Do I want a husband, or just sex?

I have mentioned before that my best friend, Amy, and I are still virgins. She is gung-ho about holding the cherry hostage until marriage.

Right now, I don’t care if I walk down the aisle de-flowered. I haven’t told Amy that I’m not feeling the “wait ‘til marriage” thing anymore.

Anyway, I think we’ve been having similar feelings lately and are interpreting them in different ways. She longs for marriage, like, right now.

For once, Amy’s been trying harder than me to get a man. Her skirts are a little shorter. She’s actually wearing skirts! And heels! And she is finally moving beyond solid colored cardigans and jeans and no makeup. Now she puts makeup on daily, shows a little cleavage and wears bright colors and patterns.

She even started online dating, two years after me. She gave up after a few weeks, though, when she couldn’t get past the online chatting with any guy.

Whenever she talked to a guy online, she told me about why she thought he might be “the one,” why he might make a good husband.

Yes, Amy flat out told me that she really wants a husband. She also hopes the courtship is brief, perhaps only a few months, just like it was with her virginal parents.

And every single time we hang out now, she talks about the lack of men our age in the place. I sometimes don’t even notice. I’m too busy eating or talking to her or whatever.

If Amy is feeling how I’ve been feeling lately, I wonder if it’s really desire for marriage, or if she is just “in heat?”

One of the many reasons I’ve been less active in dating since Spring is because of my toy. Whenever I get all aflutter, satisfaction is just a flick of the switch away. I know Amy has no “toys” and I’m sure she follows the Catholic rule of not pleasuring yourself either.

I can’t imagine the level of sexual frustration that is still pent up in Amy.

I am talking to new guys in public and occasionally send messages on OkCupid. I do try to stay open and alert for guys who are looking my way. I even talked to a guy in a bar recently!

But my level of desperation is not Amy’s. Marriage is not on the horizon for me, and I’m okay with that.

I mean, I still haven’t even been kissed. Let’s get over that hurdle first!

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Image: Sharron Goodyear / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

How does it feel to never have been kissed?

Awful. Crappy. Awfully crappy.

It is easy to say, “I will not have sex until marriage,” when you have never been in the throngs of passion. Am I untouched because I pull my hand away when guys reach for it, or turn my head away when guys lean in for a kiss?

No!

Guys do not reach for my hand, do not lean in for a kiss. Perhaps my virginity has created a “hands-off,” aura around me. This is fine when dirty old men on the corner yell, “Hey! Can I tap that?” This is a problem when I'm with guys I like.

Sometimes, I do want a guy to play with my blouse. But they don't. The only time guys have ever touched me in the bathing suit area was strangers grabbing my butt at a nightclub. Eww.

So when I liked a guy, I have tried to give hints that physical contact was welcome on date number two. While walking together down the street, I made sure that nothing was in my hands, got a hand within a centimeter of his, and kept it open. When riding with the guy in a car, I leaned in, laughed, smiled and held eye contact. I sat next to the guy on the train and got close enough that our thighs touched and arms kept brushing, with all those smiles and eye contact and leaning in. Once on a movie date, I put my arm on the arm rest next to him.

Nothing.

The guy at the movie didn't even do that cliché move of stretching and putting his arm around my shoulders! I just don't know what to do. Either I'm too subtle or the guys are too disinterested. I don't know. I guess I have to sit on the guy's lap, wrap my arms around his neck, stick my face right in his and part my lips.

I don't know if I want to be with a guy who needs such a not-so-subtle hint…

It is difficult to keep being assertive, to initiate contact, when even after you initiate contact, they still do not ask you out. Or when you go out with them, they do not make a move. I try to persist, but it is hard.

So I think, “Let the guys come to me.” I need proof. I have seen what my guy-friends do when they like a girl. They chase, even the shy ones chase. The girls just have to sit and exist. The guys run to them.

Guys are not running after me. I try to watch for a guy who is checking me out, but usually, no one's looking. Once a month, MAYBE one attractive guy will check me out. If I get any male attention, it is from horndogs on the corner.

So whenever my non-virgin friends complain about not feeling sexy, I think, “Well at least someone screwed you!” Some days I think some good guys out there will not just see me as a sweet, nice, intelligent FRIEND who they respect. Yes, guys have told me they “respected me,” and therefore just wanted to stay friends. What? You cannot simultaneously desire and respect the same woman?

Yet sometimes I think, “Stop kidding yourself. You're average-looking at best. You don't have a ‘milkshake,’ no matter how many bellydance classes you take. You are a prude nerd in bellydance clothing. You're holding back a ‘cookie’ that probably isn't even good. What man in his late twenties or early thirties wants to work for bad, virgin sex? You're hopeless. Go play with your cats.”

Dreams

I try not to put too much stock in dreams. Some people read so much into them, as if they are prophecies, as if we are all Joseph and the amazing technicolor dreamcoat. True, dreams can give us some insight into our feelings, as people we are thinking a lot about often appear in our sleep. Although our dreams have some meaning, sometimes the meaning is mundane. We dream about work because we go there every day. We dream about guns because we watched an action-packed movie. We dream about our mothers after we have a fight with them.

Despite my logical, left-brainer approach to them, I sometimes am troubled by my dreams. Last night, I dreamt about someone I used to have a crush on, years ago, in freshman year of undergrad: "Tim." Tim is not too dissimilar to Walter. Both are liberal, radical activist types. Very political, and both a bit self-righteous, as in "you can't be a true radical/leftist/liberal unless you give up x, y, and z!" Walter, however, is religious while Tim is Atheist. The Atheism, angry self-righteousness and difference in sexual morals were what turned me off of Tim. Really, I had a thing for Tim mainly because I thought he liked me. Honestly, I still sometimes wonder if he harbors some attraction to me. I like to play with stories in my head. I started (and abandoned) a story based on him, about a young, Atheist, hard-ass liberal who falls for a good church girl, and just can't squelch the love, though it's unrequited. Perhaps I'm just in the mood for a good, unrequited love story. But upon more reflection, I always conclude that it is impossible for him to have a secret, seven year crush on me.

Anyway, my dream. I dreamt I was at a party, at the end of the night. I guess it was too late to go home on my own, so I laid down to sleep in one of those long, reclining lawn chairs, on the porch of the apartment where the party was held. It was dark, quiet, just some porch lights on. The sky was dark brown. Mild temperature, just a light breeze. I wasn't wearing a jacket. I was half asleep in the dream, so very relaxed and paying little attention to my environment. Along comes Tim, who lays on top of me (we're both fully clothed), and just wraps his arms around me and sleeps quietly. So warm, so nice it was to have another body mass lay on me. He wasn't heavy, I didn't choke, but I could feel the evenly distributed weight. He wasn't trying to make out or take off my clothes. Just laying. I wrapped my arms around him, his head just below my neck, on the left side of my chest. I felt so peaceful, it felt so natural, I didn't want it to end. My lips parted, waiting, excited, because I knew with his experience, he must be a good kisser. He shifted a little when I parted my lips.

And the dream ended, of course. It always ends before the best part.

And of course, it was one of the last dreams I had before waking up, so it's been on my mind all day. I woke up hot and bothered, not surprisingly. Passion unfulfilled. I do not have a crush on him anymore, though I believe his personality has improved. He isn't quite as angry and self-righteous as he became when the Iraq war started. He's more like the old Tim, laid back, funny, and now more gentlemanly. If only he weren't Atheist and sooo horny. There are qualities in him that I would like in a boyfriend.

Just the same, after last night's dream, if he ever leaned against me on the couch tried to sneak in a kiss with a hug, I can't say I'd push him away. :-P No, I am not interested in a FWB, but a peck (or two) wouldn't hurt!