Sex Positivity Sans Sex Experience
BY ANONYMOUS
When I first tuned into “Girls” my sophomore year of high school I quickly realized I was Shoshanna, the youngest of the characters—not in the trendy apartment owner and aspiring business-woman way (that will not be my future), but in the virgin way. Girls explores the lives and sexual experiences of four young women in New York, and Shoshana’s experiences reflected my own.
Her “status” to put it nicely, was integral to her identity and to the fear surrounding her womanhood. When she revealed her virgin status to her former childhood friend, he abruptly stopped eating her out and exclaimed that he does not have sex with virgins. He proclaimed that they get “too attached,” to which Shoshanna frantically counters that she doesn’t get attached. But, the moment is lost and she remains, as she puts it, “the least virginy virgin.” From Shoshanna Shapiro to Sophia Swanson to April Kepner to Anastasia Steele to Ashley Iaconetti: we find stories of women in their 20s to 30s (mostly white) who have not swiped their v-card. Their experience (or lack-thereof) turns into a label and a point for self-deprecation. As I quickly approach graduation from this *fine institution of learning, I began to wonder how my inexperience has colored my views of my friends, family, foes, and classmates. Perhaps at times, I wasn't a great listener or didn't truly hear what they had to say. So welcome to my senior year word vomit extravaganza on how being a virgin (I choose to use that term cause it’s short, sweet, and honestly makes me laugh) or rather how my lack of experience has allowed me to shape my views of sex positivity. Let’s begin! I am quite inexperienced, if that wasn’t made clear by my earlier comparison. If sexual prowess were on a bell curve I’d be in the 25-30th percentile. High school was not my sexual awakening by any means, mind you, neither was college! Contrary to Shoshana and and Anastasia, I did not intend to be waiting until marriage or for “the one.” I jokingly called this delay my “series of unfortunate events.” From poor body image, the plight of the late bloomer, constantly comparing myself to my sisters, and my fear of losing control, I convinced myself that I was never going to find romantic love, let alone get laid. I even went as far as faking a sense of pride for not having a relationship or kissing anyone in high school. I avoided the drama of hooking up and hurting feelings, but I ended up locking myself in a snow globe existence. Everyone’s experiences around me were magnified and seen as scary, painful, out of reach, and I sat there looking happy and satisfied with where I was. My first “sexual experience” began with a young man being interested in my sister. Realizing she was unavailable, I was the next best thing. It was anticlimactic and all I could think about was the taste of the cheap vodka that he had managed to sneak in. It lasted about 10 minutes and then I returned to my room, rolled into bed, and ticked that box off my list. In order to escape my loneliness I became a big romantic movie buff. I know it’s not realistic by any means, but that fantasy of someone finally realizing that they are worthy of love, or that the person they always thought about was thinking about them too, always brought me some level of hope. I was just like that girl that would go about life until one day a boy would shine the deserving spotlight on me. There was this huge disconnect between the portrayal of building up to physical intimacy and the reality of hook-up culture. I was at a loss and decided to follow my MO of pining after people who did not give me the time of day, hoping they would have this revelation and that we would be in love. My many methods of pursuit included: running around a foreign country in the rain to find a limited edition copy of a boy’s favorite novel, copying an entire textbook the week before an exam when another boy lost his (my mom was quite upset at my use of ink cartridges), and sending a post-wisdom teeth care package overnight. After my second-choice first kiss I proceeded to putter about. My first year of college came and went, and sophomore year I decided to admit my feelings for novel boy to which I got a “maybe in the future.” Then a very casual hookup that lasted all of two weeks, then a new pining prospect, then admission of feelings again my junior year and…nothing. If you notice a pattern then I would say congrats, but unfortunately all my friends have glaringly pointed this out to me. As you can see this timeline does not lend itself to a bevy of sexual experiences. While I was trying to learn where I was fumbling in regards to relationships all my friends were out there doing “it”. I felt time quickly slipping away as I fell further and further down that bell curve, I began to question every part of myself. How I looked, smiled, introduced myself to new people, danced, walked, talked, and what I was interested in became aspects of myself that I needed to fix. I became terrified of any sexual experience. I didn’t want to be touched because I “knew” I would react the wrong way, I didn’t kiss because I “knew” I was bad at it. While no one ever told me these “facts” I created about myself, I lived my life by them. During that same period, I began to question the connection and disconnect between emotional and physical intimacy. Tons of my friends were able to have fun, go out, and hook up with whomever they desired. I wondered how they did it; in the movies there was always an emotional connection before finally feelings boiled over into the physical. Is emotional intimacy a component of any sexual experience? Does it have to be? Does emotional intimacy have to precede the physical or vice versa? I started to wonder if they way I viewed sex was inherently negative, that it needed to have that emotional crescendo, that it was not good if you just wanted to have sex.This is when I began to question my position on sex positivity. For a long time I believed I was sex positive because I said that sex was great and fun (even though I hadn’t had it). And yet, I did not fully comprehend what it means to others I began to wonder if I could be sex positive without having sex. Through late night texts, conversations with my friends, and the world wide web, I began to uncover what sex positivity meant to me. I also discovered that sex positivity can mean different things to different people and that's OK. Sex positivity tends to go hand in hand with having sexual experience. There are many personal definitions sex positivity, and unfortunately many voices get lost in the shuffle and a lot of misunderstanding occurs. While I do not claim and can never claim to speak for more than myself, I believe that the definition does not require:
Supporting other people in my life who have had different sexual experiences than me has taught me a lot, so I hope this piece not only opens the door to deeper conversations on sex positivity, but also reminds people that it’s okay to ask questions, and it’s not weird if you don’t feel comfortable talking about sex! Whether it’s scouring the internet (do this with caution), heading over to Patricia’s (highly recommend), or just chatting with a friend, never be ashamed to explore what sex positivity means to you. Never be ashamed... For the sake of truth: ironically, as I was writing this I began to see someone, which was a shock to the system for sure. Quite honestly, I am terrified for a variety of reasons (mostly me explaining how inexperienced I am and potentially scaring them), but I’m happy to finally be comfortable sharing a bit more. Here’s to hoping my 22 years of vicarious sexual and emotional experiences can help me somehow! |