Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Saturday, January 5, 2008

I’ve been thinking about sex a lot lately. I’m anxious to lose my virginity just because.

I’m 17 and a junior. But I’m not talking to anyone nor am I in a relationship and I’ve never been in one before.

When am I ever going to lose it?! There’s no way I’m going to college a virgin. I barely want to be a virgin right now.

My friends aren’t. Although I doubt they even do it right.

Anyways, I think about it entirely too much. If I’d go on the pill, where, how, who?

I think about diseases and getting tested. Would I? Should I? What if I get a disease and can’t ever do it again? Or worse - what if my vagina isn’t normal? Healthy?

What’s wrong with me? God. Why do I think about this stuff? Am I the only one?

Then I think about how I’d feel after. Would I cry knowing I’d given away something I can’t ever get back? Would I be sad? Regret it? I think so...I think all three.

I wonder if Kim loved the person she lost it to, which my guess is Allan. But anyways, is it really that huge of a deal? I wonder.

I feel nothing. Sometimes that happens to me. I just feel nothing inside, and if I do feel something, I don’t know what it is or how to interpret myself.

I don’t even know myself and I expect other people to.

But I think that’s what life and love is all about. Finding someone who knows you and knows you better than you’ll ever know yourself, and let them teach you about everything - you, them, love, laughing and living.

Sounds easy, but sometimes I feel like we’re stuck here forever where no one knows which end is up.

I’m falling dead asleep and I’m thinking and writing random garbage. I’m soooo tired. I’m dying.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Hey Jill,

It’s you again, eight years into the future. You made it to 25, despite your four-year Tour de France of drinking in Tallahassee. I’m proud of us; we done okay so far.

Anyways, you seem to be awfully stressed out about sex (or the lack thereof) and losing your virginity. With almost a decade of more life experience than you, I figured I’d drop by and try to ease your nerves a bit.

The first thing I want to tell you is that right now, in your life, everyone is preoccupied with sex - thinking about it, talking about it, having it, lying about having it, popping their cherries, taking someone else’s, whatever. It’s high school and you live in a small town. It’s normal.

 So, to answer one of your many questions: No, you most definitely are not the only one who thinks about it/thinks about it this much. Don’t worry.

Second of all, you do not go to FSU a virgin, not that that would have necessarily been so bad. But in exactly four months, you will have your long-awaited sexual awakening. I know it seems like an eternity to your impatient, hormonal, 17-year-old brain, but just sit tight. It’s coming. (Pun very much intended.)

And when it does, you won’t cry. You won’t feel sad. And you won’t regret it.

You still don’t. And you are eternally grateful for that.

He isn’t your boyfriend, but he is your friend. Someone you can laugh with and trust. You don’t love him and you never will, and the same is true for him about you. But it isn’t a big deal, to answer another question. And despite both of you being nervous and a little awkward (as well as inebriated), it will always be a funny story and fond memory.

Of course, your lady bits are completely normal and healthy. You have the standard plumbing down there and everything works just fine. Take a deep breath. Relax. You’re thinking about it too much.

 Kelso: I've been reading Cosmo. It's very educational. I never realized how much plumbing girls had down there. There's this diagram, and it's like a map of Six Flags.

Kelso: I've been reading Cosmo. It's very educational. I never realized how much plumbing girls had down there. There's this diagram, and it's like a map of Six Flags.

Kelso: I've been reading Cosmo. It's very educational. I never realized how much plumbing girls had down there. There's this diagram, and it's like a map of Six Flags.

When it’s over, you both agree that you neither of you will tell anyone and you naively believe that he will uphold his end of the bargain.

Years later he tells you that he called his best friend the moment he left your house.

Duh. This is boys and high school, Jill. Get your head out of your ass.

//

In college you realize, perhaps more so in retrospect, that sex is easy. It’s the relationships that are tough.

While your friends and roommates scream and cry and fight and break up and make up and often stay in on Saturday nights, you remain the token Single One in your group. Which, of course, comes with a territory: You’re a hot, hot mess.

You write a lot. You drink even more. You eat even less.

Still, you have a fucking blast.

You don’t fall in love for the first time for another five years when you’re 22. Which turns out to be one of the best things that could happen to you, though throughout those five years it doesn’t always seem like it.

You’re often lonely. You often wish to have someone or be in a relationship or even just be “talking” to someone. Sometimes you’re jealous of your friends who have that companionship.

But, you also thoroughly enjoy being single and, as it turns out, are never really interested in anyone. Because everyone sucks. A sentiment you still proudly hold onto today.

 Livin' young & wild & free

Livin' young & wild & free

Those first three years of flying solo at FSU is a blessing. You do exactly what you want to do, when you want to do it, guilt and care-free. You never sacrifice something you want to do in favor of a significant other’s preference. Your guy drama is minimal, your relationships non-existent, and because of that, you manage to never get your heart decimated.

Most importantly though, it gives you the time and space to figure out who you are on your own. Right now, at 17, you said you expect others to know you when you don’t even know yourself (which is a pretty poignant and precocious observation for a 17-year-old, if I do say so myself). It takes some time, but you figure it out.

I’m proud of you. Of us. In high school and college especially, it’s tempting to jump into a relationship because everyone else is coupled up, or because you’re lonely, or because you don’t know yourself and think that being in a relationship will help bring you that clarity.

But from what I’ve observed throughout the years is that often times people who get into relationships for the latter reason end up losing themselves. “I” becomes “we.”

   Ted:  Marshall and I haven't done something, just the two of us, for so long. Ever since he got married, he's turned from an "I" to a "We".    Barney:  What do you mean?    Ted : Think about it.    Ted:  [Flashback] Hey, haven't seen you all week. How you doing?    Marshall:  We're doing great.    Ted:  Did you watch the Jets game?    Marshall:  We most certainly did.    Ted:  How'd things go at the doctor?    Marshall:  We no longer have a hemorrhoid problem.

Ted: Marshall and I haven't done something, just the two of us, for so long. Ever since he got married, he's turned from an "I" to a "We".
Barney: What do you mean?
Ted: Think about it.
Ted: [Flashback] Hey, haven't seen you all week. How you doing?
Marshall: We're doing great.
Ted: Did you watch the Jets game?
Marshall: We most certainly did.
Ted: How'd things go at the doctor?
Marshall: We no longer have a hemorrhoid problem.

From the little experience I have, I can tell you that you’re right, young Padawan. Love is a lot about learning things from the other person. If you’re lucky, they do teach you about yourself. But they shouldn’t have to tell you who you are. And you shouldn’t look to them to figure it out.

It isn’t easy to find, as you accurately predict, which is why it takes another five years until you discover the big L word. Until then, you just ride the booty train (again, pun totally intended). And in spite of many opportunities to feign the feeling of love with a handful of guys, you never settle just to have someone. You wait for the real thing. And for that, I say we’re pretty bad ass.

Lastly, how do you go from poignant and precocious insights about life and love to, “I’m soooo tired. I’m dying.”?

Go to sleep, you bi-polar teenager.

Love,
You