LOVE & LUST ARE NOT SYNONYMOUS

NC-17 - for graphic content and way tmi, waaaay tmi.
so stop reading now, but I know you will read it anyway,so what the hell

LEGEND:
My Human Sexuality Prof. wanted a paper regarding past sexual experiences.
A prerequisite however is that it needs to have happened during the quarter
Well, I haven't really been getting any so, I dug out some closet skeletons.
Hhmmm yeah it happened... just not this Quarter, sorry Prof. Stable-Cox.
(And yes, her last name really is Stable-Cox)
(oh and yeah - this was worded for a Sexuality class, hence the blatant-ness)

Love & Lust are not synonymous

I guess for most people where maturity has yet fully manifested itself in one’s being, the notion of love and lust can be confusing. I am talking about the fine line which distinct and differentiate one emotion from the other.

This vague awareness of mine came about in the form of an almost sexual encounter last Saturday (I guess my definition of sex is the actual penetration of penis to vagina). I have been talking and ultimately dating this girl for a month or so now, and we have yet to make it to the sheets. One part of me reasons that it is because I wanted to respect her, and the other was I felt as if a serious relationship – if I ever want to get into one – almost always meant that we took it slow…sexually. Well we went to a night club last Saturday, dancing, booze, a lot of dirty talking while on the dance floor, dancing – all of which built up some sexual tension within the both of us. She never indicated openly before that she wanted to “do it”. And in the few times that we did try to get intimate, I often stopped going further when I thought that she was getting uncomfortable with my advances. I stopped mostly because I did not want to disrespect her as well as that notion that she could be the “one”. That is why I knew this night was different from all the other times I tried to seduce her, at least this was what was going on in my head (or in my pants). She was barely resisting, maybe it was the booze, or maybe she was finally ready – either way it did not matter to me for I equally wanted it to happen. We got home but nothing happened – the alcohol got the best of us, and by the time we were in my apartment she was knocked out on the bed. This frustrated me so I just slept it away. I wanted to build up on what we had last night so I made it a point to set my alarm early and wake up before her. I woke up, took a shower, cooked and prepared breakfast, even put some music on. I guess I wanted to “wine and dine her”, the proverbial way of getting into girls pants right? So she woke up, with a migraine of course, and I gave her breakfast in bed. She was pleased and greatly appreciated it. I am getting too much into the details but basically, yes my gesture of breakfast in bed with music worked. A few words about last night turned into kissing and touching, re-igniting what we both felt from last night. My attraction was undeniable and I wanted to please her in every way possible. I massaged her, I went down on her, always watching for signs if she liked a certain spot or action. I worked my way on top of her, and more kissing – but she stopped me suddenly. From the look of her face she wanted to ask me a question, so I jumped the gun and said that yes I have and will use a condom. But she stopped me again; her look was more vulnerable than the one she gave me awhile ago.

she said:
“You know I’m a virgin right?”

This simultaneously excited me and troubled me. Now that I think about it we never talked about our experiences before, it was something I never brought up because I never felt that our intimacy was in that level. We are both in the age where virginity is something that is rare I guess. We were both 23, and I honestly thought that she was not one, not because of the way she acted, but because of her age.

As I heard her say that I gave her a genuine smile and said;

I said:
“No” I didn’t know you were a virgin."

I resumed what I was doing and started kissing her again. The knowledge that she is a virgin put an unseen weight on my shoulders, as well as terrified me. I never told her that during foreplay, but I was honestly terrified. The foreplay got too much to the point that I wanted to put it in her, and she was resisting, but from the way she resisted it was more because she was afraid of the unknown.

But then again she stopped me, and looked me in the eyes and told me;

she said:
“I love you, do you love me?, I want to hear you say it...”

I felt her legs resist my weight and my thrust as she told me this, I guess wanting to know my answer before I took her virginity. I couldn’t answer her, I was so turned on, and yet all feelings of lust took a step back to the reality that she just told me she loves me. She wants an answer.


A definition of a douche bag in my dictionary is someone who treats women with utter disrespect or ignorance. And alas, I felt like a douche bag. There, right on top of the woman I liked, was a textbook example of a douche bag, and I felt powerless. I know what she wanted to hear, but I could not utter it for the life of me. I wanted to sleep with her, take her, yet her virginity, her professed love and the weight that it imposed on me for being her first – I guess was a bit much for me. I mustered all of my courage and got off from on top of her. I did not want to lie to her, and I definitely did not want to betray the trust that she gave me so far. I laid down on the bed right next to her and told her that:

I said:
“I really, really, really like you, but no I do not love you”

It was the best answer I could give, and it was what was sincere. With those words she silently dressed, she was not crying but I know she feels rejected. No amount of re-assurance I gave that I liked her and that I am being true could take away the fact that she perceived me not loving her as rejection. She finished dressing up, thanked me for breakfast and left.

I was left clinging to my sheets, dumbfounded and unsure, and blue balls in full effect. Masterbation just sounds so pathetic, so I let the pain linger. I had no other choice.

I have yet to talk to her since that fateful Sunday morning, though I have written her a letter. My letter contained some of the very words that I have in here about love and lust, and to a degree my sincerity of how I felt for her. This experience is what got me thinking about the notion of love and lust and the role it plays in relationships still in its infancy. I was telling you in the beginning how I thought she was the one – I still feel the same way, but I just do not love her. A month is too short a time to fall so hard for someone, yet why do I feel the hypocrite for telling her that I "liked" her instead of "loved" her? I am not going to discount the emotions of rejection that she felt, but hopefully my letter reached out to her in some way, so that she may know where I am ultimately coming from. It just seems funny to me how in one of the greatest moments of lust I have ever felt, I still had the state of mind to over think things. Who knows where we would be at as of this moment if I had lied and told her I loved her, but I know exactly where I would be at – in a conflict with myself, utterly hating my actions and the fallacy that I told her. I know that would spell the end of what we have, so maybe, just maybe what I did was the right thing. Its far from over anyway, I just have to give her time and not be so hard on myself.


-chrissanjose


in hopes that you dont see this, and if you ever do well... enjoy.