Because it is my blog and I can, it is time to get serious.
SERIOUS.
Forewarning: this post may contain saucy language.
Among the many other actions taken and partaken of during vaguely adult life, sex is perhaps the most commented on. Not in general conversation, of course. But entertainment and jokedom is rife with it. Rife, I say.
Rife is among the top ten words that needs to be used more often. Jib is number one*.
Sex is all over the place. Advertisements, crime, literature, edibles. The strange gets weird in the modern day. You may have to read that sentence more than once, but you'll get what I'm saying in the long run. Hur hur, long run. Like...never mind.
But that most intimate of exercises has become common place. It is more strange for someone to view sex as sacred and private than it is for someone to fart in public without so much as cracking (ha!) a joke about it. Or aiming it at someone. Which relates to the sex issue as well.
As with most SeRiOUS issues, my views are complicated. I can present them at their most basic with two hypothetical, analogical presentations. I'm super big (HA) into analogies, and so turned on (HEE) by hypothetical situations I should just marry them all and become the world's most sexually inactive polygamist evar right now.
1. How would I discuss this with my younger sisters?
My older sis is married (ew) with two children (EWWWW where did they come from EWWW) and her hubby is as awesome in my brain as my other various brothers (EWWW you're so cool EWWWWW) so I do not so much discuss groin action with her. But my younger sisters? EWWWWWWWWWWWW.
Straight up: my respect for you girls will not change with your bodies. You will develop breasticles. You will begin to look at boys and think AWWWW I'm gonna wreck you! but not do so or maybe do so but hopefully not do so bareback which I really hope you do not know the meaning of. I only learned that term through CSI: NY. Watch more TV. Do not watch naked boys being naked.
But if you do, and if you are all "Hey, look at my breasticles" I will not lose my respect for you. I like to think that you will forever be 7 and traumatized by the intentionally, overly frightening bedtime stories I offered you when I was forced to babysit and really just wanted you to be quiet and punished for existing after I existed. But I understand. I'm 25, my blood flows red, I have the internet, I understand.
You have lady parts. You're not children anymore (SOB) and you have LADY parts. It is not a sin or a crime or by any means unnatural to consider those parts and not think 'Meh, they'll sit and be patient until I'm married for the first time after my second (or third) oldest sister is contentedly dead.' You will experience wants and what seems to be needs as you grow to be a legal age and get things like driver's licenses and brofriends and internet connections with deletable histories.
I understand. I love you. You have nouns that want of verbs. It is okay. Just don't be stupid about verbs, and protect your nouns like they are the most irreplaceable, non-refundable assets you will ever have. Because they are. Really, truly, they are.
People make decisions. People make mistakes. People have experiences, and heartaches, and wishes, and also sometimes ice cream sundaes. Or sex. Sex is sort of a part of life. Sort of a big part.
Just understand this: I will always love you. I will always have been the sister that told you that there were werewolves that only attacked little girls who wouldn't stay in bed, whether they were asleep or not. I will always wish for the best possible life for you. I will always tell your potential boyfriends that you have herpes. Always. Because of all those other things.
You don't have to tell me all of the groiny things you feel and do. I understand that that is weird. As weird as the word 'weird,' what with its unconventional 'i,' 'e' relationship. But please, please. Not for me. Not for your boy, or girl, or animatronic lover, or any combination of the latter three. Use your brains before your pelvis. Be aware that orgasms are not the only possible repercussion of sex.
"Are we prepared for baby possibilities? No, seriously, are we?"
"Are you diseased? No shame if you are, but are you? Because if you are, I'm not prepared to share a lifetime commitment like that with you."
"Do you love me? No, not do you love me with YOU, do you love me?"
"Do I love you? No, not do I love you with ME, do I love you?"
If he/she/it is not capable/willing to have these AND MORE conversations with you/them/it, he/she/it is not worth your groin sweat.
And if anyone/thing tries to push you past all of those Importants and your own, previously established Rules...please, talk to me. I am not afraid of prison. Seriously. I might actually get that Shakespeare tattoo I've been thinking about. We all win.
I love you. I always will. I only want you to be happy. And healthy. And safe. And comfortable. You can talk to me about anything. I know I haven't always been that way. But I am now. I've grown up some, and I only regret it took as long as it has. Come to me if you need/want to discuss anything. I will keep cringing to a minimum.
I love you.
2. How do I apply this to myself?
The vast majority of all SUUUREEUS issues are power-divided in my head by how I apply them to society and how I apply them to myself. Smarts? FAIL/gain more. Class? NEAT/gain more. Wealth? NO JUDGEMENT/gain more. Sex? NO JUDGEMENT/
Oh, you see where this is going.
/not until marriage
HA REMIX!!!
I view sex the same way I view language: it only holds the value you allow it.
Example: the word 'verb.'
I once worked with and lusted after a guy who used the word 'verb' the same way Paula Dean uses the substance 'dairy product.' This dapper man had 'verb' diabeetus. I cannot think of a single sentence he uttered without that specific word. And he dropped it so eloquently, so fluidly...
"There's a verbing mouse in my house...my roommate used its dead body to send a message to its fellows. 'See, verb-face? This is what's verbing coming to you!''
'And she looks at me and I'm all...verb. This is gonna be a verbing cake order.'
'Verbing verb...'
Some of those make more sense in context. I should maybe mention that he had read my man Chandler, which caused little cartoon hearts to float over my head. Also he wrote poetry. Jack Kerouac poetry, but still. Also, he had the finest noun I've ever watched walk away. First Wife and I used to have competitions over who could sneak the most peeks. Pretty sure she was cheating. Still, we both could have gotten fired for sexual harrassment. And that means more than matching tattoos.
Even Shakespeare tattoos.
I forget why I brought him up. Now I'm just thinking about his noun.
RIGHT. WORDS. The value of.
Treat sex like a toy, and that's all it is. Treat sex like a treat, and that's all it is. But if sex is something special--something unique, something reserved, something verbing exclusive--that is what it is.
I may have mentioned: at the time of this writing, I am 25. My blood flows red. I have the internet. I watch Game of Thrones. There is a word that comes to mind that sometimes applies to me. Word as VERB. The kind of word that sometimes drives my generation out to bars or hookah joints or street corners or libraries or internets. While I, nonjudgemental, I swear, stay home. Alone. Wording. On the internet.
Because, someday, I hope to share verbs with a special noun. I want it to be a gift, not an action. I want it to matter, even if it hasn't, in his past, mattered. I won't care about what his scorecard says. What will matter is that he is the first one to make marks on mine.
One could argue that I could expect the same treatment of each/every/figmentary partner. But, for me, sex is not about what is taken or expected. It is about what is given.
And, as I assume this kind of buildup stays with you, there will be a catch. The giving will include a week or so's worth of 'verbing him blind' which I will not be discussing on my blog.
Unless he's into that.
This turned out longer than expected HAHAHAHAHAHA
-J
*this is not open for discussion SHUT UP Jib is number one. As in 'the cut of your, I like'.
SERIOUS.
Forewarning: this post may contain saucy language.
Among the many other actions taken and partaken of during vaguely adult life, sex is perhaps the most commented on. Not in general conversation, of course. But entertainment and jokedom is rife with it. Rife, I say.
Rife is among the top ten words that needs to be used more often. Jib is number one*.
Sex is all over the place. Advertisements, crime, literature, edibles. The strange gets weird in the modern day. You may have to read that sentence more than once, but you'll get what I'm saying in the long run. Hur hur, long run. Like...never mind.
But that most intimate of exercises has become common place. It is more strange for someone to view sex as sacred and private than it is for someone to fart in public without so much as cracking (ha!) a joke about it. Or aiming it at someone. Which relates to the sex issue as well.
As with most SeRiOUS issues, my views are complicated. I can present them at their most basic with two hypothetical, analogical presentations. I'm super big (HA) into analogies, and so turned on (HEE) by hypothetical situations I should just marry them all and become the world's most sexually inactive polygamist evar right now.
1. How would I discuss this with my younger sisters?
My older sis is married (ew) with two children (EWWWW where did they come from EWWW) and her hubby is as awesome in my brain as my other various brothers (EWWW you're so cool EWWWWW) so I do not so much discuss groin action with her. But my younger sisters? EWWWWWWWWWWWW.
Straight up: my respect for you girls will not change with your bodies. You will develop breasticles. You will begin to look at boys and think AWWWW I'm gonna wreck you! but not do so or maybe do so but hopefully not do so bareback which I really hope you do not know the meaning of. I only learned that term through CSI: NY. Watch more TV. Do not watch naked boys being naked.
But if you do, and if you are all "Hey, look at my breasticles" I will not lose my respect for you. I like to think that you will forever be 7 and traumatized by the intentionally, overly frightening bedtime stories I offered you when I was forced to babysit and really just wanted you to be quiet and punished for existing after I existed. But I understand. I'm 25, my blood flows red, I have the internet, I understand.
You have lady parts. You're not children anymore (SOB) and you have LADY parts. It is not a sin or a crime or by any means unnatural to consider those parts and not think 'Meh, they'll sit and be patient until I'm married for the first time after my second (or third) oldest sister is contentedly dead.' You will experience wants and what seems to be needs as you grow to be a legal age and get things like driver's licenses and brofriends and internet connections with deletable histories.
I understand. I love you. You have nouns that want of verbs. It is okay. Just don't be stupid about verbs, and protect your nouns like they are the most irreplaceable, non-refundable assets you will ever have. Because they are. Really, truly, they are.
People make decisions. People make mistakes. People have experiences, and heartaches, and wishes, and also sometimes ice cream sundaes. Or sex. Sex is sort of a part of life. Sort of a big part.
Just understand this: I will always love you. I will always have been the sister that told you that there were werewolves that only attacked little girls who wouldn't stay in bed, whether they were asleep or not. I will always wish for the best possible life for you. I will always tell your potential boyfriends that you have herpes. Always. Because of all those other things.
You don't have to tell me all of the groiny things you feel and do. I understand that that is weird. As weird as the word 'weird,' what with its unconventional 'i,' 'e' relationship. But please, please. Not for me. Not for your boy, or girl, or animatronic lover, or any combination of the latter three. Use your brains before your pelvis. Be aware that orgasms are not the only possible repercussion of sex.
"Are we prepared for baby possibilities? No, seriously, are we?"
"Are you diseased? No shame if you are, but are you? Because if you are, I'm not prepared to share a lifetime commitment like that with you."
"Do you love me? No, not do you love me with YOU, do you love me?"
"Do I love you? No, not do I love you with ME, do I love you?"
If he/she/it is not capable/willing to have these AND MORE conversations with you/them/it, he/she/it is not worth your groin sweat.
And if anyone/thing tries to push you past all of those Importants and your own, previously established Rules...please, talk to me. I am not afraid of prison. Seriously. I might actually get that Shakespeare tattoo I've been thinking about. We all win.
I love you. I always will. I only want you to be happy. And healthy. And safe. And comfortable. You can talk to me about anything. I know I haven't always been that way. But I am now. I've grown up some, and I only regret it took as long as it has. Come to me if you need/want to discuss anything. I will keep cringing to a minimum.
I love you.
2. How do I apply this to myself?
The vast majority of all SUUUREEUS issues are power-divided in my head by how I apply them to society and how I apply them to myself. Smarts? FAIL/gain more. Class? NEAT/gain more. Wealth? NO JUDGEMENT/gain more. Sex? NO JUDGEMENT/
Oh, you see where this is going.
/not until marriage
HA REMIX!!!
I view sex the same way I view language: it only holds the value you allow it.
Example: the word 'verb.'
I once worked with and lusted after a guy who used the word 'verb' the same way Paula Dean uses the substance 'dairy product.' This dapper man had 'verb' diabeetus. I cannot think of a single sentence he uttered without that specific word. And he dropped it so eloquently, so fluidly...
"There's a verbing mouse in my house...my roommate used its dead body to send a message to its fellows. 'See, verb-face? This is what's verbing coming to you!''
'And she looks at me and I'm all...verb. This is gonna be a verbing cake order.'
'Verbing verb...'
Some of those make more sense in context. I should maybe mention that he had read my man Chandler, which caused little cartoon hearts to float over my head. Also he wrote poetry. Jack Kerouac poetry, but still. Also, he had the finest noun I've ever watched walk away. First Wife and I used to have competitions over who could sneak the most peeks. Pretty sure she was cheating. Still, we both could have gotten fired for sexual harrassment. And that means more than matching tattoos.
Even Shakespeare tattoos.
I forget why I brought him up. Now I'm just thinking about his noun.
RIGHT. WORDS. The value of.
Treat sex like a toy, and that's all it is. Treat sex like a treat, and that's all it is. But if sex is something special--something unique, something reserved, something verbing exclusive--that is what it is.
I may have mentioned: at the time of this writing, I am 25. My blood flows red. I have the internet. I watch Game of Thrones. There is a word that comes to mind that sometimes applies to me. Word as VERB. The kind of word that sometimes drives my generation out to bars or hookah joints or street corners or libraries or internets. While I, nonjudgemental, I swear, stay home. Alone. Wording. On the internet.
Because, someday, I hope to share verbs with a special noun. I want it to be a gift, not an action. I want it to matter, even if it hasn't, in his past, mattered. I won't care about what his scorecard says. What will matter is that he is the first one to make marks on mine.
One could argue that I could expect the same treatment of each/every/figmentary partner. But, for me, sex is not about what is taken or expected. It is about what is given.
And, as I assume this kind of buildup stays with you, there will be a catch. The giving will include a week or so's worth of 'verbing him blind' which I will not be discussing on my blog.
Unless he's into that.
This turned out longer than expected HAHAHAHAHAHA
-J
*this is not open for discussion SHUT UP Jib is number one. As in 'the cut of your, I like'.
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