On sex and dating...

I stumbled upon a ridiculously good-looking man named Christian, and as Jesus and I discussed life over a cup of tea, I joked about how it'd be a good way to get around the whole "marry a Christian" thing. He thought it was funny, of course, because He knows my intentions. Obviously. Especially since this Christian was already well-taken and we both knew it.

I've been wondering about the dating thing lately, mainly because I'm not allowed to introduce new characters in my life at this current juncture, thereby making it the perfect time to sort some junk out.

I've never dated as a Christian before. As I was describing how I pictured the evening progressing to one of my few Christian friends, it went something like this:
I picture sitting there silently sipping [soy]milk with a straw until it makes those empty bubble noises.
And then I'll say, "So..um..."
And the guy will say, "Yeah."
And we'll nod.
And the silence will be deafening.
Until somebody drops a plate and then we'll laugh at the clapping.
And then the silence will return.
And then he'll say something like, "So, I have to work early in the morning so we should..."
And I'll agree.
And then he'll hug me in a stiff awkward hug and that'll be that.

That to me is what a good Christian date for a good Christian girl looks like. And I don't like it. *crinkles nose and shakes head*

So I asked around. "What does a Christian date look like?" and the majority of the answers I got were of the "I don't know" variety. Do people never wonder? Or do they just play it by ear?

I would imagine that Christians playing things by ear without thinking things through is not the wisest idea. I think that's what they "lovingly" call "hedonism".

Frankly, I've never been on a date before. At least, not to my recollection. Well, at least, not the tv type of date with the dinner, the idle chat, the movie and the awkward quasi-platonic journey home. My Christian friend says it's because I've only ever been with douchebags. *nods in agreement*

But to be honest, when he said that, I wondered what excluded me from being the douchebag. Sex is my thing. And by "my thing" I mean it's the thing that I have the most trouble with since this whole Christianity thing hit. Well, aside from the church thing and the whole trying not to get self-righteous around other self-righteous Christians simply because I feel I understand what "grace" means thing...

Let's get the obvious out of the way, and by obvious, I mean the things that Christians, and in particular, pastors, seem to be most worried about, only I'll throw a star in it so people don't find my blog searching for po*n. There. I said it. Mumbly, with a star. I think that may be the only thing in the world that is taboo to me. Why? Because I hate it. Passionately. I think it's voluntary rape, if that makes any sense. They consent to it, but in my opinion, they don't consent to what they are actually doing. But nobody looks at the eyes, right? Don't want to kill the mood or whatever. I just don't think that people choose to participate in that kind of thing when they have a full deck of cards to play with and I, for one, think it's horrible that they, and especially women, subject themselves to that kind of demeaning, terribleness because they somehow end up in a place where it seems like a viable option. I absolutely despise it.

And just in case somebody thinks I'm vehemently against it because I have some sort of secret issue with it, I'll explain. I have this thing where if you give me a picture of somebody that you believe shows their true self, I'll be able to tell you what their core person is like. I will be able to tell you their motivations. Their insecurities. Their deep-rooted hurt and pain. And so, in consequence, there is no way I can look at that kind of thing, and particularly the women, without seeing all that and at that point, it really becomes watching abuse or even rape on a screen and that bothers me deeply.

So, no, that is not at all the trouble I have blending sex and Christianity. *shudders*

Anyway, so in the bookstore a couple of weeks ago, I ran across a book that said that the emphasis on virginity was to blame for all of the major issues women face today. And at first, I was shocked that somebody would write a book saying virginity is a bad thing and right away assumed that the author was a (former?) skank who wanted to justify her promiscuity somehow, so she wrote a book. And I was partly right. Well, mostly right. But she did have one point that I wish she'd have elaborated most on- we do put way, way too much emphasis on a woman's sexuality. Whether it be through promoting promiscuity and sexual "freedom" or by pushing purity and telling women to cover themselves up, the message is the same: women are all about sex. And that, to me, is a major hurdle that women face. And me, in particular.

1 Peter 3:3 says this:
Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— 4 but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious.

Back in the day, and still in some societies today, the parents picked the spouses or it was arranged based on status or place in society. Now, we choose our mates based on attributes we value, even if those attributes are not what aids in creating an enduring bond and relationship. Add to that the baggage we carry that clouds our perception and the sway it creates towards certain qualities based on past experiences and we could be setting ourselves up for disaster.

Seeing as I'm fairly experimental and ridiculously flexible, I decided that my poor track record of men and the patterns I can't seem to break out of make me unfit to choose my own mate and as such, four of my closest friends, along with my brother and his girlfriend (who is also one of my closest friends) have now acquired veto power over anybody I choose. They are allowed to interrogate any guy of interest if they need to and I am to present the entire story, not a glorified, altered version to make him look good (which is how I managed to stay in abusive relationships in the past), and they will assess his suitability and exert their veto power in consequence.

So far, they've vetoed one guy already. I'll explain.

I'm a wordy kind of girl. I am a challenge. I like a challenge. I need a challenge. And I found myself challenging a guy I had found in blogland. At first, the conversation was simple and trivial, but then something he said about how we should be free to explore love with multiple partners sparked my debatey bits and I got a little confrontational, defending his daughter's right to have a dad who shows her what a good [godly] man should be. What kind of example of a man was he setting for her? What kind of man was she going to end up if this was her example? He brushed me off, and when I happened to be in his town late last summer, I messaged him to ask if he wanted to meet me in person. He said he was busy. And that was that.

Fast forward a few months, and I got a message from him asking me when I was going down there again because he'd like to meet me. Or maybe, he said, he'd even drive all the way up here. Really? Why the sudden change of heart?

After a few back-and-forths, it came out that he had recently learned that I was pretty. How did he put it? Something like, "I was looking through your pictures [on facebook] and you're really beautiful. I was like... hello!" And so, like any good girl without normal compliment processing abilities nor adequate man selection skills, I copied and pasted the message into a chat window of one of my vetoers. "That's kind of a douchey thing to say after all this time," she said. I resisted. I pinged another friend with veto power and did the same. "Wow. That's douchey. Veto." After the fourth veto, I finally got the hint that no arguments in the world about how awesome his arms are (they're dreamy) were going to get them to change their mind.

"The tribe has spoken," and his flame got put out.

It's hard. Part of me wants to grab that flame and run. :D

Logically, I know. I know that nothing productive or constructive will come out of a relationship in which my mind doesn't matter at all. Nor will a healthy relationship stem out of such disrespect and disregard for my person. And I haven't even touched the "is he a Christian?" question yet.

I do want somebody to see me as a soul, rather than as an object.

But like I said a thousand words ago at the top of this post, sex is an issue for me. Sex gives me confidence. Nobody raises a woman up like the man who wants to sleep with her, even if it is all temporary, manipulative and fake.

What my vetoers heard from his message was, "You were an absolute nobody until I saw what you looked like," and what I heard was, "You're beautiful." I hate being an object, yet it is the easiest (temporary) confidence-booster there is. I let myself endure disrespect and abuse because I don't expect more for myself, I don't expect men to see me as a soul. Hence, the need for people to step in and veto my poor choices.

I used to be the girl who loved sex. You know the one I'm talking about? The one who says she doesn't attach love to sex. They're two separate things. And I used to really believe that. You really can have sex without the love, but it's such a low standard both for a person and for sex itself. The best part about one night stand sex is the randomness of it. The sex itself is rarely good because neither of the parties knows the other person well enough. There's no intimacy. There's the bare minimum of trust necessary to get over the fear of something terrible occurring. It's sex without all the best parts. But I used to love it anyway.

And then I fell in love. And sure, people will say, "Of course sex is different with somebody you love," but that's not my point. My point is that I was in love and I had the sex that in love people have and the relationship went on for a year and a halfish, with discussions of marriage and future things and then he (a self-described devout, church-going Christian, no less) called me in the middle of the night one random night and confessed that he wasn't at all the person he claimed to be, that it was all just a game and I was just a toy all along. I was a vacation. A fun ride. That, I think, was the moment in my life when love and sex finally cemented together. Had I known, and had I agreed to that kind of relationship, I would have been ok with it. But all of a sudden, I was in a place where I was told from the very beginning by the man himself that I should expect more (a lie) and so I did and got absolutely destroyed. It was like a rape of the soul. And in the end, it's the same thing, whether I had known or not, right? Either way, it's just sex. But I got to see first hand how powerful it can be when it's in the wrong hands. I got to feel what happens to the soul when we don't take sex seriously and are made blatantly and crushingly aware of the consequences.

So yes, you can have sex and it can be a short-lived physical act that you can trick yourself into believing has no consequence on the soul, or you can expect more for yourself and seek out what God intends for sex- a joining of the souls that brings people closer to knowing God.

And I want that. I want my soul to experience that. But I know my patterns. I know myself. And the only way I'll ever get there is if I trust God and trust the people who love me to show me where my standards need to be to get there.

So what does a Christian date look like? I don't know either. And frankly, I'm not going to find out anytime soon both because of the inevitable constant vetoes and because after a string of terribly abusive situations, I need time alone to rebuild my life and my person such that I won't let it happen again. And if the posse vetoes a guy in a matter of seconds, it's safe to assume I'm not there yet. But that's ok because I'm free to grow and learn and lean into God to help me be a stronger, healthier person and in consequence, one who makes better, more godly decisions.

I'm free.