Chapter 18: Sex (Sparknote for my Evolving Thoughts on Love at Twenty-one years of Age)

My, my. How a bit of serotonin can change your entire mindset in a heartbeat. That, and finding the love of your life helps, too.

I lived most of my entire life afraid of sex, I think. It was one of the four great taboos that as a kid I mustn't never ever ever do. Drinking, smoking, drugs, and sex. That's what everyone always warned me about, that's what they always taught in schools. To this day, I still haven't done a single one of the four.

It's interesting because, as much as it seems like society has become so casual with regards to those things, all my life I've been 100% adverse to it. My complete disinterest surpasses simply not doing it - I can honestly say that I've never felt a single temptation or slight urge to drink or smoke or take some any sort of drug. So, why's that worked with me, but (seemingly) not with the average American teen?

I think part of it, perhaps the biggest part, stems from being a complete health freak. Not that you'll ever see my visually neurotic in public, but I've always been the kind of guy who'd actually think about cost-benefit in terms of how'd it affect my lifespan. -I'm deathly afraid of death, by the way. Or at least I used to be.- So given that, any of the aforementioned three were out of the question - the thought of losing several years off of my life terrified me far beyond any temptation I would have had, if I were ever to have any at all. Personally, the public education system did a great job hammering in the health effects with fear tactics - it hit right where I was preoccupied with the most, especially I think those late elementary-early middle school years, and as far as I was concerned the first image I ever saw of a cancerous lung was enough to turn me off smoking, and all the related health ills, for life.

Sex, however, was different. Well of course, you'd say - smoking or drinking or drugs may not be a universal cup of tea, but everbody, everbody likes sex. But I'm not sure if that's true. Certainly, I think everyone has an interest in it to some extent, but it's not a priority, or even a conscious "I want it" thought of a lot of people. I think a lot of people, notably the anti-social engineering nerd types, just don't have a huge unbearable temptation to engage in it, at least relative to most others. Yet for some reason, despite falling into that same non-social classification and being so disinterested in all the other big societal ills, I've always found myself immensely interested and tempted by it. And what's held me back? Fear.

Unlike smoking or drinking or drugs, the health detriments of sex aren't so inevitable or catastrophic. If you stayed with a single person, diseases weren't really such a big deal as they were made out to be, and that great white shark of STDs, colloquially known as "babies", had numerous measures like birth control and condoms and all of that great stuff. And, aside from the point a bit, what was ever so wrong with having a baby anyway? A digression I won't get into, but a nice point to ponder in the context of mainstream society's view.

So, I don't think I ever really worried about that side of things, not really. What scared me the most about it was that, while I was still growing up and regarding it as the super-sacred coveted grand act of true love and affection, sex (and all the other activities branched down from it) was becoming casual and rampant, and increasingly so as I moved from middle school to high school. I never minded that people were that way - it was simply a different lifestyle and ideal from who I was. But the part that scared me was how many people seemed to be so... open and casual towards the physical aspects of a relationship, and even more so, how people seemed to change so easily the moment a hot guy or girl, who never cared for them a moment in their life otherwise, came along and decided they wanted them. My greatest fear of sex, and all physical activities, was that it would be casual. That a kiss or a touch or sex would happen, and while it'd mean the world to me, it'd be casual, it'd be just another thing for whoever it was that I'd happen to have fallen for at the moment. And that, since it'd be so casual, she'd have no problem being detached, and that kiss would be just a kiss that happened long ago, not the first but just another in a long series. And I'd be left, putting the weight of the world on it, because your first kiss has to mean something. But does it, when to the other person it means... nothing?

Even more frightening than that, was the prospect that I would become the same way. That after my very first time, if things didn't work out, I'd become disillusioned, and well you've already lost your first kiss virginity, and your making-out virginity, and well since it's happened already it really doesn't matter if it happens again, and again, and again or with who. And a kiss by itself, or sex by itself, wouldn't mean anything, because the one time you thought it did, or it might have, you found out awhile later with some retrospect that it didn't.

For that reason, I always wanted to wait for sex (and most everything else), until I had found the person I knew was going to be the one, and she was ready and we were ready to make that eternity commitment. Because I knew I'd find the person, eventually. And when I did, I never wanted to look at her and tell her I loved her, all the while realizing it wasn't the first time I had said it. But you didn't mean it the first time! No, you did. At the time you say it, you always mean it, you always feel like you could be with the person forever and nothing'd ever go wrong. But the heartbroken soul of any long-lost lover will tell you that it just isn't true. That you'll feel that way now, and feel like it as long as you're together. But when things go wrong, things are over, and you get over her. And you realize that, no, you never really "loved" her in the first place; if you did, you wouldn't be over her.

What's wrong with saying "I love you" more than once? It's true; the moment you say it the second time, you never meant it the first time. But by virtue of not having meant it any time, it's opened up the possibility of another failed relationship. You could feel strongly enough to say it to the person you've currently fallen for, but then again you felt as strongly about the person you fell for before, who turned out to definitely not be the love of your life. No, you can't say it's "different" this time, because you've used the exact same terminology to refer to someone else before. Anything special this time around has to be validated through other aspects - meaning that the simple statement holds no real meaning anymore. It'll never be the same as dating a whole lot of people, but saving the words until the very end, for the person you really knew was it. Then you could say, the words mean something, because it's the only person in your life who you've been able to say them to.

...

That was the logic that used to carry me. For more than a month I've been with the... girl of my dreams. She's ideal in every way, and that part I can honestly say because she's the first girl I've ever met and fallen for who... has no perceptible faults. Even in the past, no matter how madly I had fallen for the person, there was always something, a bit of personality or behavior that I didn't like, that just didn't fit with me. Of course, being infatuated and all, you mask those sorts of things in your deep and blinding attraction, but the fact that it, some incompatibility, exists alone means the person isn't 'perfect', despite your every attempt to use that descriptor. It's not any kind of deal breaker (except when things end badly - then it's the thing you've always hated the most about the person), but it's definitely there.

The reason I've fallen completely head over heels for her? Not because she's pretty and whitty and bright and amazing, or that she's the visible personification of absolute perfection. It's not that she's the ideal woman, although she very well may be, but that she's my ideal woman. As much as I find myself completely attracted to her in every way, including modes and extents that I never imagined before, every time I see her I get the feeling that she's just as attracted and head-over-heels for me, more than I even know. For the past month, she's spent every moment she possibly could with me, something I was, and wanted in return so badly, the first time. She seems to be every bit my companionate love, the one I've been writing about all these years. Do I want her to be the witness to my life? Yes, of course, I've always wanted that, from someone. The thing is, she's the first one I ever felt could actually become that person.

And so perhaps, that's the reason I've been so at ease with all of the physical aspects. I've been waiting for marriage all this time, but in reality, marriage was an arbitrary level of commitment - to "know" that the person you're with, really is the one, and is going to be the one, forever. So what if you've met the one, and you're all set to decide that she's the one you want to be with, no matter what? Is it alright to go on with all of the physical aspects then? I don't see anything wrong with it.

Except maybe one thing. How she feels. I know what she'd told me, and I know everything that's happened these past few weeks. But the only person's true feelings I know are my own, at least for now. And while everything's fallen into place like the dream I dreamed, gave up on, and dared to dream again, realistically, it's been barely a month. A month to fall in love? It took me barely a week, and I'm sure she was taken aback and at least a bit doubtful when I said it.

Oh yes, I said it. And I mean it this time. :o) Mean it as in, I don't just love her, even if that's all that I told her then. She's the love of my life, and I know already she's the one I'd want to live every moment of the rest of my life with. I mean I love her because she's my favorite person in the world, the only one I'd ever want. And if there were an after, I don't know if I could live with anyone else at all. Because anyone else in the present, even to the love of your life in the distant, would always be second best.

So where does that leave me and my conundrum? Up until recently, I was still feeling the same way I had always felt. And I was nervous because I could feel myself getting drawn in, unable to resist or restrain myself, and yet, not knowing why. Did I suddenly lose all of my apprehensions, and that moral decency, when the opportunity presented itself? I think, perhaps, everything's the same as it's always been. The temptation and desire's been there, and with someone like her, how could it not? But paradoxically, it's that very thing - her forwardness, which has quashed all my apprehensions and worries. Even aside from the physical, she's been aggressively and passionately devoted, far more than I am. Dare I say, I've been one-upped in romanticism? The amazing thing is, she's made me secure and comfortable with all of it - every aspect of a relationship, every apprehension, and every bit that I ever used to worry myself over.

I don't know my answer, just yet. I have a feeling that it'll happen when it's meant to happen. For now, every tomorrow is a page yet to be written. And every today makes me more and more sure that this is the one book I never want to put down.