You're seriously making my hair hurt."
Friend: "You know Millionaire Man? He would've kept you, probably. He wanted to buy you stuff, take you places. He would've been good, too...you know what I mean. He'd know what he was doing, no question. He so wanted you. I would've been all over that."
Me: "Exactly what I've waited my whole life to be--a kept woman."
Friend: "I'm just saying it's an option."
Me: "No, darlin', it's not an option for me."
Friend: "I'd want to sell it."
Me, laughing: "Well, that's you...not me."
Friend: "I know, I know...you damn angel."
She meant well, I'm sure, but to me, selling my virginity is akin to prostitution. Not much difference there, at least not to me: money for sex. It would go completely against my beliefs, my desires, my dreams...everything. I've read the articles about some women here in the US and in Europe offering their virginity to the highest bidder. Bidding for one very public virgin reached $3.7 million, supposedly.
Call me crazy if you like, but no amount of money is worth compromising my soul. To each his/her own, but I don't put a price on the person I am; I don't put a price on my heart. That's just me.
Friend: "I know, I know, but I'm just saying...you could do pretty well selling it, probably."
Me: "You're seriously making my hair hurt."
Friend: "You know Millionaire Man? He would've kept you, probably. He wanted to buy you stuff, take you places. He would've been good, too...you know what I mean. He'd know what he was doing, no question. He so wanted you. I would've been all over that."
Me: "Exactly what I've waited my whole life to be--a kept woman."
Friend: "I'm just saying it's an option."
Me: "No, darlin', it's not an option for me."
Friend: "I'd want to sell it."
Me, laughing: "Well, that's you...not me."
Friend: "I know, I know...you damn angel."
She meant well, I'm sure, but to me, selling my virginity is akin to prostitution. Not much difference there, at least not to me: money for sex. It would go completely against my beliefs, my desires, my dreams...everything. I've read the articles about some women here in the US and in Europe offering their virginity to the highest bidder. Bidding for one very public virgin reached $3.7 million, supposedly.
Call me crazy if you like, but no amount of money is worth compromising my soul. To each his/her own, but I don't put a price on the person I am; I don't put a price on my heart. That's just me.
Why Wednesday: From Me-Why Do I End Up With The Weird Ones?
This week's Why Wednesday isn't one of the many "why" questions I get from friends and family regarding my life's choice to wait for love. Nope. Instead, I've got a "why" question for myself.
After recounting a couple of interesting dates, and recalling other oddities I have yet to share, I suffered a mild meltdown when I realized...I don't think I've ever really had a great date. *here's where the slight panicky feeling starts to come over me*
And it's not because I'm uber picky or have my nose stuck up in the air--that's not me. So, why? Why on earth do I seem to end up with the weirdest guys on the planet?
Now, there is nothing wrong with being different or weird, even. Heck, some people think I'm weird and different just because I have chosen to wait for love, and I'm totally okay with it. This decision does make me different...as does my serious love affair with Marc Jacobs handbags and my passion for football, NASCAR, etc. I've been called a trader to the female way of life because I happen to love handbags AND sports.
If someone isn't going to give me a chance--get to know me--and simply judge me on a life decision, then there is nothing I can do about it; I will forever be weird and different in their minds. It is what it is, and I am who I am.
But, am I wrong to think that my "uncommon" decision is vastly different from, say, howling at the moon because you're a past-life werewolf or spitting out your food on the table because you have a tricky palette? Aren't those different kinds of weird? Maybe I'm wrong.
My decision is based on the heart and on a dream, as stupid as it sounds. Does that make me the same kind of weird as the howler and the spit guy?
Maybe the bottom line is this: it's okay to be weird...you just have to find someone who is the same kind-of weird as you...or, you know, at least similar.
After recounting a couple of interesting dates, and recalling other oddities I have yet to share, I suffered a mild meltdown when I realized...I don't think I've ever really had a great date. *here's where the slight panicky feeling starts to come over me*
And it's not because I'm uber picky or have my nose stuck up in the air--that's not me. So, why? Why on earth do I seem to end up with the weirdest guys on the planet?
Now, there is nothing wrong with being different or weird, even. Heck, some people think I'm weird and different just because I have chosen to wait for love, and I'm totally okay with it. This decision does make me different...as does my serious love affair with Marc Jacobs handbags and my passion for football, NASCAR, etc. I've been called a trader to the female way of life because I happen to love handbags AND sports.
If someone isn't going to give me a chance--get to know me--and simply judge me on a life decision, then there is nothing I can do about it; I will forever be weird and different in their minds. It is what it is, and I am who I am.
But, am I wrong to think that my "uncommon" decision is vastly different from, say, howling at the moon because you're a past-life werewolf or spitting out your food on the table because you have a tricky palette? Aren't those different kinds of weird? Maybe I'm wrong.
My decision is based on the heart and on a dream, as stupid as it sounds. Does that make me the same kind of weird as the howler and the spit guy?
Maybe the bottom line is this: it's okay to be weird...you just have to find someone who is the same kind-of weird as you...or, you know, at least similar.
Why Wednesday #7: Why Not Have Sex With A Friend You Love?
Because it's not the same kind of love...at least not until, and unless, it becomes more.
Granted, I would really love for my soul mate to be my best friend--someone who knows me, someone who can read me. Honestly, I would love for a friendship to turn into happily ever after (Jeez, I'm using this phrase way too much lately--what is that about?).
The benefits of a friendship becoming more are clear: he knows me, I know him; he knows my quirks or flaws, I know his; there's nothing to hide and no pretending. It's just us, pure, raw, and real.
Unfortunately, I've had a co-worker tell me it won't happen; he believes any man who wants to be my best friend just wants to get in my pants. Maybe he's right, but I would really hate to think every man feels this way...surely there are some out there in this big old world wishing for the same thing I am.
I like to call it the When Harry Met Sally wish. Who wouldn't want to spend forever with their best friend?
Granted, I would really love for my soul mate to be my best friend--someone who knows me, someone who can read me. Honestly, I would love for a friendship to turn into happily ever after (Jeez, I'm using this phrase way too much lately--what is that about?).
The benefits of a friendship becoming more are clear: he knows me, I know him; he knows my quirks or flaws, I know his; there's nothing to hide and no pretending. It's just us, pure, raw, and real.
Unfortunately, I've had a co-worker tell me it won't happen; he believes any man who wants to be my best friend just wants to get in my pants. Maybe he's right, but I would really hate to think every man feels this way...surely there are some out there in this big old world wishing for the same thing I am.
I like to call it the When Harry Met Sally wish. Who wouldn't want to spend forever with their best friend?
Why Wednesday #6: Why Do You Need Love To Have Sex?
Answer: I reckon, you don't...but I do.
Personal opinions vary widely when it comes to sex and love. Some see love as “that thing that might” come after sex...no pun intended. Others just see sex, no strings, and certainly no love. Giving yourself to someone is no small decision.
When I look back on the personal relationships of my friends, I instantly know, for me, it's love or bust.
Let's look at a couple of examples:
High school: Puppy Love Spell (with a splash of that desperate high school need to be popular and wanted by the boys).
Over and over I'd hear friends use those three little words: I love (insert boy's name here). In high school, the word love is used loosely. Girls mistake puppy love for real love, while boys typically say love to get sex. There are exceptions, of course, but none existed in my reality.
Neva: Her ex-boyfriend's brother, Ben, was dating a lovely girl. Said lovely girl wouldn't put out. Neva put out. Ben, after talking with big brother, knew all he needed to say was that he loved her, and he'd get from Neva what he wasn't getting from his girlfriend. He staggered to her place, poor mouthed his girlfriend, and said, “I just wish I had a girlfriend like my brother had in you. I wouldn't have screwed things up like he did.” This lead to some making out. He knew he was one step closer.
The next night, he called, begging to see her. I'm sure you can guess what he said... “I think I'm falling for you, Neva.” They had sex right there on her living room couch.
According to her, it was all so perfect. Of course, all amounted to scarcely two minutes and two thrusts.
According to her, it was all so perfect. Of course, all amounted to scarcely two minutes and two thrusts.
Every night for what had to be months, he went out with his girlfriend, then later turned up at Neva's place for sex. Oh, and he said all the right things...during those two minutes of “perfect sex.” Things like: “I love you,” “I can barely breathe,” “No girl makes me feel like you do.” Blah. Blah. Blah.
I tried to tell her a million times what was really happening, but she was so in love...with a guy who was cheating on a girl he had no intention of breaking up with. Ben's girlfriend did find out...and she dumped him. Neva thought Ben would want to be with her now, but he kept crawling back to his ex, begging her to forgive him, which she did. Sadly, before she was ready, she had sex with him to keep him from wandering again, which he did. Two months later, she dumped him and was a little screwed up after giving in.
Adulthood: The Love For Money.
Dina: Dina needed men. Dina had a pension for rich men, married or single. If he had money, she latched on like gum to a Manolo. Often, she slept with men right away. She would say, “I think I love him.” Translation: “I think I love his money.”
Did I mention she had an STD? She saw sex as leverage, particularly with the married men. And oh, she was very good at getting men to believe she actually loved the person. She, herself, was used a time or two by some wealthy men, and it really hurt her...badly. Yet, she continued living her life in precisely the same manner.
Did I mention she had an STD? She saw sex as leverage, particularly with the married men. And oh, she was very good at getting men to believe she actually loved the person. She, herself, was used a time or two by some wealthy men, and it really hurt her...badly. Yet, she continued living her life in precisely the same manner.
Dina did listen to me when I'd try to help her break this cycle. She even went for a time without a man and without judging men solely by their bank accounts. But, ultimately, she was sucked in by the allure of money, eventually growing into one of those obnoxious girls who only talks money and pricey things, even with friends.
Before our friendship faded, she did say one thing I will never forget: she told me that if she could start it all over again, she would rather be in my shoes, still a virgin. I've never been so stunned. I imagine, in a way, she believes her decisions have created a kind of prison, where, in her mind, she has no choice but to carry on as before...to her, there is no going back, there is no changing paths.
To me, if you see what you've become and want to change, you will, otherwise you are who you want to be. Dina is who she wants to be. So, while Dina sits married to a man she thought had money, I remain alone, waiting for the real thing...and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Why Wednesday #5: Why Love When You Can Have Passion?
My answer is to throw a question right back: Why can't you have both?
I knew a man--we'll call him Mr. Try Hard, and, boy, did he try hard--who once told me that passion is better than love. According to him, love is messy, while passion is pure emotion, without any of the negatives. Mr. Try Hard worked overtime to convince me, he even went so far as to say he would "love me during." Good to know. Duly noted. But, um, what about before? Heck, what about after? His response: "I feel the passion for you now, and once we have one night, we'll want more...it will carry on."
Then something clicked in my brain: Ah, okay, so it comes back to lust. Passion=lust. Lust=passion. But Passion/Lust + Love = -1. Got it.
Lust is great, intoxicating really...but why can't you lust the one you love? Since when did love become a four letter word? I guess I don't understand why lust/passion and love have to be mutually exclusive.
I want them both. Is there something so wrong with that? My friends laugh, saying the two are never a package deal; either you choose love and a future or you choose lust and a moment. Rubbish. From what I have witnessed, I can honestly say that people who say such things are either: A. Afraid to love; B. Settle; C. Have less than honorable intentions; or D. Not interested in love, just lust.
To each his/her own--I understand there are varying circumstances affecting everyone's decision when it comes to the big L-O-V-E. For me, I believe both can coexist. Just imagine the possibilities when lust and love do come together...would that really be so bad? Maybe it's worth the wait after all? Just something to think about.
I knew a man--we'll call him Mr. Try Hard, and, boy, did he try hard--who once told me that passion is better than love. According to him, love is messy, while passion is pure emotion, without any of the negatives. Mr. Try Hard worked overtime to convince me, he even went so far as to say he would "love me during." Good to know. Duly noted. But, um, what about before? Heck, what about after? His response: "I feel the passion for you now, and once we have one night, we'll want more...it will carry on."
Then something clicked in my brain: Ah, okay, so it comes back to lust. Passion=lust. Lust=passion. But Passion/Lust + Love = -1. Got it.
Lust is great, intoxicating really...but why can't you lust the one you love? Since when did love become a four letter word? I guess I don't understand why lust/passion and love have to be mutually exclusive.
I want them both. Is there something so wrong with that? My friends laugh, saying the two are never a package deal; either you choose love and a future or you choose lust and a moment. Rubbish. From what I have witnessed, I can honestly say that people who say such things are either: A. Afraid to love; B. Settle; C. Have less than honorable intentions; or D. Not interested in love, just lust.
To each his/her own--I understand there are varying circumstances affecting everyone's decision when it comes to the big L-O-V-E. For me, I believe both can coexist. Just imagine the possibilities when lust and love do come together...would that really be so bad? Maybe it's worth the wait after all? Just something to think about.
Why Wednesday #4: Why Tell A Guy You're A Virgin?
There are two schools of thought regarding when, how, and if I should tell a guy/date about my virginity:
I've tried both options. I'll let you decide which turned out the best.
Option One, Wait: This is the #1 most recommended method for handling your virginity (Yeah, I know, that just sounded like some infomercial for wrinkle cream or acne wash). The general school of thought is that the guy will get to know you, appreciate you, and be more accepting, perhaps even try to stick it out. There is one slight hiccup, however: The Third Date. The third date is commonly known as "the sex date." I had been dating Bicker Dicker for about a month at this point, but, because of our hectic schedules, we had only been out on two dates (the rest of the time we were on the phone).
Third Date, Valentine's Day: After an elegant dinner, we hopped in his car and headed down the highway. It hadn't crossed my mind that this was date number three until he interrupted one of my favorite songs to play a "special" track he picked out especially for me. Okay, cute, right? The fact that his hands were shaking while he found the song should have clued me in. Damn. It was a sex song. Granted, it wasn't Bump 'N Grind, but it was distinctly sex-driven. I sat there, fairly calm, and waited for him to ask me back to his place. It never happened.
Turns out, he played the song hoping I would ask to go back to his place. Seriously. Beg for sex? Um, no. When I didn't, he put on the pout of the century, dropped me off in the middle of my icy driveway, and roared off down the road. So, there I was in brand new heels, trying to get to my door without busting my butt on the ice. Though he called three days later, acting like the attentive boyfriend (it was kinda creepy, really), I couldn't get over the fact that he left me in the icy driveway, at night, in heels.
Option Two, Tell Him: Yeah, I did exactly this before my first date with a certain man. I expected him to run. He didn't. He stalked. For over a year. Yeah.
Neither option worked out so well for me. I suppose the best thing to do is listen to your gut--if your gut says, tell him, then tell him; if you aren't comfortable telling him, wait. If he's the right one, everything will just fall into place...hopefully.
1. Wait. Let the guy get to know you--appreciate you--before telling him.
2. Tell him right away. Give the guy the opportunity to run.
I've tried both options. I'll let you decide which turned out the best.
Option One, Wait: This is the #1 most recommended method for handling your virginity (Yeah, I know, that just sounded like some infomercial for wrinkle cream or acne wash). The general school of thought is that the guy will get to know you, appreciate you, and be more accepting, perhaps even try to stick it out. There is one slight hiccup, however: The Third Date. The third date is commonly known as "the sex date." I had been dating Bicker Dicker for about a month at this point, but, because of our hectic schedules, we had only been out on two dates (the rest of the time we were on the phone).
Third Date, Valentine's Day: After an elegant dinner, we hopped in his car and headed down the highway. It hadn't crossed my mind that this was date number three until he interrupted one of my favorite songs to play a "special" track he picked out especially for me. Okay, cute, right? The fact that his hands were shaking while he found the song should have clued me in. Damn. It was a sex song. Granted, it wasn't Bump 'N Grind, but it was distinctly sex-driven. I sat there, fairly calm, and waited for him to ask me back to his place. It never happened.
Turns out, he played the song hoping I would ask to go back to his place. Seriously. Beg for sex? Um, no. When I didn't, he put on the pout of the century, dropped me off in the middle of my icy driveway, and roared off down the road. So, there I was in brand new heels, trying to get to my door without busting my butt on the ice. Though he called three days later, acting like the attentive boyfriend (it was kinda creepy, really), I couldn't get over the fact that he left me in the icy driveway, at night, in heels.
Option Two, Tell Him: Yeah, I did exactly this before my first date with a certain man. I expected him to run. He didn't. He stalked. For over a year. Yeah.
Neither option worked out so well for me. I suppose the best thing to do is listen to your gut--if your gut says, tell him, then tell him; if you aren't comfortable telling him, wait. If he's the right one, everything will just fall into place...hopefully.
Why Wednesday #3: Why Not One-Night Stand It?
This question is usually my fault; it always seems to follow one of my "32 year-old virgin" rants.
A close friend or family member will say, "Just go out and have a one night stand, if you're feeling crappy about it taking so long. You can always just get it taken care of, you know."
I'll follow with, "No, I want love."
Their response? Some version of: "I know, but maybe just get the physical part over with--it doesn't have to be perfect. Then, when you find love, you'll be past the burden of having to tell them and you can just enjoy, no nerves."
I can't honestly say their logic doesn't have some semblance of sense to it: I get the stigma off my back, I don't have to fear telling the man I'm seeing about my choice, and I would likely feel more relaxed with the one I'm in love with. Here's the catch: would I be able to look at myself in the mirror the next day? Probably not, no. Once I meet the one, would I regret not waiting for him? Yes, without question.
So, even though one night might relieve a few stresses in my life, in the long run, I'm certain it would only add more stress and regret.
I want love. Period. End of discussion. That's just me, silly as it seems.
A close friend or family member will say, "Just go out and have a one night stand, if you're feeling crappy about it taking so long. You can always just get it taken care of, you know."
I'll follow with, "No, I want love."
Their response? Some version of: "I know, but maybe just get the physical part over with--it doesn't have to be perfect. Then, when you find love, you'll be past the burden of having to tell them and you can just enjoy, no nerves."
I can't honestly say their logic doesn't have some semblance of sense to it: I get the stigma off my back, I don't have to fear telling the man I'm seeing about my choice, and I would likely feel more relaxed with the one I'm in love with. Here's the catch: would I be able to look at myself in the mirror the next day? Probably not, no. Once I meet the one, would I regret not waiting for him? Yes, without question.
So, even though one night might relieve a few stresses in my life, in the long run, I'm certain it would only add more stress and regret.
I want love. Period. End of discussion. That's just me, silly as it seems.
Why Wednesday #2: Why Couldn't You Find One Man By Age 32?
This question comes in various forms: "You mean, you couldn't just do it with one guy?" "There wasn't one man you could see yourself with?" "Not a single man could have been the one?"
Well, seeing as I'm only going to make love when it is LOVE, my choices have been slim; I haven't met many men who actually wanted love. However, there have been a few who either wanted love, but were gay or bisexual, or wanted love a little too much (i.e. the unhealthy kind). Then, there are those that are just plain full of themselves, needed to marry within a specific religion, and/or had terrible traits.
*For the record, yes, there was, at one time, one man I thought might possibly be the one, but we'll save that one for another day.*
The following is a list of "candidates" (minus the two blind dates):
2 Gay Men (loved them dearly, but I think certain areas may have been problematic)
1 Bisexual Man (gave me one of the sweetest notes I've ever received)
1 Possible Bisexual Man (I really need a man who is SURE of what he wants, ya know?)
1 Angry-Obsessive Pursuer
1 Spooky-Obsessive Pursuer
1 Xanadu-Hair Guy
1 Sex Addict Adam
1 Mormon Man
1 Cologne Butt Guy (we believe he purposely sprays his derriere with cologne)
1 Monotone Mike
1 Robot Rob
1 Pissed Off Pete
1 Temper Tantrum Tom
1 Bicker Dicker (though I love to playfully spar back and forth, this is ALL he wanted to do)
And a partridge in a pear tree.
I may have forgotten one or two, but I think you get the idea. As far as I'm concerned, the heart is the most valuable possession any human being can give to another, and I don't take giving my heart away lightly. I'm just not thinking I want to give my heart to someone who is angry all the time, someone who sprays his a** with cologne just to bend over so every woman in the room can get a whiff, or someone who, I'm sorry to say, resides in Xanadu.
Why Wednesday #1
I thought it might be fun to have a Why Wednesday, where I'll answer the endless "why" questions about, well, why I am still a virgin. Granted, I don't have all the answers...if I did, I would have the man by now and he would be gasping for breath and this blog wouldn't exist.
So, let's start with the most basic Why Wednesday Question: Why do you call yourself The Frisky Virgin?
Answer: Because, if I'm not frisky by now, then there would be a serious problem. Plus, The Bubbly Virgin is too icky-sweet; The Happy Virgin is a joke (despite being a generally happy person, I'm pretty sure in order to claim "happy," I would have to overcome the urge to pull out my hair from sexual frustration); The Satisfied Virgin--I mean, who are we kidding. The only logical description for this virgin is frisky. Grr.
So, let's start with the most basic Why Wednesday Question: Why do you call yourself The Frisky Virgin?
Answer: Because, if I'm not frisky by now, then there would be a serious problem. Plus, The Bubbly Virgin is too icky-sweet; The Happy Virgin is a joke (despite being a generally happy person, I'm pretty sure in order to claim "happy," I would have to overcome the urge to pull out my hair from sexual frustration); The Satisfied Virgin--I mean, who are we kidding. The only logical description for this virgin is frisky. Grr.
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