This week we have a guest post from Vikki of PrettyPinkLotusBud.org You can also find her on Instagram.
Have you ever asked yourself this question before? Too many of us can relate to feeling devalued, self-conscious, guilty, and being ever critical of questioning our own desire to have sex with someone too soon. It’s not the best feeling at all.
Your smile catches his eye as you walk back to your car after a fresh pedi. There’s instant chemistry. You stand outside laughing and talking for hours that you wish would magically turn into forever but only last until the rain comes. Face buried in your phone, you’re constantly texting sweet nothings. He calls you just to hear your voice. Is this guy real?
You share. . . conversations about romance, life, and politics; appetizers on your dates at Chili’s, Friday’s, and The Hard Rock Cafe. He stares as you ride beside him on the passenger side of his black Jeep Wrangler while you pretend to be asleep on a four-hour road trip he invited you to last minute to some small town you’d never even heard of before you met him.
People are staring. . .”Excuse me,” their eyes seem to say, “You got a little infatuation right there on your face.”
As you walk past the storefront windows you catch a glimpse of yourself and think, “Damn, we make a sexy couple.” Is this really happening right now?
You have to ask yourself if you’re dreaming. The answer is constantly. Fuck fantasies fill your daydreams and all you can think about is him filling that void between your thighs.
You play Sevyn Streeter “Won’t Stop” on repeat. Who am I right now? Because you have to ask yourself that, too. He’s making you feel like a seventeen-year-old girl. How is he wielding this sorcery that makes you want to rip out your vagina, scream, “Here, just take it!” and storm away?
You’ve been on one, two, three. . .wait, did that count as a date? You’ve lost count. Never once did he say anything sexually inappropriate or attempt to kiss you without consent. You are thoroughly impressed given how absolutely irresistible you are. You are a beautiful and confident woman; no doubt about it.
Self-control is so sexy. It turns pussy into instant pudding, ready to be slurped up at any time.
The friend zone does not exist for a man of this caliber. And you have every plan to drop drawers on site when you are with him again. Then he calls… .to ask you out on yet another date. You politely decline. He sounds disappointed until you let him in on your other plans. Oh you, my dear, are so over holding out on the goodies that they practically already gone.
Instead, you both agree to get some drinks and a room. You get to the room and immediately fall into one another, protected of course. You fall into a place where time does not exist, slow music playing to the background of sex sounds that live up to every fantasy that played in your mind over the last two weeks.
Wait, what!? Two weeks? Will he text me after this? Will we go out on another date? Did I fuck him too soon? How soon is too soon? We did all those things and it’s only been two weeks? Wait? I don’t even know his last name. Ugh! It felt like so much longer. I feel like a total slut.
Why do we beat ourselves up over these things? Should such things even be judged by time? Or at all for that matter?
I used to ask myself these questions, particularly if I didn’t get texts back or when “Good morning, beautiful,” turned into, “GM”; when the sparkly dates ended and the excuses began. You start to wonder, what happened and what you did wrong. You replay each moment again in your head to pinpoint the exact coordinates of your little detour.
Things have obviously changed, but why? I’ll tell you why. Cause patriarchy got you trippin’.
You really believe there’s a timeline for falling in love, being in love, and having amazing sexual experiences. Perhaps he does, too. And if the experience doesn’t fit the timeline, you immediately dismiss, discredit, and question it. We’ve been taught to associate our value with quantities of time and partners instead of the connection and quality of an experience.
We discredit a two-week passionate romance and in exchange, we accept a two-year cycle of emotional abuse, because that’s love. I know I’m guilty.
We are taught to liken ourselves to products and services that require investments to acquire returns. Time is the investment and sex is the return.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
There will be guys who won’t call you after sex and there will be guys that you won’t call after sex, whether the wait has been two minutes, two days, two weeks or two months. It’s a simple push and pull; give and take and nothing more.
All the reasons you decided to have sex with this person (hopefully) had everything to do with you. In other words, it was your desire.
So why is this even a question? You just had the most amazing experience ever and remember all good things come to an end. To honor your desires is a great thing. It lets the universe know to send you more of those (desires). Sex too soon cannot change that.
Questioning your desires is dangerous.
Patriarchy has some men thinking that they’ve gotten the best thing a woman has to offer when that’s not even possible. Pussy is not the prize.
Pussy is magical now, never, and forever. Don’t ever question that truth.
If you find yourself engulfed in a moment of pure, passionate certainty, and YOU decide to give in to that moment, never give anyone else’s actions or inaction the power to shake your certainty. Remember, you are an irresistibly beautiful, and confident woman.
And if after recognizing all of that, you still find yourself questioning whether you fucked him too soon. . .JUST STOP. There’s no such thing as too soon. It’s an imaginary social construct, which ultimately means,
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