I’ve been single for well over a year and I have truly enjoyed every moment of it. Especially those no-strings-attached moments between the sheets.
For the past year I have enjoyed new experiences, new men, new positions and a whole new chapter of my life. Having recently gained the self-confidence to approach a man, I took charge of my sexuality and decided it was time to let loose a little bit and have a good time.
And that was the best decision EVER.
Recently, though, I was set up on a date. Not really looking for anything serious at the moment, I only agreed to the whole event to appease my friend. But as soon as the boy came to pick me up I was glad that I did.
He was cute. He was smart. He was funny. And he was a total gentleman.
At the end of the evening I thanked him for dinner and awkwardly dodged his attempts at a kiss by slamming my apartment door in his face. Smooth, I know.
It was not like I didn’t want to kiss him – in fact, I wanted to do a lot more…in the shower – it was just that, well, I didn’t know how. I haven’t kissed someone I actually liked in a really long time. The last 10 guys I kissed, in fact, had names I could not recall and happened in a dark corner in a gross bar. The kiss almost always led to sex, which was always lots of fun, but was always purely physical, carnal, and fueled by too much alcohol.
In other words, the only “feelings” involved in the whole exchange were the feelings that were happening below the belt.
I knew I would never see the guys again, so I never really cared how things turned out. I didn’t think about what I looked like naked. It didn’t matter if they ever wanted to see me again. I just wanted to have a good time and be home in time for breakfast the next morning.
With each passing Walk of Shame, though, sex changed for me from an expression of feelings to nothing more than a physical act with a very happy ending (if I was lucky). And I never noticed – until now, that is, when I find myself faced with potential feelings and no clue how to act on them.
I don’t regret the past year of my life, but I do question if treating sex as a light hearted and fun activity has permanently desensitized me to the emotional aspect of it all. I am afraid that my life as a single, sexually uninhibited woman has made me incapable of anything more and that sex can never be anything besides a drunken quest for physical satisfaction.
I think I’m ruined.