It’s been over two months since I’ve had sex and I am so sexually frustrated. After spring break in late March, I had no interest in intercourse with anyone. The Sam thing totally messed me up. The kicker is that getting to know him made me less interested in having meaningless sex with random guys. But all the guys I bothered getting emotionally invested in turned out to have girlfriends. Wonderful, right? It was like being between a rock and a hard … well, you get the picture.
I have been incredibly chaste since arriving in the city. You’d think that the hordes of summer interns and students and young-ish professionals would mean nonstop hooking up, but quite honestly, I haven’t even partied that hard here. Hangovers seem extraordinarily cliche, one-night stands even more so. The only conclusion I can come to is that I miraculously grew up over the past two months, but I think we can all agree that’s a patent impossibility.
There haven’t exactly been major temptations anyway. Third base, after all, is still fair game which makes everything slightly more bearable (not that I’ve even gotten near that since leaving school). But lately, it’s been getting harder and harder to deal with the tension. Intercourse may be highly overrated but sometimes I feel like nothing else can quite satisfy. So even though my current abstinence streak is still going strong, I’m not sure if I can really wait until my next relationship.
Thank goodness for the senior who kept me entertained through reading period and final exams. It’s a shame he’s not within booty-calling distance (though I still tried to lure him away from Boston during Commencement Week after I’d left to New York). I think it could’ve evolved into eventual sex if not for the unfortunate timing. Most of my unwillingness to engage in casual intercourse stems from a refusal to make myself vulnerable. Unlike those who preceded him, he was an extraordinarily nice, decent guy and one of the very few in recent memory who gained my trust. Plus, he didn’t have a girlfriend.