If I were to admit that I reached age 32 without having sex, one might call me shockingly virginal.
If I confessed to having 3 men in some state of serious undress in my bed on the first, second and third dates, all within the span of about 2 weeks, one might call me a bit of a hussy.
I could argue with neither as both are true.
The most common question, of course, is why?
The first answer, for longtime readers, makes a sort of sense. I'm wildly introverted, trust few people and would rather acquaintances work for my attention so I'm able to grudgingly let them know me. And while I find sex and intimacy completely fascinating, it also seems important. A profound connection with someone you love, at least in some variation of the word. So while I don't judge those who indulge in sex of the less profound variety (and rather like hearing stories, actually), I've not been able to do it.
And, so, well, I've not done it.
Despite long-suffering crushes and some reasonably serious (in that they lasted a long time, not in that there was physical stuff) relationships, I've remained untouched.
As for the second part, I decided, apropos of aging, that it was time to gain some experience. Perhaps, I decided, it would make me less neurotic! Or outgoing or settled or sure of what I wanted in terms of romantic relationships. After all, I didn't ever decide not to have sex. It was more like I neglected to engage in it. So with a little focus, I set about accomplishing my goal.
It started in October (or maybe September - I don't tend to procrastinate when there's an important task to complete) and I'd soon identified a likely candidate and acquired some very nice lingerie. I began reading Cosmo again to brush up on my 'how to' knowledge and invited a complete stranger to spend the weekend at my house. (I reasoned that it was mostly like getting a massage. And instead of money for a backrub, we'd exchange orgasms and call it 2 days well spent.)
He came. Things happened (I'll tell you tomorrow - I have it written out). And he left about an hour after he arrived, neither of us having accomplished the stated objectives.
Then there was Will (and, simultaneously Doug). (Not in that there were 3 of us together, but in that I was dating both of them during the same weeks in time.) And while there were several desperately sexy encounters with Will, there was not intercourse. I can sum it up by saying I wanted but didn't feel I should.
It's the exact opposite with Doug. I feel I should - he's attentive and sweet and supportive and wonderful - but the desire isn't there. I love him - think he's adorable and funny - but I panic when I think of him inside me. I just can't. So now we're friends. Which means we still go to dinner and I give him rides to the airport at 4AM and he brings over dinner and wine but we don't kiss goodnight.
"What's up with the boys?" Sibling asked last night over dinner and I opened my mouth to answer and closed it before shrugging. Because I don't know.
She asked if I might be pregnant as I've been rather tired and moody of late and I smiled and shook my head, oddly flattered that she thinks I'm normal enough to have sex.
On the off-chance that writing this out helps me understand it better, I'm telling sexy stories. And, I suppose, opening myself for questions or suggestions. (Other than 'why?' because I'm not sure that I know.)