Awhile back I was talking to my friend Jean about the sexual standards expected of Christian teens. "It's not entirely fair to put that kind of pressure on young couples," I said, "but I guess my parents did it so..."
"Your parents did what?"
"Stayed virgins until they were married." My parents weren't married until they were twenty-five and twenty-nine.
"You really believe that?" Jean asked, raising an eyebrow with an expression that said you poor, naive child.
"Yes, I do," I said firmly. Jean remained silent.
I admit it, I was miffed by the suggestion that my parents must be lying to me. To me it was an indication of several cultural expectations that sadden me. The first is that parents are going to lie about their personal history to their kids. I know my parents haven't lied to me, primarily because our relationship has been one of trust. As a teen I preferred to ask for permission than forgiveness, and my parents rewarded honesty with equal candor.
"Your parents did what?"
"Stayed virgins until they were married." My parents weren't married until they were twenty-five and twenty-nine.
"You really believe that?" Jean asked, raising an eyebrow with an expression that said you poor, naive child.
"Yes, I do," I said firmly. Jean remained silent.
I admit it, I was miffed by the suggestion that my parents must be lying to me. To me it was an indication of several cultural expectations that sadden me. The first is that parents are going to lie about their personal history to their kids. I know my parents haven't lied to me, primarily because our relationship has been one of trust. As a teen I preferred to ask for permission than forgiveness, and my parents rewarded honesty with equal candor.
I also know how they grew up: in conservative Christian, West Indian communities. Their villages were small, their communities tight. Their social lives revolved around their extended family and the church, which instead of lasting for a mere hour on Sabbath, included afternoon youth programs that took up the better part of their day.
They met in college and started dating near the end of their undergraduate careers. They dated for four years (three of them long distance), and saved their first time for their wedding night. While they're a statistical minority, they are hardly abnormal. According to a 2008 study by the CDC, 9% of 25-29-year-olds had fewer than one (opposite sex) partner in the twelve months previous to the survey (www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nhsr/nhsr036.pdf). (That's right, there is a greater proportion of college age virgins in the United States than there are natural redheads in the world.)
This leads me to a second cultural expectation: that everyone has sex before they're married. Not only is this not true, I plan to truthfully tell my kids that their father and I waited until we were publicly committed to have sex. I want my kids to know that it is possible to wait.
When this decision comes up in conversation (and in college everyone's sex life eventually comes up...), I am occasionally met with pity, confusion, or even the suggestion that our goals are misguided. Some Gen Y-ers genuinely believe that it is impossible to maintain a serious adult relationship without sex. I find this a silly idea for many reasons, but primarily because it elevates sex to the level of relational glue.
The idea that sex is required to hold an adult relationship together marginalizes the relationships of paraplegics and quadriplegics (who have limited sex lives), military spouses (who may have less frequent sex), elderly people who are no longer fit enough for sex, and people in long-distance relationships. Some people have sexual opportunity and choose to wait. It doesn't make them frigid, strange, awkward, or crazy. Just as choosing not to wait doesn't mean someone has loose morals, is oversexed, or promiscuous.
"But what about sexual compatibility?" friends have asked. "What if you get married, and find out too late that you're not sexually compatible?" This question of course stems from the belief that sexual compatibility can make or break a relationship. And it's true that if years from now I were to discover that my husband was turned on exclusively by chandelier tricks and S&M we would have SERIOUS problems. But if you're ready to put a ring on it and make a lifetime commitment to a person you'll presumably be sleeping with, shouldn't you also be ready to be honest about your sexual desires?
Abstinence has been a good decision for me. I may not know the future, but I doubt abstaining from sex will be on my list of regrets later in life. The arguments for and against sexual activity ignore one important fact: relationships are about whole people, not just what goes on between the sheets. Having or not having sex can have a huge impact on a relationship, but ultimately it can only gloss over or bring into relief problems that were already present. A couple who chooses to have sex may have a deeper love and commitment than the couple that abstains. Likewise, the couple that abstains may have more fireworks than the couple who doesn't. But what will ultimately make or break a relationship isn't whether or not he's good in bed, or if she waited until her wedding night [insert commentary on gender-based sexual standards here], but whether or not the two people involved are steadfastly committed to loving each other in a way that makes them better individuals together than they would be apart.
They met in college and started dating near the end of their undergraduate careers. They dated for four years (three of them long distance), and saved their first time for their wedding night. While they're a statistical minority, they are hardly abnormal. According to a 2008 study by the CDC, 9% of 25-29-year-olds had fewer than one (opposite sex) partner in the twelve months previous to the survey (www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nhsr/nhsr036.pdf). (That's right, there is a greater proportion of college age virgins in the United States than there are natural redheads in the world.)
This leads me to a second cultural expectation: that everyone has sex before they're married. Not only is this not true, I plan to truthfully tell my kids that their father and I waited until we were publicly committed to have sex. I want my kids to know that it is possible to wait.
When this decision comes up in conversation (and in college everyone's sex life eventually comes up...), I am occasionally met with pity, confusion, or even the suggestion that our goals are misguided. Some Gen Y-ers genuinely believe that it is impossible to maintain a serious adult relationship without sex. I find this a silly idea for many reasons, but primarily because it elevates sex to the level of relational glue.
The idea that sex is required to hold an adult relationship together marginalizes the relationships of paraplegics and quadriplegics (who have limited sex lives), military spouses (who may have less frequent sex), elderly people who are no longer fit enough for sex, and people in long-distance relationships. Some people have sexual opportunity and choose to wait. It doesn't make them frigid, strange, awkward, or crazy. Just as choosing not to wait doesn't mean someone has loose morals, is oversexed, or promiscuous.
"But what about sexual compatibility?" friends have asked. "What if you get married, and find out too late that you're not sexually compatible?" This question of course stems from the belief that sexual compatibility can make or break a relationship. And it's true that if years from now I were to discover that my husband was turned on exclusively by chandelier tricks and S&M we would have SERIOUS problems. But if you're ready to put a ring on it and make a lifetime commitment to a person you'll presumably be sleeping with, shouldn't you also be ready to be honest about your sexual desires?
Abstinence has been a good decision for me. I may not know the future, but I doubt abstaining from sex will be on my list of regrets later in life. The arguments for and against sexual activity ignore one important fact: relationships are about whole people, not just what goes on between the sheets. Having or not having sex can have a huge impact on a relationship, but ultimately it can only gloss over or bring into relief problems that were already present. A couple who chooses to have sex may have a deeper love and commitment than the couple that abstains. Likewise, the couple that abstains may have more fireworks than the couple who doesn't. But what will ultimately make or break a relationship isn't whether or not he's good in bed, or if she waited until her wedding night [insert commentary on gender-based sexual standards here], but whether or not the two people involved are steadfastly committed to loving each other in a way that makes them better individuals together than they would be apart.
I saw this guy on a Cracked.com article and I fell in love. No, really. I did! Let me start by saying that I'm not the kind of girl who trolls online for pictures of cute men. I just happened to run across this picture, and believe it or not the ad did it's job. I found myself on the Ben Sherman site browsing menswear. Go figure. But what's really weird about this entire situation is that the thing I like most about this guy is what I generally hate on most men: his ridiculously awesome Sherlock 'stach.
I couldn't find this picture in a larger size via google, but I hardly think it matters. I mean, come on. Is that not a beautiful face? He plays a base on the cheer-leading squad in Hellcats. (Which delivers the added bonus of him being absolutely ripped. Besides the fact that his character is smart, highly principled, and strong...His cocoa skin, high cheekbones, and that smile have me wishing I didn't have to wait on tenterhooks to see if his show will air another season. His face is too beautiful to waste.
If you do not know who this is, we cannot be friends. It's not just his screwdriver that makes him sexy. There's this childlike fun quality that makes you think he'd be a ball to hang out with. But forget what I see of him in TV. Look. At. Those. Eyes. If you've ever seen the Tennet stare you know what I mean. (If not, see picture below). They are piercingly beautiful.
