In the historically thorny debate over abstinence, the conversation typically steers toward religion. While I’d love to indulge, I’m pretty sure the contents of my nightstand drawer have disqualified me from any serious discourse on moral piety, so we’ll have to improvise.
The revised Hannah-debate: Does waiting “til death do us part” give us a better experience in the sack? Since Think-Tankers squeezed by barely decided (only 57% of you shook your heads: No), I’ve decided to give both sides a fair shake.
First, I must explore the theory that teenage girls have mulled over since the beginning of slumber parties: Your first time bites—no matter when it happens. You’re confused (and usually he is too), you typically experience some level of pain or discomfort, your bed sheets get stained (and not just with the stains of love), and you lay there, like a dead walrus, trying to remember what all those juicy Cosmo articles said you were supposed to do, while he does…his thing.
Sex requires a WHOLE lot of practice before it becomes mind-blowing. And this is why many prefer to take some swings at the batting cages before stepping up to the plate. This way, the stakes remain low. Bad sex can be simply a series of “remember whens…” You remember when your prom date oh-so-politely informed you that blowjobs don’t necessarily require blowing; you remember when you kicked your one night stand in the face during a poorly-coordinated position-shift; you remember when your drunk ass passed out before he could unclasp your bra (or was that just me?). If you’ve got a heavy rock on that finger but can’t seem to ever hit a home run, bad sex can turn into a devastating mistake that you now have to sign divorce paperwork to get out of.
On the other hand, many believe that none of the swings are worth taking without an ideal coach. With the right person, sex can be seen as a positive learning process, rather than a move-me-or-lose-me deal. I suppose this is akin to marrying your best friend—he’s seen your worst, he’s seen your best, and he loves you all the more for it (though it still may not stop him from sharing a bed with your slutty sister…but I digress). When you know someone this intimately—and exclusively—sex can be nearly telepathic.
Celeste may be on to something by vowing to save herself; and good on ‘er for finding a smokin’ hot, NFL-playing, God-loving Christian that shares her ideals. Perhaps all of my emotional turmoil could have been avoided if I had just said “yes” to that smokin’ hot, NFL-playing, God-loving Christian’s brother. Or perhaps I need to find Ben…for a two-minute batting drill.
Jenni Perez authored the 2008-2009 edition of the popular sex issues column, “The Wednesday Hump,” in UC Santa Barbara’s Daily Nexus. When she’s not contributing her thoughts about the trials of modern romance, she devotes much of her effort to sustainable living and recording music.