I am still a virgin this month. I am still being romantically pursued by half a dozen men. This is still annoying to me, primarily because of the remarkable similarity and dullness of the conversations.
“What are you doing?”
“How annoying you are.”
I admit to having multiple conversations where I responded with one word answers, and the other individuals did not get the hint. Apparently my hints are too subtle, despite the fact that I’m about as subtle as I am rich, i.e. not at all.
I’ll be honest, I don’t get the point of constantly texting someone. Or giving someone your number. Facebook me, and you’re much more likely to get a response. Texts? Probably someone telling me to do blah part of an assignment, or to get something from a store.
I enjoy the process of getting to know someone more than I enjoy being in a relationship, which is why my friendships tend to be tightly knit and long lasting, and my romantic entanglements short. Friends aren’t, typically, focused on what’s in my pants. I express my appreciation for this by being an extremely affectionate friend, with ridiculous ideas and physical closeness.
But when I get caught up in the possibilities, I tend to get swept up in my idea of what a person might be far too often. The problem with relationships is that I think too much about them. There are lists of pros and cons, as well as a very practical concern about the possibility of abuse at the hands of potential partners, constantly in the back of my mind. Of course I have intense feelings about partnerships, but more often, I think of them as a business risk, with my emotions on the line.
I fear vulnerability – romantic relationships require rather more of it than I like to display. I don’t like being in constant contact with people either, retreating into my family and close friends for most emotional needs. I know this prevents me from being able to engage in a lot of the early vulnerability of relationships, but if I was vulnerable with any idiot from OkCupid, I’d be more of a mess than I already am.
I have to remember to strike a balance, though. Difficult enough for celibate me, I imagine it’d be impossible with the added ties of sex.
Virgin report over.