It’s important that you understand that this is simply a
flow of thoughts. No specific rhythm or making of sense intended…
As I sit here rubbing my eyelashes that still bear the
mascara of yesterday, I am deliberating on what I want to write about, so in
the midst of my indecisiveness, I have decided to write about how intoxication
makes girls scream and my increased annoyance of the word “relationship.”
Growing up, I was taught that I was supposed to stay a
virgin with such urgency, that to stray away from that would only lead me to
death and then Hell. As a matter of fact, losing my virginity to someone other
than my husband would lead me to somewhere below Hell, because it was something
even Satan himself would find vile. As a result, me, my virginity and its
container Fancy Nancy (I’m still working on a name for her) have created a
special bond. I’m convinced that if I lose my virginity that I will have
nothing left in this world. It’s like, when I have no one else, she’s
there…she’s my pride and joy and any woman over the age of 18 who has yet to
experience any type of sexual act should understand exactly what I mean. I
remember when I was ashamed of being a virgin because it was the cool thing to
go out and hump any and every thing that crossed your path, even if that meant
claiming bisexuality or homosexuality because specific sexual desires weren’t
being satiated by people of the opposite sex or other inanimate objects. It
took several friends who lost their virginity at a young age, to convince me that still having mine was something to be proud of, and if they could do it over,
they would still have theirs. Somewhere between the spring semester of my
senior year in high school and the beginning of my freshman year of college, I
found peace with the idea of me never having a sexual encounter- not even so
much as a kiss.
Lately though, (especially when I’m intoxicated) my girl
Fancy Nancy has been singing sonatas of being rejected and lonely and how she
needs attention from some husky Southern gentleman who knows when not to be so
gentle lol. It’s horrible y’all. I may be walking across campus and then she
starts a screaming and singing the blues and I have to stop for a few seconds
to get my life together before continuing my voyage from wherever to wherever.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I want to have sex because I know I’m one of
those females who will be on that BS every time. Even though I've never had the
“privilege” of being caught in one of those situations where I've had to pull
the “I’m not that type of girl” or “I don’t love you, so I can’t” I know that I
would…every single time. *makes forever alone face* Most times I just want to
be held and told how wonderful I am. No
kissing, rubbing, none of that…it’s not even necessary. When I smile, Fancy
Nancy is satisfied and the world is at peace until she finds it imperative to
make herself known again. That leads me to my second topic, which is totally
unrelated but been on my mind lately: relationships.
This word, relationships sounded so sweet to me a year and
some months ago when I was entering the pearly gates of college life. I was
floating on clouds with the conviction that I was going to meet a wonderful guy
who was going to be my boyfriend all four years of college and we were going to
be a wonderful couple and then graduate and get wonderfully married, just like
my mother and father…WRONG!! I wasn't even talking to anyone until January and
we rushed things and our relationship was done by the end of March. Now that I
think about it, it wasn't even much of a relationship because I never kissed
him or gave him so much as a hug lol. I guess I wanted a boyfriend so bad that
I gave myself permission to settle for something that I knew wouldn't be good
for me in the long run. There are some behaviors that were displayed in that
situation that cause me to step completely to the left of life if a guy I am
talking to displays even a hint of the same conduct. I try not to make this guy
pay for what the last guy did, but it’s easier said than done.
After dealing with the second situation, which is slowly but
surely getting back to its friendship aspect, I told myself that I am just not
a relationship person. I've been telling myself that the whole idea of someday
wanting a family is no longer a part
of life, but simply an option. I
think I finally convinced myself that I want to do so much with my life that a
husband and kids is almost out of the question. I wouldn't dare tell my mother
and grandmother that, I think they’d have a fit, mostly because it’s my
“destined” responsibility to stop the cycle of broken and short-lived
relationships that have plagued my family’s women from generation to
generation. I’m nineteen though, and thinking about “forever” with anyone would
be almost everything except logical and mature thinking, especially since I
have life plans that have no loose seams that could possibly wiggle free enough
to fit anyone else. Maybe I’ll meet a nice young man who will change the way I
feel about relationships. Who knows? I could’ve already met him, but he’s just
grooming himself into the man that he feels I deserve.
