This is post 3 of 5 in my series called, MySpace is YourSpace.
Awhile back, I asked for reader’s gritty responses to 5 deeply personal questions. I created an email account so folks could log in, answer questions and email the answers to that same email address, creating an anonymous space for open, honest answers.
Below are the 4 ANONYMOUS and UNEDITED responses I received. The 5th one is my own.
(I’m the long-winded one.)
Age Range: 30-33
“In terms of frequency absolutely and yet there’s always a part of me, somewhere in the back of my mind that wonders if she wants me as much as I want her. Does she lust for me? I think sex is awesome of course, but I also believe it can bring out some deep seated fears if its not treated carefully.”
Age Range: 26-29
Relationship: in a relationship
“it’s ok. being in my relationship, i have had to lower my sex drive considerably. expect so much less. only do certain things. ive sacrificed things in every area of my life for this relationship. it’s just in my character to do so.”
Age Range: 34-37
“No, sometimes I think I would be a nicer calmer person if someone would just have sex with me regularly. But I can’t maintain a relationship past a couple months.”
Age Range: 30-33
“No. My sex life pretty much exist as a solo act. You can only keep that up for so long.”
RESPONSE #5 – ME:
Age Range: 34-37
SEX? What? Who? Hey, look over there! Oh wait. I’m the one who asked this question, wasn’t I?
OK. Let’s do this! I mean, the blog post…not IT.
(I’ll pause while you gather your thoughts and your jaw off your keyboard.)
When I was 16, I signed a pink card at one of those ‘Don’t Even Think About Having the S Word Until You Say the ‘I Do’ Words And In the Meantime Make Sure To Leave Room for the Holy Spirit When You Slow Dance’ type of conferences.
The pink card was an (in)formal abstinence contract between the signee, primarily a 14-16 year old church girl, and God promising with ink and tears that they wouldn’t have sex before marriage.
It’s not premarital sex unless you’re gonna marry the person. Am I right, or am I right? Hello? Is this thing on…
My sweet 16 self was confident that by 25, I’d be married to a Jesus-loving, Promise Keepers-going, lead singer of a Christian rock band and co-founder of a homeless ministry tall drink of water whose looks could only be described as, “if Toby McKeehan, Dan Haseltine and Johnny Depp had a baby” and he would love me more than John thought Jesus loved him and we’d have triplets and an adopted baby boy from Ethiopia.
So, for me to endure a few more coitus-free years was no biggie, Smalls.
Well…25 has come and gone and the ole birthday Rolodex has flipped through once or thirteen and here I am…still single and about to give Andy Stitzer a run for his money as I contemplate officially changing my name to Pink Card Patty.
(You can steal that name and start a band if you like.)
And even though some of the mega conferences, “Just Say Nope to Grope” type rallies and having Mr. No Sex guest speak at my youth group (yes, that is real. Video Blog to follow) were over-the-top hype fests that mostly gave away free shirts and fear, something stuck with me.
The value of waiting for my husband remains important to me.
As you can well imagine, this doesn’t fare well in dating. After “The Talk,” most guys act as if they’ve just been told they’ll be infected with an incurable penile disease if they as so much text ever again.
That’s OK. I know it’s not for everyone, but it is for me.
Now, before I go any further (pun intended), there’s something I know I need to put in black and white. I know I need to write it out because it weighs on my shoulders heavier than my lack of prenuptial touchables.
Six years ago something was taken from me.
A night blurred from blind drug-induced seduction, poor choices and ill timing left me battered, bruised and confused. Leaving me with the task of piecing together a jigsaw puzzle with more pieces missing than present.
The ‘day after’ blended into weeks of doctor visits, antibiotics, drug tests, STD/HIV tests and denial. The months that followed were enveloped in therapy, healing, forgiveness and moving on. Some of my physical bruises lingered for over two months, but the flashbacks lasted much longer. It took a year for me to finally stop reliving that terrible night on daily basis.
For years, that night has racked my brain & white knuckled my heart.
I allowed “Critic’s Math” to be the loudspeaker in my life. I had a community surrounding me, loving me and never once questioning the validity of my pain or my story. Their love, support and empathy filled the stadium of my heart, but it was the voices from the sidelines murmuring how the fault was mine that kept me from getting back in the game.
I had “The Talk” with a guy I was dating awhile back and when I told him the Reader’s Digest (large print edition) version of what happened to me six years ago, he very stupidly blurted out in response to my virginity, “So, you just don’t count that one then?”
I wanted to throat punch him.
No. I don’t count ‘that one.’ I don’t count the time that I was taken advantage of while incapacitated due to the involuntary use of drugs and some voluntary use of alcohol. Nope. Nada. Zilch.
Yep. I should’ve throat punched him.
It’s taken me over a month to write this blog post. Not because I don’t like to talk about saving sex for marriage or I’m embarrassed about being the almost 40 Year Old Virgin (Dear God, please send my hubs soon. Thanks!) or I think people will think I’m weird.
I know I’m weird and I’m OK with that.
But, I noticed I kept getting distracted from writing this post in particular. I’d get distracted with normal day-to-day stuff like laundry, not feeling well, busyness and just plain old procrastination and then it dawned on me that I was avoiding this blog subconsciously. I was avoiding possible conflicts and the potential of hearing those sideline murmurs again.
I’m still healing from that event and events that took place after, but I’m realizing more and more I can’t do that silently. Moreover, I shouldn’t be silent because others need to hear my story to be encouraged, and perhaps prompted towards healing.
I know, this is heavy stuff, but this is real-life stuff and I can’t help but think someone needs to hear this.
Someone needs to hear…
It’s OK to abstain from sex until marriage.
It’s OK if your ‘Pink Card’ has tattered edges & is hard to read. (Mine is too.)
It’s OK if you had sex, but really wanted to wait.
It’s OK if you need healing from a sexual assault/victimization.
It’s OK to talk about this with someone you trust.
Someone needs to hear…
It’s NOT OK to carry the burden of your sexual past, hurts and traumas alone.
It’s NOT OK to think that your victimization is your fault.
It’s NOT OK to have sexual contact with anyone who is without the sober, rational capacity to consent.
It’s NOT OK to use drugs and/or alcohol to get someone to have sex or sexual contact with you.
It’s NOT OK that every 2 minutes, someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted.
I’ve learned a lot over the years and I’m more careful than ever about who I surround myself with, where I go and what I do when I get there. It was a tough lesson to learn, but if I can help someone else avoid this pain altogether or help them work through their existing pain; it will make all the difference.
I’m aware that the longest part of this post really has nothing to do with the question that was asked. But, it’s something I feel needed to be expressed, if for no one else but me. And besides, it’s my website, I can run it a muck if I want to.
So…here I am waiting.
(You’re welcome for getting that song stuck in your head.)
What about you? Is your sex life what you want it to be?
Do you have something you need to share?
Remember, you are not alone in this.