I don't think of myself as particularly peculiar, or incessantly unique. Perhaps my lifestyle points to a bit of difference, but I like the normal things too. I have a resoundingly normal interest in sports and restaurants and music, and I can wander into the bar on the corner and have a comfortable conversation with the middle-aged neighborhood mother drinking in the corner. I am not so removed that I cannot happily navigate interaction in the world.
But now and then, I will say, I find myself isolated. I say something I think is normal and get an uncertain response. I have ideas and make choices that are echoed by groups of people everywhere, but without a classified, categorized genre these decisions never seem to make much sense to the people around me.
Yesterday I was retelling the story of my worst recent date, an odd chain of events that either speak to my naivety or his boldness, and probably both. The punchline was my agreeability, but what made Stephen stop was the dialogue that moves the plot along.
"I hope you don't think I'm the kind of guy who gives it all up on the first date" he joked, as he took a quick break from slobbering on my face.
"Well I hope you don't think I am, because full disclosure: I'm a virgin," I retorted, because eventually I was going to have to clue him in on the fact that no, I was not going to have sex with him today.
It shocked him, and it shocked Stephen. And I mean I get it, I'm 25 and not a complete social reject, so I understand that it's surprising that I still haven't slept with anyone over the course of my life. But still... is it really so crazy that somebody who has yet to be a participant in a grown-up relationship would choose to put a pause on sex? Or perhaps the root of the issue is not sexual at all, and the confusion initiates when people learn that I have never been in a grown-up relationship at all?
I feel like it shouldn't matter. I feel like I should have all the time in the world to find somebody I really want to spend my time with. I don't want to troll the internet for any warm body who is equally as desperate as I am and lives within a specified Philadelphia radius; I don't want to waste my time going on dates with people I am not already fascinated by. Some of it is my pride, and some is the way I protect my time as if it is a precious thing; because really, my time is a precious thing. I have friends I love, a full-time job I enjoy, an art studio and a printmaking co-op to which I don't nearly dedicate enough time. I have paintings calling me, a private perch along the river waiting, family I adore. I'm buying a house, and will soon enough be fixing up said house.
I am not ready to make a commitment to anyone less than who I love.
This makes it hard for me to pinpoint why I am still so hung up on Will. Is it the convenience, like Jessica says? I don't think so, but I guess I'll know more after I move and his house becomes not so short of a walk. Is it impatience, or this awareness that everybody else is moving forward in their lives, with partners and engagements and weddings, while I am alone? Is it a nagging hunch that there is nobody out there for me (who I will love as much as they love me)?
Or maybe it's just that he's great, I love to be around him, and I love him.
Either way, I've come to accept the fact that it will never be simple between us. He is firm in the way he arranges his life, and more and more I come to understand that I am not the priority to him as he is to me. It's not just his dates that hurt me, it's his dates on weeknights that he otherwise saves completely for himself. It's a flicker of understanding that it is not that he does not have the time, it is that like me, he considers his time highly precious. And I am not important enough to make the cut.
It makes me sad, but still, he is a joy. There are things that drive me crazy about his persona, but more numerous are the traits that inspire and captivate. The more I consider our odd relationship (filled with unspoken words and misread gestures and back and forths), I come to understand that while it may be unhealthy and while it is certainly unconventional, of course this is the sort of relationship I would choose. I am strange, and obviously the people I choose to love, and our relationship itself, would be strange.
Sometimes it hurts, but inevitably it's worth the trouble.
(When I am writing, I find it impossible not to go off on tangents. One story leads to another memory, and soon enough I have hurdled past any pre-conceived guidelines and found myself in new, much less concise pasture.)
Will is a Christian, and perpetually refers to his preference not to participate in things that are sexual, as he tries to navigate the world while staying within the boundaries of the morals he has chosen for himself. He talks about it a lot - actually, the first time I met him he told a story about letting a girl sleep over after explaining that nothing else would happen because "I'm super wholesome when it comes to girls."
I have never once told Will that I am a virgin.
I have a thing where I am secretive about the things most important, or the things I don't think should be important. For some reason I feel like sharing this tidbit about myself would be like using a secret weapon to leverage myself higher in his regard. It seems cheap, and really, I know it will just confuse him further. Because from experience, it is impossible for people to understand why, for a girl who is unaffiliated with religious groups or academic moral sects, something so basic would seem so precious. And I can try to explain it, but people don't seem to understand.
It's a choice I make, and I don't know why it's more surprising than the decision of promiscuity. Regardless, my sexual history is a fact, but not a trait that particularly defines me. Actually, now that I'm talking it out, maybe it makes sense that I've never talked to Will about it. Because sexual restraint is a feature that is integral to his idea of Self, but not so important to me.
Honesty is what I hold most dear, and sometimes, surprisingly, sharing something can be less revealing than keeping it to yourself.
