Tag Archives: virgin

The Unemployed Philosopher

22 Sep

This is more a story about one of those guys that sneaks up on you and morphs into something entirely unexpected before you really have much of a chance to realize what’s happening. The Unemployed Philosopher is one of those guys no body “gets.” You’ve met them, a little odd, kind of douchy, aloof. If you are a girl like me you take one glance and want to punch them just so you don’t have to hear their voice, but you assume such an action would just bring on another long-winded conversation around the human race’s need to inflict pain on one another to feel powerful and dominant, yada yada. TUP is one of those…until you get to know him. Which probably explains why at 27 he was still a virgin, but we’ll get back to that.

TUP and my friend the Seaman from high school (you know, the one getting married to SMC) have known each other since elementary school. He was always a name I had heard here and there so I knew he existed, but we had never met. Until last year. That is when SMC wanted me to help her throw a surprise party for the Seaman’s 27th birthday. We planned it for a couple weeks and she asked me if I knew him. I told her the tale, which wasn’t much, and she took it from there. The day of the party she gave him my number since she was going to be with the Seaman prior to the surprise and we were all meeting at Dave and Busters. The texts prior and the party that night further convinced me he was just what I expected him to be, but I did think his brother was rather adorable (that’s important-ish later).

Months go by and nothing of note to this particular story occur. Well, other than he Seaman and SMC getting engaged. I guess that’s kind of a big deal. Especially since SMC’s psycho mother decides to throw an engagement party. The bridal party was invited and as I was asked to be a bridesmaid and TUP asked to be a groomsman, we both attended. TUP also brought his brother interestingly enough, and despite my attempts to flirt discreetly I was apparently not as undercover as I suspected I was.

Facebook being the great connector to people you wouldn’t otherwise speak with, created a little circle of connections around the upcoming nuptials. About a week after the party, I was feeding my addiction to the website, and TUP messaged me rather unexpectedly. He started by calling me out on flirting with his brother and this led to an extended conversation into the wee hours of the morning. I thought little of it, but I felt after this that perhaps I had misjudged his character. We had a lot in common and this was surprising to me. I also discovered his tendency to be more than a little honest, he didn’t seem to hide much and I respected that.

There were a few more conversations similar to that one which led me to believe his motives were not entirely based on developing a purely social relationship, and then he told me he wanted to sleep with me and my suspicions were confirmed. Surprisingly for me by that point I wasn’t opposed to the idea.

Enter my birthday.

Every year it turns into a week long extravaganza during which I roam from town to town celebrating with all my different circles of friends. This year when I was making plans with my friends back home, one of my priorities was including TUP. He ended up joining a few of us on a bar hop in Providence. Alcohol, good friends, and ending the night in a dark and dingy club created a feeling of euphoria, as it often does, and he and I ended up wandering the streets on our own in search of pizza (which we never found).

It wasn’t until sitting on the stairs under a flickering street light when he told me he’d never been with a woman that I decided he was my newest project. I liked him, I had admitted that to myself, and the addition of having that unique aspect of power and control sealed the deal. It helped that I found the ease with which I could make him uncomfortable amusing. Straddling his lap, between kisses, I told him all the things I would teach him and I could feel his excitement building.

Sidebar. Recounting this now, I realize how much it resembles a harlequin romance novel. Oops.

We went back to the car and found an empty lot off the beaten path. Under the stars (yes we went outside, the hood of his car seemed more interesting than the back seat), we kissed and disrobed, and I realized just how much work I had committed to, but it was fun and felt a tiny bit dangerous. Before we could actually engage in the big finale, however, TUP noticed another car had pulled into the lot and after hastily replacing out clothing, we jumped back into the car. I had a big laugh, he was not as amused and didn’t get quite the same rush, but he was a trooper. He brought me back to my car and we said good night.

I went to Arizona for the rest of the week (post to come) and so it was another week until any plans could be made to make good on my newest life goal.

I got back on the following Monday and invited him over for some Monday night football. Living in RI and being unemployed (don’t judge), this was not the simplest of tasks, but he managed to find a way and despite the traffic, survived the trip. The night was, eventful, more for him than for me. He was a virgin, I didn’t expect much, and we had some fun. It was simple. Very by the book, but I liked that we could laugh and joke around about the awkwardness for him and the challenges presented for me. It was refreshing to not have to be “on” and in the game since I was literally the best he’d ever had.

The next morning was just as easy and simple. We went for another round, took showers, I made breakfast, we went for a walk around Salem since he’d never been and we just talked. One of his friends texted him at some point to ask how it went, and he let me respond which I found amusing as well.

After he left I really felt that there was a connection. I wanted more time with him. I wanted to make something out of the raw materials he presented. We shared an honesty, a need to remove ourselves from the pressure society puts on us to be in a mold. I believed there was a mutual respect and understanding in the personality aspects we both held that often reflected negatively with other people. It was promising and then some.

Its been a couple weeks since that moment. I haven’t seen him and our conversations are not nearly as intriguing and insightful more often than not. Reality has set in. He’s unemployed, far away, and difficult to be spontaneous with. Even if I were to put aside the fact he’s never had a girlfriend and doesn’t react the way I expect to my womanly snares, it seems I am falling into my regular pattern after the bubblies of a new possibility die down. It is interesting how every time I truly believe I won’t find a reason to end up here, and every time I’m not all that surprised that I do.

Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me. He was a big enough deal to feel the need to write this. Maybe I’m being harsh. Maybe I really am being realistic. Only time will tell.

Sexuality…what’s in a label?

13 Nov

The conversation of sexuality is s hot button topic, at least where I come from. I grew up in the Protestant church where intimate sexual experiences were sacred and intended for a marriage between a man and a woman. When I was a teenager and beginning to feel the tingling sensations between my legs when a cute boy walked by, I bought in, practiced self-restraint, made vows to stay a virgin until that ring was on my finger. Of course, I never dated in high school. I said it was because I didn’t know what real love was and didn’t want to run the gambit of failed relationships before my heart could handle it, but lets be honest, I was the shy, awkward girl who no one wanted to date anyway.

College was a different story. I went to a smallish Christian school north of Boston. Freshman year I became the bright, bubbly, outspoken, and at times obnoxious girl I never had been but always knew I could be. My vow of celibacy, however, remained intact, even after I met Mr. Wrong towards the end of my first semester. Mr. Wrong, despite many shortcomings in our relationship, taught me the meaning of love. My heart felt alive and I wanted to sing from the mountaintops and all that jazz. We toyed with the boundaries of intimacy and pushed against the lines we said we wouldn’t cross. Seven months later on the fourth of July, my desire for a closer bond with my companion ousted my vows of purity and we had perfectly boring and awkward sex. [On a side note, I’m convinced two virgins doing this together for the first time is both extremely smart and extremely dumb. Smart in that both of you feel the same amount of awkward. Dumb in that neither of you know what the hell you are doing.]

Since this sexual awakening, I have been through the whole realm of emotions around it. While I was with him, I was convinced I was going to marry him, which made the act, if not justified, excusable. We felt a closer connection and so what if we went a little ahead of schedule. After the break up, the shame I had been taught to feel kicked in. I beat myself up about it for a couple months, until I kicked myself in the hiney and decided it was time to stop moping. I started rebelling against all of it, starting with my guy friends. I don’t know why, but sleeping with guys I had no romantic feelings for, but knew I could trust was a stepping stone I was ok with jumping on, literally. Liquor helped, but that is a whole other story.

I was numb from the relationship still at this point and men were toys. I felt some guilt, but the more it happened, the less I felt. It was a coping strategy and an unhealthy on at that. My male friends didn’t mind so much, but it became a game to them too. It wasn’t until my first one night stand that I started to see how out of control I was getting. I wish I could say that was my wake up call, but it wasn’t that easy. A few more mistakes later and then a morning after where I had to drive a guy home I had picked up in Cambridge [to this day I still do not remember his name and he is dubbed “Clay Aiken” because that is who my roomy swears he looked like] it finally hit me.

I always say I live my life without regrets, but by that point there were a couple things I wished I could take back. Sex had become a toy, a way to feel connected to someone without actually putting in any effort. It became meaningless and easily exchangeable for love. I was not and still am not at the point where I believe sex has to be a sacred act saved for the bonds of marriage, I’m not even positive I want to get married, but sex is also more than what I had turned it into and I wanted to get back some of that magic that made it so special on the fourth of July so long ago. I have come to understand sex in a way I was not raised to understand it, but there is some validation in the things I was taught. As a society we have minimized its importance and meaning, made it something to be thrown around and abused. Even now, I am still culpable in this, and continue to get drunk and horny and make bad choices. It’s a learning curve.

I have veered off my initial subject, however. I wanted you to understand my sexual journey, and that is all the pertinent information, but it did not end there. In the church, we were also taught that man and woman were made for one another. Sex was not only designated specifically for marriage, but specifically for man and woman to experience with one another, and one another alone. In my sexual awakening, as I like to call it, despite how cheesy it sounds, I not only pushed the boundaries of sex outside of love, but sex outside of the designated genders as well. A drunken kiss at a bar with a girl led to full on same-sex make out sessions. My first sexual encounter with a girl was with my roommate and her boyfriend, maybe it felt better having a buffer. Since then, it hasn’t been an issue. I have the unique ability to not really feel shame about my actions these days. I am a pro at just going with the flow. And sometimes the flow leads me into a woman’s pants.

Straight, gay, bi-sexual, bi-curious…labels, for what? Sexual preference? “Hi, my name is ‘Lesbian’, what’s yours?” Does it matter? What if some of us are just sexual? I envision myself, if I ever get there, married to a man in a brownstone apartment in Boston, but right now, I like to have sex, and sometimes I like to have sex with girls. I don’t feel the need to shout this from the mountaintops. “Coming out” has never crossed my mind because I don’t feel there is anywhere for me to come out of. Sex is sex…but I could legitimately date a girl and feel the same way. My parents may never know, but they don’t even know that I smoke, or when I’m dating a new guy. There are things they would not understand about my life because they are of a different generation, a different school of thought, and our relationship does not suffer because there are things I choose not to fight about. I choose not to have a label. I don’t need the bonds of camaraderie that come with sharing in a community of a certain sexual preference. I don’t feel the need to push my values on any other person by the automatic straight/gay debate that is necessary for some people. I am who I am, and I am happy with who that is. I do not feel oppressed or forced into any mold. My friends accept me for who I am and don’t care what gender I bring home from the bar. The ones who do judge me are not my friends and I feel no need to associate with them.

So what is in a label? Why do we feel the need to tack on extras to our name and validate our choices? Are we that uncomfortable just being who we are?

PS I liked this post a lot on a similar subject