July 11, 2002
Internal Chaos
When I think about sex I think about a girl named Anna.
I graduated with her. Our senior year she got a serious boyfriend, a few years older than her, named Todd. He was tall and squashy and she worshipped the ground he walked on, and he her.
I remember her passing notes in Spanish class with Jadyn and Tracy. I remember overhearing their context, most of it being centered around whether or not she should sleep with Todd. She was a virgin.
They had sex. She used to put little hearts in her agenda on the days when they did it. Three or four days a week.
And then I remember her boasting, showing us all her agenda and it had been weeks since a little heart had graced its pages. She smiled, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, and explained.
"We're being good."
And I remember being so struck by that statement, one that still rings with the same giggle in my mind. Being good? So sex is bad? There is guilt there, or shame, or a sense of wrongness. There must be. Once you've done it, what is the point of abstaining from doing so? Most especially on the premise of behaving in a 'good' manner?
When I have sex, it will always be on my best behavior.
And I suppose that sounds a bit like a joke and in a way it is. Then on a totally different plane it is far from. I don't want to feel guilty. I don't want to feel shamed. I don't want to feel as though I had done something wrong.
I know she had to feel that way. Maybe she didn't realize it.
They're probably married now.
I'll get married someday. I honestly don't know if I'll be a virgin when it happens. I would like to think that I will be. But I can't say that I'm sure. I've changed in a year, and I am sure to change in the many years that are ahead of me. I would hope, in all actuality, that I begin to be a little less averse to the idea of sex. I can see me being the girl bawling her eyes out in the shower, never having enough soap. I'm scared of sex. Deathly fucking terrified of it. Maybe it's the way I was raised. Maybe I've watched too much Jenny Jones. Maybe I'm just a frigid bitch.
I wonder sometimes if my aversion stems from a compromise of my principles or a violation of deep seated emotional problems.
I guess I'll figure it out someday.
Don't ask what brought this on. I'm sure it is something to do with Mike being a card carrying member of the non-virgin club, and the fact that he is pushing all the right buttons with me. And maybe it doesn't have anything to do with any of that. I just think about things sometimes. And sometimes, most times, I don't have any answers.
I argued with my Dad tonight. I was going to call Mike when I got off work, and he freaked out. I was immediately thrown back to a year ago, to the horrendous fights, to the tension, to my former closed mind.
I regret last year.
I don't want that again.
And I think, Mike is different. I think, we've only been dating for a week. I think, I'm more mature and I know what I'm doing and this boy is smart and considerate and I recognize all the good traits and I can make my own decisions and I'm going to college and I've changed so much.
And I think that last year I though almost along these same exact lines. I think, o, God, don't let me make the same mistakes. O, God, please say I wouldn't do that again. Please say this isn't stupid happy.
Please say he's different. Please say I'd notice if he were.
Last year I did what I wanted. Nothing they said changed anything. And while I don't like to think of Ryan or our relationship, I realize that it helped shape a lot of things about me. I am more mature.
Do other people go through their lives alone just to avoid fucking up big time with the opposite sex?
I can't afford to fuck up. I don't have the time. And he's too good to fuck up with.
Would I notice? Do you think I would notice?
I have too much on my mind.
Don't let me compromise me. Not again.
astera at 10:56 p.m.