NOT Waiting For It

Because I'm so flat-broke, instead of my monthly girl-fest Secret Single Behavior of buying the new issues of Glamour and Cosmopolitan and slowly spending an afternoon reading them somewhere quiet with a coffee and regaining my sanity, I've been trolling their online sites to read for free, instead. Not quiet as relaxing, as I've always preferred the tangible, but it does lend something new to the experience: reader's comments.

At the bottom of "16 Sneaky Acts of Seduction," on Glamour.com, an 18 year old reader said that she felt really behind still being a virgin when other "kids my age are already having babies & stuff. i do sometimes wonder how it would feel lk to be sexualy active," and asked the other readers if she should continue waiting to have sex until she finds the right guy, or if she should "just have fun or whatever?"

In my honest opinion, if you're not having fun in life, then you're doing something wrong. And I don't think she's missing out on "having babies & stuff" at the age of 18-- that's a huge fun-dampener. But the other reader's results to her questions were of a resounding "wait for it" lean. Not to diminish their reasons, which include:

"...Your first time is hardly ever good. It hurts and you might bleed a lot,"

"If you just have fun it has it's cons. You might get attached and he doesn't want a relationship. Or you think he's one person and find out he's another. He could just use you for sex. You could be lied to and find out he has an std,"

"I think sex is so much better when you have a connection with the person. Girls like to cuddle. Girls get more attached than guys, so if you get a guy who doesn't care about you, it will be emotionally stressful,"

Or, my personal favorite, the 25 year old virgin who is getting married to her fiancee who started dating her trying to win a bet with his friends about who would have sex first back in high school. He obviously lost that one, and I really cringe to think about waiting for and then marrying the sort of guy who made a BET about getting laid, because that just screams of a relationship that is built to last and come to fruition in a marriage.

But why does there never seem to be someone saying the opposite and telling these girls that not "waiting for it" doesn't mean you're a slut-bucket who's going straight to hell in a handbasket and will never find a man who respects them?

I'm now 21 and have slept with 5 men. I've had good sex, I've had bad sex, I've had weird sex, and I've had great sex. I'd had lots of sex, and I've had really long dry spells, too. Personally, I've never regretted any of it, even given the fact that the dude I lost my virginity to was probably the worst choice in the world. Like, I couldn't have picked any better (or worse?) if I had run "How Do You Not Fit The Qualifications?" interviews for the job. (This was also the guy I couldn't be bothered to muster up the energy to break up with, if it tells you anything about our entire un-apathetic union.) But I was 16, I was sick of it, and I just wanted to get it over with. I partially chose him because he was available, and he was older, which I assumed would mean he had more experience with sex than I did. "The first time" wasn't a huge deal to me. Yeah, it did hurt, but I really hate when women try to convince other women that you are going to bleed like Old Faithful and not be able to walk for a week. Coming from my point of view, another one of those "How Are You So Not Right For This?" qualifications that my first boyfriend met was that he was basically packing a third leg. Not so great the first time, but it got much better afterwards. And I could walk just fine, thanks.

So, to re-cap thus-far, for you vestigial virgins out there: Yes, it will be uncomfortable the first few times. There may be bleeding. There may be soreness. It may be really freaking awkward. NO first-time-having-sex you will EVER have with someone new will ever be spectacular-- you don't know how the other works, how your bodies mesh, or what makes each other tick.

Yes, you may get attached to Mr. Lying, Usurious, Herpes-Laden Committmaphobe. Unfortunately, our brains have some pretty fucked-up wiring when it comes to sex and emotions, and you can never really account for who you have a connection with. (Case in point, I've had some remarkable connections with flings, while dead connection lines with committed boyfriends.) But next time you meet a lying, usurious, herp-infested player, you get smarter, and (hopefully) pass him by for someone else. Yes, it's going to be emotionally stressful, but it's all part of life and learning. You learn, your taste and judgement in men gets better, are you're more likely to end up picking someone who actually is the right person for you than pinning all your hopes and hymen on someone you don't really know deeply or intimately right out of the gate. I've come a long way since my Couldn't-Be-Bothered first boyfriend. I've learned a lot about men, and myself, and it really has changed and shaped me. If I had stuck it out and waited for Mr. Right to fall into my lap, I'd be relationship- and emotionally-stunted when he finally came around, and probably fumble him right out of my life.

And, not all girls like to cuddle. Jesus, stop with this assumption, and please, give me some space at night.

Who knows if the guy you think is Mr. Right Wedding Bells right NOW is going to be Mr. Right Forever and Always LATER? Divorce rates in the U.S are over 50%, so the chances are halved that the man you lose you virginity to, IN MARRIAGE, could very possibly not be the man you die beside and are buried next to, a la "The Notebook." Romance really has no place in the relationship between sex and marriage. Please stop reading Nicholas Sparks and start reading "Dating, Mating, and Manhandling."

Maybe I could be so blase about it because I knew it wasn't the guy that I'd be marrying, and, in fact, maybe a large part of my decision was the fact I was (and still am) pretty sure I never did want to get married. Since then, not once, not ever have I regretted losing my virginity, either at all, or to a different man then the ones I've loved. Maybe I'm just a shameless new-age hussy, but the other thing that I can't wrap my head around is that waiting for marriage is basically like buying the car without seeing if it starts or runs first. Sex is IMPORTANT. You're never going to be happy in a relation where the sex is bad, especially if it's marriage. Frankly, the only thing that the sex I've had has convinced me of is the fact that whenever I sleep with someone new, I'm thankful for my previous experiences, as they've given me the tips, tricks, and sanity to deal with pretty much whatever is thrown my way.

So maybe that makes me a slut. If it does, well then, this slut is going to be ludicrously happy having good sex for the rest of her life, and if you get stuck in a sex-less marriage because you waited for "The One" and now you're unhappy and feel cheated and want to divorce him, send me a postcard and let me know how that's going for you, ok? Great. Thanks.

XOXO

Speak Softly, But Carry A Sharp Stiletto

If all’s fair in love and war, and love is a battlefield, then that must make dating a full-contact sport. (Hehehe—yes, it is!) Like any good tactical game, it needs battle rules. Even in war, there are certain things that are strictly adhered to. Maybe I wouldn’t get myself so emotionally vanquished if I actually followed the rules that sane people must when in a relationship, rather than being a sort of kamikaze lover, quick to jump in, and finding it very hard to get out alive, let alone in one piece.

The following are rules taken from the art of war and transferred to the art of love. Although you may not always follow them, like I don’t, there’s valid points to be made, and lessons learned.

Rule of Combat #1: Don’t let down your guard. Yes, this may make me sound overly suspicious and cynical, but even when things are going great, remember, they can get worse. Enjoy the good times—cherish them—but still don’t consider yourself untouchable because everything is roses today. One day, Perfect was waking me up, asking why I didn’t respond to a text of his, as worried as women always dream men will or should be about the “little things” like communication, and texting me all throughout the day, just to stay in touch because he wanted to. Three days later, it was “I think we should just be friends because I don’t want to go to college with a long-distance relationship.” Two weeks after that, I consider myself blessed if he even returns a text.

I’m a firm believer in the jinxing of things, and if anyone jinxed Perfect and I, it was me, because I thought that if it was so great now, nothing could possibly ever change it. Then, surprise! Attack! Don’t let down that guard—be vigilant.

Rule of Combat #2: Protect your bases. I let Perfect into the places in my life way, way, too much. He made himself at home in my apartment every time he came over, which at first I thought was good, and now realize may have been jumping the gun a little bit. My own bed isn’t even a neutral space. My bedsprings squeak and my closet door only shuts half the time because of him. He showered in my shower. We both spit in the same sink side-by-side as we brushed our teeth. My linens—sheets, hand towels—used by him.

The beach, Cait’s apartment, Colchester—all Perfect-invaded territory. And my favorite Chinese restaurant? Yeah, we went there, too. I will never think of their lo mien the same way again.

Rule of Combat #3: Don’t accept new cadets without engaging in a bit of a hazing ritual. Here, “hazing” means doing a proper background check—scoping them out, both you and through their friends or other people who know them, asking them questions about themselves, and generally assessing their character.

It’s been said by Lauren Frances, author of Dating, Mating, and Man-Handling, (a book that I very much recommend,) that men will straight-out tell you their dirty little dating secret, usually within the first few times you meet them. It will be casually stated, like a joke or a self-depreciating fact, and if you’re not listening for it, you won’t catch it. It’s so true, too. Since I read her book, I’ve applied this to all the men I’ve been with. The Flaky Artist told me he was flaky and lost interest quickly. Jersey Blunt flat-out said he was a player. Legs noted that he wasn’t ready for commitment, as he was getting ready to graduate and move. And Perfect told me not once, but twice, that he had a lot of girl friends because he got along with them better. Making the leap to the fact that these “girl friends” would be interested in being more than friends wasn’t hard.

After they tell you what their Achilles’ heel is, constant vigilance will probably be required. I’m warning you now.

Rule of Combat #4: Never go into battle ill-equipped. You friends, your wardrobe, your make-up, your fitness, your diet, and your hygiene are all your weapons in the world of dating. And yes, although there may always be someone out there who is prettier than you, taller than you, has better abs than you, can afford to shop designer, or just has a bigger gun than you, take proper care of your assets. A good wing-woman is invaluable. I will do things for my friends that money couldn’t buy, whether it’s scoping out where their boyfriend is while they’re on vacation or taking one for the team at a party with a guy’s less-than-stellar best friend so they can chat Mr. Hottie up. In return, I expect my friends to do the same for me, and they always pull through—drive-by missions, tagging along with me to events, or welding car doors shut. (I’ve never really asked anyone to do that, just so you know. Though I do have a friend with a welding set who has offered her services if ever needed.)

As for your body, don’t mistreat it, and it won’t mistreat you. Watch what goes into your mouth—it’s directly proportional to what you’ll feel like afterward. Drink lots of water. Eat more fruits, veggies, and lean protein. Cut out the chemical crap if you can, or at least, cut it down. Start reading labels. They’ll shock you into changing your eating habits. Like any machine, your body has to be constantly used to run and look its best. Get to the gym. I like using the elliptical for my thighs and butt, running a mile for cardio, and doing chest presses and other weight repetitions to keep the girls in place. Look at the older women in your family—your mother, aunts, and grandmothers. That will give you a good idea of what your body will look like when you’re their age. All the women in my family could tuck their tits into the waist of their pants, so I do multiple chest presses EVERY DAY to fight gravity. My boobs will not be resting on tabletops, thankyouverymuch. If you can’t, work out at home. Take the fucking stairs. Do lunges—it seriously doesn’t get any easier than standing in one place. Also, buff and shine that body of yours. Shower, daily, please. Wash your face before you go to bed. Things settle on you while you’re out and about during the day that would terrify you to know about, so get rid of it with some soap and warm water. (If you can smell it, that means little particles of it are in the air, in your nasal passages, and on your skin. Think about this next time you walk into a bathroom.) Plus, a hot, steamy shower always makes me feel like a million bucks, especially after the gym. It’s an easy way to pamper yourself.

Dress for the shape you are, not the shape you want to be or the shape you used to be. Flaunt your assets. Figure out what’s flattering, what makes you feel comfortable, and what you’ll wear over and over and still love. A great outfit that you never get the chance to wear is a waste of money, and in today’s economy, no one can afford that. Friends come in here, again. Make sure you have one or two with great fashion sense whose taste and opinion you trust to ask if you look good in something or not. And remember—just because it’s in style, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily for you.

Personality is the deadliest weapon of all. You need to know what about you is good, fun, lovable, and society- and man-friendly. Have go-to stories that provide caveats of information about you and the kind of person you are to tell at parties. (Generally, keep the ones that involve tequila for friends’ parties, and not work parties.) If you know there’s an aspect or two of yours that are less than charming—for me, it’s jealousy and bluntness—make sure that if they rear their ugly head to address it. When Perfect told me he was sensitive, I responded with a, “That’s great that you told me, because I can be blunt, and don’t mean to hurt you.” When he sent me a text about skinny-dipping with a friend and six other girls that got my green-eyed monster out-of-control, I texted him back and said, “Hey, I know it may be no big deal, but I found myself getting a little jealous.” I owned up to him later, telling him that although it’s not a great trait to be in possession of, it’s one of mine. BE TRUTHFUL ABOUT WHO YOU ARE. If you’re not, people are going to figure it out sooner or later, and it almost never, ever goes well.

What, you may ask, does this all have to do with love and the fine art of dating? Well, these are the things that you can use to your advantage. Stun your opponent—be it the man you’re after, or a threatening other woman—with one, some, or all of these things. Remember, men don’t really see the little details; he’s not noticing the cellulite on the back of your thighs while he’s looking at the sexy hemline of your Little Black Dress. And the girl giving you nasty looks from across the room is probably wishing she had your teeth or cleavage, let alone your man. We’re all insecure, and we all have skewed views of ourselves. Other people see you differently, so put your best high-heeled foot forward.

Rule of Combat #5: It’s ok to play dirty. This can apply to being both delightfully dirty, or to being deviously dirty. Playing dirty is sexting, something that feels deliciously naughty. Playing dirty is also getting in good with his friends so that they’ll tell him (hopefully fairly regularly) how cool you are. Playing dirty is teasing him with innuendo while pretending not to notice to get his blood boiling. Playing dirty is also keeping or using mutual friends to get the inside scoop. As long as it doesn’t get too nasty—i.e: one of you is going to get hurt—it’s pretty harmless.

(P.S—On the whole “sexting” topic, which usually brings up pictures, too: I’m a firm believer in the fact that less is more. If you don’t give a man instant gratification, it’ll keep him thinking about it. Just don’t tease too much; follow through with what you promised the next time you see him. Talking about sex or talking about how turned on your are or about things you’d like to try over text or messaging is great. Phone sex—not until you’re pretty committed. He asks for pics? A few options. A picture of lingerie, not on you, will get him imagining what it looks like on you. A picture of you in some lingerie or a suggestive outfit will make him think of him taking it off of you. A naked picture—and please, don’t, but if you must, no face!—will give him about 5 minutes’ worth of thought while he whacks off and that will be the end of his thinking about you. No delicious delayed action. And I really believe men are getting things too easy these days. Make ‘em sweat a little. It’s good for them. Plus, a sweaty man is a sexy and tasty man!)

Rule of Combat #6: Be a gracious loser. If something happens, make sure to get out with your dignity intact. No one ever had anything bad to say about the person they dated who was civil, friendly, and classy when things went down-hill. You don’t hear “crazy bitch” stories like, “Oh man, yeah, I saw her the other day, and she said “hi” and genuinely asked how I was even though it was kinda awkward.” You hear “crazy bitch” stories like, “Oh man, yeah, I saw her the other day and she hid behind a fruit display.” Or, even worse, “Oh man, yeah, I saw her the other day, and she burst into tears and started screaming at me about how I killed our love. What a crazy bitch.”

Rule of Combat #7: Don’t just play dead. If you’re still kicking, kick. Fight for what you want—never surrender. No woman in the history of the world has ever felt truly happy or fulfilled because she surrendered something that she wanted. Even some of the most peaceful, loving women—think Mother Theresa, Jane Goodall, and Rosa Parks—fought for what they believed in. And you better believe you’d don’t know their names today because they just gave in and called it quits.

If you want something—speak up. If you need something—ask. If things just aren’t working—talk about it. Believe me, please, PLEASE, believe me—I know this is not easy. I am the champion of Girls Who Don’t Talk About Their Feelings, Emotions, Or What That Want Or Need, Especially To Their Men. If there is one thing that Perfect taught me that I will forever be indebted to him for, it was the fact that being a sensitive, feelings and emotions sort of guy himself, he (I don’t want to use the word “forced,” but it almost was,) asked me to open up to him and actually tell him what was going on. He wanted to know what I thought. He wanted me to know what he thought. Yes, under all that muscle and man’s man attitude, Perfect was a guy who was in touch with his feelings, and considered other people’s feelings as an important thing as well. It’s always interesting the surprises that men hide. Even in The Conversation (I have a feeling that in later years this will become known as The Conversation of June 2009), Perfect cut through all my pleasantry bullshit with a “Well, I want to know where you stand and what you think.” Even after, when he couldn’t ask me himself, he was calling Cait to see how I was.

That, my friends, is the mark of a Good Man. And that Good Man made me a Better Woman by teaching me not to be afraid of saying things like, “you know, this isn’t working,” or “something feels weird—what’s up?” Before Perfect, if a man ended with me, I waved the white flag and let depression take me prisoner. Now, I’m strong enough to say, “you know what? I’m not done. This is what still needs to happen.” I never got closure with Legs, even after our cease-fire coffee date a year later. If there is one thing I have learned since to demand, it is whatever is exactly what you need—closure, a second chance, a reason, restitution, half of everything, all your stuff back; whatever.

People get hurt both in war and in love. Emotional wounds may be harder to stop than physical ones, but they all take their toll on the victim. Fight the good fight—play the game wisely and you’ll get out both alive, and happy. Winning—the guy, the fight—is just the icing on the cake.

Good luck!
XOXO

P.S—I’m sure I’ll come up with more of these as I go along, but I have to be up and at the gym in under seven hours, so I’ll revisit this post in the future when beauty sleep is not at stake. Please stop by this post again and look for some more rules!