A Night to Remember.

I thought it was time. I thought I was willing, ready, and able to finally have what so many people get to experience and enjoy.

It had been twenty two years of waiting, of watching, of being patient for an opportunity to feel wanted and desired.

Who it was wasn’t important.

What mattered was me and how I felt. Or more accurately, how I thought I was supposed to feel.

I sit here writing my story in an unimportant bathroom in Los Angeles. It is the day after, and though my body is cleaned from the night before, I feel the presence of my night everywhere, with in a mixed state of emotions. Mostly, shame. Guilt, embarrassment, unfullfilment, but most of all, I feel lonelier than I did going into it.

My body is sore, my lips are red, I have one lone bruise on my booty and I cannot escape the feeling of pure and utter loneliness.

I didn’t have sex though, thank heavens.

What I did have was a hookup with someone I thought I was ready to finally have sex with. I’m influenced by a lot of mixed messages about sex in my generation and it’s hard to sift through them all and find the best advice for a gal like me. 

“You should wait until you’ve met someone you feel comfortable having sex with”, they say.

“You’re young and single, go have some fun and experience sex like the guys do,” they say.

And then there’s me, a young sensitive woman who’s been told her whole life that she’s intimidating, that who she is and how she looks (tall and beautiful) is why men don’t approach her. That the reason she’s still single is because “someday” someone will appreciate her and all those qualities that make her different.

*pause, for my tears make my vision blurry. Thank goodness I accidentally put on waterproof mascara this morning 

Where were we? Ah, sex.

But what about now? Why can’t someone love her the way she loves herself, see her the way she sees herself?

I’m surrounded by influencing messages that tell me it’s okay to hookup with someone as long as you go into it with the mindset that it’s a hookup and to expect nothing to come out of it but temporary pleasure. 

With that in my head, I waltzed into this situation ready to get some action only to realize that there’s a reason I don’t hook up with just anybody.

It’s not that I’m not that type of girl, and it’s not because I’m picky or that no one approaches me (though all three of those reasons are correct), it’s because hooking up perpetuates the cycle of loneliness that currently consumes me.

Women like me confuse sex with intimacy. Though I thought I was ready for some casual under the covers flirtation, I was secretly looking for more: attention, an invitation to another date, some sign that I’m not just another girl who came through your apartment for a late night booty call. And the disappointment of that rejection, of being denied that secret craving for something more hurts like hell.

Which is why I’m sitting in a dirty bathroom in Los Angeles writing this through mascara stained eyes.

It’s hard for me to move on and remain unattached when my mind continues to crave intimacy and connection with him.

I say I’m fine with how things ended, casually being one of those girls who’s like “yeah I’m young and I used a guy for sex” when on the inside, I’m beyond crushed that my flirtation has ended and the desire for more keeps me from moving on.

I have no end solution to this particular situation except that there’s a reason why I’m not that girl who can have casual hookups. I’m disappointed in myself for allowing my body to out think my mind, but I’m beyond grateful that I didn’t actually sleep with the dude (physically though, yes we slept together with his cat between us).

The reason I write this, the reason I share this, is not only for me and my personal healing, but I hope that someone out there reads this and either understands what I’m going through or feels compelled to share this with someone else who’s going through the same thing.

I can’t be fooled into thinking that having casual sex in this freedom filled day and age is for everyone. It’s certainly not for me. And though I desire intimacy and connection with someone, I’m willing to bypass temporary fulfillment with a hookup partner in order to avoid the feeling of disappointment and loneliness it creates afterward.

It’s simply not worth the rollercoaster of emotions afterward. And the soreness of my body. And the bloody red chapped lips. 

And honestly, if I’m going to be intimate with someone, sharing this hella fine body and punny personality, wouldn’t I want it to be with someone who appreciates me for more than the fact that I’m a woman with a vagina? The right person wouldn’t make me feel the way I currently feel.

I know that now. 

And hopefully that’ll be a lesson learned and next time, I’ll have the courage to see the truth and shy away from the situations I know will cause pain. 

It was a night to remember, maybe not in the way I thought it would be, but it certainly shed light on something I’ve been thinking about for some time. For better or for worse, the night certainly made me wiser. 

A little bit sadder, a little more disappointed in the male species, but wiser nonetheless.