Life is funny. Sometimes sh*t happens and we don’t understand why. It can take years to come to terms with something. I am now at that place where I can confidently open up about this experience, setting my ego, pride and embarrassment aside.
This occurred a few years ago, so time has healed all as they say.
When I was in my mid 20s, I was an OK looking girl. I was actually a model at the time. I would consider myself to be above average looking but kind of ‘girl next door’. Take from that what you will.
Up until that point I had enough interest in me from guys and sex was never a problem. N-E-V-E-R. All the previous boyfriends I had were interested in me and attracted to me. Sex was normal. Part of my life.
This new boyfriend seemed to want to muck around with me, have fun with me, but would never sleep with me.
At first I didn’t want to break it off for such a superficial reason, after all I didn’t know the exact reason why. But Friday and Saturday nights passed. I stayed over… and lo and behold… nothing would happen.
We were intimate with each other in the sense that we held hands and acted like a couple, but when it came to doing the deed? Nup. Wouldn’t happen.
After two months had passed, I broached the topic with him as sensitively as I could. He said that he liked me too much and was scared that he would ‘lose interest’ if he slept with me too soon. He hinted that it would happen in the next couple of months.
A little baffled by his reasoning, I tried to understand. So in a nutshell he didn’t want sex with me because I’m too likeable? What? But surely eventually I would have to sleep with him if we were to move the relationship forward (i.e get married).
I found this reasoning to be quite endearing. So I left it alone.
Three months passed us by and… well… nothing. While I didn’t define our relationship by whether we had sex there were just ample opportunities where it could have happened and it… didn’t. Kissing lead to nothing. My first moves didn’t amount to anything (shock horror! for the first time in my young adult life).
It started to make me feel quite insecure. Why wasn’t he sleeping with me? Was there something wrong with me? Did I smell? Was he a closet homosexual? Did he have something wrong downstairs? I didn’t care that he wasn’t sleeping with me but my mind just wanted the logic behind it. By now ample time had passed, we were very comfortable with each other. It just didn’t add up. Something didn’t add up.