I have long(ggggggg) neglected this blog– so much in fact that internet protective services has come banging on my door three nights in a row. It’s okay, though. That’s what the dogs are for.
In my last post, I grieved about my lack of social skills and how that was interfering with my college life. Now, even though said lack of social skills is still ever present, I have bigger things to grieve about. For one, I failed to find a cute holiday dress during Black Friday sales. Second, it’s finals week, and I’m going to fail at life.
Instead of studying, I thought I would take my mind off all the exam stress through a somewhat productive medium. Rather than watching endless hours of YouTube videos, I am going to write a blog instead. Here is the blog. Woah– magic.
Writing for me is like a really tedious form of therapy. Usually, I’m too lazy to do it but when I do, and do it well (or what I consider “well”), my mind is able to relax, unwind, and prepare for three essays and two finals. The topic I chose for this meditative exercise? Sex.
My views on the subject have evolved a lot over the years, even though its role in my personal life has not. When I was young (by “young” I mean middle school age– I was not debating the ethics of fornication in kindergarten), I used to believe that sex should be saved until marriage. Many people hold this view because of God or Allah or Sean Hannity, but I held it for other reasons. None of my “conservative” opinions ever stemmed out of religion. For issues like abortion and sex outside marriage, I justified my opinions with what I considered more sensible reasoning than, “Because ____ says not to.”
I thought sex is best saved until marriage because sex is something you should only engage in with someone you love at an age when you actually know what love is. So when you are a) old enough to know what love is and b) are in love, you get married. Then, you can have sex. Simple as that. If you are not committed enough to put a ring on it, you are not committed enough to put anything on/in anything else.
That was basically the gist of my argument, along with “ewwww penises”.
I also thought that if a teenage girl got pregnant, it was because she was stupid and emotionally weak enough to submit herself to her desires. Any rational person, I surmised, would think about the potential consequences of sex, realize what a risk they are taking, and then stop themselves.
For the greater majority of my adolescence, up until either junior or senior year of high school (I don’t track when I have major revelations, a fact that will complicate things for my future biographer), this is how I saw sex: an act reserved for marrieds only, and those who ignore this restriction deserve whatever consequences come their way.
Then, I don’t know exactly what happened –again, I don’t keep track of these things even though I should be for blogging purposes– but I changed. Okay, I didn’t really change. I have been an awkward duckling since birth and will forever be one.
The way I viewed things changed. Maybe it was because my friends changed. Maybe it was because I watched too much Sex and the City.
(Question: Can one ever watch too much Sex and the City?)
I asked myself: Why do I think sex is so sacred? Why is it considered an honor that only those totally and amorously in love could partake in? Isn’t it just the sensation that people are after, and what’s wrong with wanting to feel “good”? Why do you have to “save yourself” for that special someone? You’re horny now!
Side note: “You’re horny now!” is the working title of my memoir.
It dawned on me that genitalia are just body parts like arms, legs and mouths. They fulfill a purpose. Your arms can bring food up to your mouth, which will then will use all of its parts to chew and put the food in your body so that you don’t starve to death. Likewise, the penis and vagina act as the exit/entryway for the egg and sperm to meet so that humans can reproduce and not let the human species die out.
But you don’t just eat to stay alive. Most people in industrialized societies are not starving to death, and so they eat, not just to stay alive, but because (certain) food tastes good. When I put a french fry in my mouth, I’m not thinking about how it’s keeping my body functioning, I’m thinking, “Where’s the siracha? I want more fries.” And then I get siracha and more fries.
This brings me to an analogy I alluded to in the title of this blog: sex is like chocolate cake.
I would like to preface this by saying that there is probably a better example to use than chocolate cake, and while you’re reading this you can certainly replace it with whatever dessert you please, but I’ve had this chocolate cake image in my head for too long to change it.
Assume there’s two different types of chocolate cake available. One is really expensive and located at a restaurant completely out of your way. However, this chocolate cake is one-of-a-kind. It’s special. Once you have it, your taste buds will never be the same. The other is just regular, store-bought chocolate cake with a WalMart sticker on the plastic cover. Good but ordinary. You can find it almost anywhere. There’s nothing special about it at all, but it’s cheaper and conveniently located in your town.
Surely, you can save your money to get a ride over to the fancy restaurant and buy your fancy cake. But that would take time. You’ve never had chocolate cake before due to the great chocolate shortage of 1999 (it’s all your fault, Bill Clinton!), and for some reason– even though you’ve never had it– you’re reallyyyy craving it. You don’t want to wait for a fancy cake. You just want the cake. Any cake. Into WalMart you go.
It would have been great if your first cake experience was the really delicious, expensive cake. You could go around to all your BFFs and brag about it. “Oh, I had my first chocolate cake ever and it was absolutely incredible. I’m glad I waited.” That’s great. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.
Is there anything wrong with having the WalMart cake first, either? Sure, your first chocolate cake experience might not be mind-blowing. In fact, it might even be a bit disappointing. Turns out, WalMart had screwed up and put the wrong expiration date on the package. You just ate stale cake. Gross.
Eating the stale WalMart cake, however, does nothing to take away from your experience with the expensive cake. While you are eating all these WalMart cakes, you could still be saving up for the expensive cake. Then, when you have it you might even appreciate it more because you realize how much better it is than the other, cheaper cakes. You still get to eat the cake. It still tastes the same. What changed in your situation by you choosing to eat the WalMart cake first?
The reason you ate the cheap cake was because it was cheaper and more available. It may not have been the greatest cake in the world (or the second or hundredth) but it satisfied your desires. As humans, that’s what our bodies want us to do. Sometimes, it is not possible to do that, but when it is as simple and harmless as buying a cake from WalMart, you go ahead and do it.
And assuming that all conditions are “normal” (i.e. neither partner has STDs and the exchange is consensual), sex is simple and harmless, like chocolate cake. There is no reason for you to delay having it if you are emotionally, mentally, and physically ready and want it. You buy that chocolate cake, gurrrl.
One could argue that chocolate cake is not at all analogous with sex in this scenario because 1) chocolate cake can’t get you pregnant and 2) (as I mentioned earlier) chocolate cake can’t receive or transfer STDs.
I think it is highly unlikely to get pregnant if there is contraception. The average failure rate of condoms is 18%, fairly low for a thin piece of rubber. I’m sure that’s not taking into account the number of stupid people who don’t know how to use condoms.
There is Plan B, which, if taken within 24 hours, has an effectiveness rate of 95%.
Basically, there is a very low chance that a baby will pop up (or out, whatever babies do) if the standard precautions are taken. The risk is still present, but there is risk in everything. You cannot argue that the 5% chance of pregnancy is sufficient support for the banishment of pleasure fucking.
Side note #2: “The Banishment of Pleasure Fucking” is the other title I’m thinking about for my memoir.
As for the issue of STDs, the same points apply. Proper contraception. Risks are involved in anything fun. Plus, I’m not necessarily advocating for one-night-stands with random guys you meet at the bar (though I’m not really condemning that either), so if you have an idea of who someone is, I think you can make an assumption about how trustworthy they are. I like to think that most people who have serious STDs like AIDs or herpes would not be so evil as to do that to someone they know. Maybe they would. Maybe you could be wrong about that guy you started dating. Who knows? Again, risks.
Besides those arguments, I cannot think of another rational reason why someone would be so adamantly against having sex with someone you’re not completely enamored with. If you, specifically, do not want to have sex, don’t have sex. No one should force a chocolate cake down your mouth. But if you want that chocolate cake, and are comfortable with eating cheap icing, no one should stop or shame you.
Of course, there’s also religious arguments to be made on this topic, but unless you’re religious, they should have no effect on you, just like any other commandment.
The more I thought about this, the more liberal my views became. I no longer see sex as this sacred act performed for the sake of love; it could be, but it could also just be a really good-feeling night with a so-so guy named Bob. Bob = WalMart cake
Growing up in a small, conservative county in the most obscure state in the US (bet you can’t guess which one), I think I was influenced to have certain opinions from the minute I saw my first cornfield. Even though I was not conservative -and am not- and was never particularly religious, I think my mind adopted all of the ideas that was considered normal to have by those around me and then adapted them into what I, a liberal not-so-religious girl, could accept. I guess all it took was for me to start asking, “Why?” for that whole system of ideology to be dismantled.
Actually, that sounds pretty dangerous. Stop thinking, teenagers!
That’s all I have to say on this topic. Phew. That was long. No wonder I stopped doing this for a while.
I probably won’t blog again for another year, so I hope this rant on sexual liberation will hold you over until next Christmas, when I will be defending the dignity of public orgies.
Your beloved blogger,