Sexscapades with Abstinence and Poop

The discussion of abstinence in church youth group filled my mind with scenes from “Footloose,” with conservative pastors and teachers telling me that sex is the devil’s playground and invoking city council meetings to preserve my generation’s sexual purity.

As a Christian, I’ve chosen abstinence until if or when I get married. When I arrived as a freshman, I was aware of the stereotypes around social life and sex on campus and wondered if, being in a new place of vulnerability and freedom, my view on abstinence would change.

My choice is not motivated by the fear of upsetting my spiritual family, the worry of negative sex experiences or religious conservatism.

I do not think that such motivations for abstinence are bad, but they aren’t primary. Rather, I’ve chosen abstinence out of God’s love for me.

When and if I do have sex, I want it to be with someone who fully knows, sees and loves me. Someone who won’t value me just for what my body can offer or how I can satisfy him; someone whose affections for me won’t change based on my performance or attitude.

Christianity describes our relationship with God like this. In scandalous terms, the Bible depicts God as a lover – one who really sees, understands, and desires to know us intimately – not for what we can offer or how we can please Him, but simply because He loves us. Sex, a naturally good desire and act, is a representation of this intimacy with God.

For these reasons, my choice for abstinence is motivated by the faith that God’s love alone can completely satisfy me. It’s not easy and it certainly isn’t popular, but for now I am content to know that my worth or identity is not defined by sex.

 

 

I was pet sitting. The first time S came over to the house, we talked for hours. We had great chemistry, but no one made a move. I decided to cut to the chase.

“It’s late, and you’re welcome to spend the night. There’s a spare room upstairs, or you can sleep with me. The choice is yours, S. Zero pressure.”

“Your room, if that’s okay.”

We climbed under the covers, each plastered to opposite edges of the bed. I was so confused and frustrated. And horny. Uncharacteristically bold, I made another, not-so-subtle move.

“S, can I give you a kiss before we go to bed?”

“THANK GOD. I thought you’d never say anything.”

At some point in that long night, I realized that I had forgotten what I was really in this house for… pet sitting. I snuck my way out of S’s arms and headed out in the dark to let the dogs out.

SQUISH.

I stepped in a pile of dog shit. I let out a frustrated groan. I could hear S waking up and rustling in the sheets.

“You okay?”

“Please don’t come out here. I just stepped in dog shit. This is so embarrassing.”

“Can I help you?”

“No thanks. Please just go back to bed.”

I cleaned up the mess and decided to hop in the shower. A couple of minutes in, the door knob turned. This time, S made the first move.

“Mind if I join you?”

S and I hooked up for several weeks, and it was always casual. In retrospect, we were both making sense of profound pain elsewhere in our lives.

For me, stepping in dog shit was a metaphorical beginning: S and I took the shit that life had dealt us, and in that little old house, one shower at a time, we outgrew our sorrow, and eventually, each other. I regret nothing.

 

Here are two selections for this week. Published bi-weekly in The Campus, Great Sexpectations hopes to increase sex positive dialogue through storytelling.

Please keep sending your embarrasing, funny, positive stories about sex to greatsexpectations@aol.com. Submissions are published on a rolling basis.