On One Life to Live last week, Dani confessed considering sex with Nate. In an almost touching scene that followed, Téa told her there were things she must consider. “Do you trust him with your feelings? And do you trust him with your body?” she asked. That kind of motherly advice was absent in my upbringing. I can only be left to guess what Mama would have said if I had offered such a confession. But Téa’s questions hit me now and I suddenly wished I’d been asked them.
The first time I considered sleeping with a guy, neither of those questions even crossed my mind. The biggest question I had was, “What if he doesn’t really like me and he’s only acting like this because he wants sex?” Maybe that counts as not trusting him with my feelings, I don’t know. It seems to me more like he shouldn’t have trusted me with his. My second biggest question was, “Do I want to spend the rest of my whole life remembering this guy as my first?” A quick apology to Kyle… Kyle, if I had really thought on that, the answer would definitely have been no!
Ultimately, the answer to both questions was the same, “I don’t care.” And so the question that eats me now, is whether or not it would have made a difference if Mama had offered me sexual advice. The answer is simple. Any kind of real advice, not necessarily sexual, from Mama would definitely have changed my life. It would have changed me. But that didn’t happen and so today I have to wonder what I would have decided if someone as respectable as Mama had suggested trust was even a piece in the sex puzzle.
Kyle was the guy. He was the first honestly sexy guy who showed that kind of an interest in me and so he was the guy. He was my first date, my first real kiss, my first official boyfriend at an age where boyfriends counted, and if I had had a little more control over the events in my life at that time, he definitely would have been my first.
The funny thing is that this had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with my own true desires. The boys I had it bad for, who given a chance could have broken my heart, never showed any interest in me. I didn’t honestly care about Kyle at all. I didn’t even like him all that much. He was a bad kisser, and he was such a nuisance that if he wasn’t so darn hot, I probably would have dumped him before we were ever official. The interest belonged to him and one of my more influential friends.
I trusted Kyle about as far as I could spit him. It never would have occurred to me to consider trusting him with my feelings. I give myself props for even considering what I would think of myself afterward. My feelings have always been my own responsibility. I’ll stop there and admit that I haven’t exactly put them through obedience school. Sure, if I get hurt, I might be someone you’d rather avoid for a while, but I never would think that was Kyle’s fault.
What mattered to me was that I was a virgin. It was like if I could just get a check on the checklist, I could worry about the rest of it later. My only real concern about a sudden disinterest the morning after, was in that if there was going to be a Hit and Split being played, I was going to be the player. The thought of meaning nothing to Mr. Meaningless was intolerable.
There wasn’t any real need to trust Kyle with my body. I trusted sex with my body. It was going to be the greatest thing ever. Kyle was merely a necessary accessory like a coordinating purse. What he didn’t do with my body was a bigger concern to me than what he did do with it. Alien were the thoughts that he might be rough with me, or try to talk me out of protection, or just not care about making it enjoyable for me.
In the end it didn’t matter what decision I made. Things didn’t work out. I was only fourteen and circumstances at home governed my life. Kyle and I ended up breaking up shortly after and there was no second opportunity. I was mad about it then, but I’m glad when I look back. Kyle was kind of a pig. Smoking hot pig belongs on a plate next to my scrambled eggs. My first time eventually ended up with someone I believed I was in love with, and I’m sure I’m much happier with that memory.
Sex turned out for me to be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I ended up waiting more than four years before the need to ask myself those questions arose again. I guess I’m just one of those girls who doesn’t come off as approachable. Unless we are talking about one particular dweeb back in college groping me when I woke up from a nap, I am still on a count of three. But three is enough to know that when number four comes along, I am going to ask myself this time if I trust him… with my heart and with my body.
© 2010 Anne Schilde