Let’s start at the beginning. There are countless possibilities for the beginning, but I’m going to choose explaining to you my mindset in my freshman and sophomore years of college. I lost my virginity in my freshman year, and I, in my mind, hoed it up for two years. Not because I wanted to, but because I thought that was what I was supposed to do.
I waited until I was 18, and I always took my status as a badge of shame. That I wasn’t enough to find a nice boyfriend, and I slept with the first person I was barely comfortable enough with. I took a couple shots and I just went for it, because I knew he wanted me and that was enough apparently. It was not fun, at all, but I was happy to be done with it, to lose that status I was so ashamed of. I slept with two other people that weekend, because I wanted to celebrate, and I thought I just needed to do it again to enjoy, that it never feels good the first time. Still didn’t work.
I calmed down a bit after that first weekend, but I had one rule. I didn’t sleep with someone more than once. To date, only three people have broken that rule, but I no longer have it. There’s no point, I don’t like one night stands.
During those two years of hoeing it up, I slept with nine people. To some that’s a lot, to some that’s nothing, but I’m comfortable as I am. It was a learning experience if nothing else.
The ninth guy was actually the only one I had a decent friendship with. He was friends with my roommate, and best friend of my roommate’s boyfriend. I would sleep with him so she could sleep with her boyfriend. He was the nicest, and actually cared how I felt. He didn’t have much competition though, I only slept with frat guys who had little care for me. He would have dated me if I gave him the chance. I didn’t reciprocate, and that was enough to finally knock me out of my unhealthy mindset.
After that, I took a two-year break. Honestly, two years of abstinence. None of it was on purpose, though there were people I easily could have slept with. I literally just did not want to. I hated what I had been doing and I knew it wasn’t healthy for my own personal health, even though I was being safe physically. I think you should sleep with as many people you want (consenting of course). But I wasn’t. I was forcing myself to do more. And that wasn’t fair to myself.
I thought I was broken for not wanting anyone, and I thought I could trick myself into it. But I couldn’t. I now know why, and it’s not something I’m ashamed of. If I could go back, maybe I would change how I acted, who I slept with, all of it. But I can’t, so my only real option is to change how I do things, how I treat myself. I no longer sleep with people for the hell of it, it’s only when I actually want to. It causes more heartbreak, because it means more to me now than before. But it’s worth it. I’m not sure of my future, but I’m never going back.
