Sex is important.
Sex is really important. But guess what?
I dated someone and did not have sex with them for almost 3 months. I didn’t regret it. I didn’t plan to wait 3 months. She didn’t ask me to wait 3 months. I just did it. Allow me to set the scene.
It’s the wonderful summer of 2014. The birds were chirping, my skin was LIT, my natural hair journey was just kind of warming up, it was a good time. I won’t say girls ALWAYS liked me, but something about that particular summer was a turning point. I was happy, I was meeting good women with regularity (perhaps because I was becoming a better man), I wasn’t as uptight anymore; everything was different.
One day on Twitter, I was just freely talking about music, as I usually do, and found myself in agreement with a very pretty, very brown, very tall young woman. I kind of knew who she was, since mutual friends of hers always spoke about her to me like she was a local celebrity; just far enough that you can’t touch, but just close enough that you could fantasize. Anyways, our convo is interrupted by a retweet that says….
Why don’t you two go on a date???
The person who wrote it was one of our mutual friends. I was with it, but I was patient enough to get a read on it first. I’m quietly watching it unfold on my computer and she makes some remark about my skin, with the chocolate bar emoji.
I DM’d her, we exchanged info, we text for a little bit and then meet up a few weeks later. We had chicken….because if you ever went on a date with me, you ate chicken with me. We’re in the restaurant talking about what we’re into, she’s regaling me with tales of punching girls in the club, I’m thinking “her butt wasn’t that big on IG, and I didn’t know her cheekbones were this perfect”; it was a fun night. I couldn’t really get a read on if she was into me or not, she seemed sort of passive, like her mind wasn’t there. We hugged and went our separate ways, and I just decided to let things play out.
She texts me a few days later “we can go on another date, if you want, I had fun”, which was such an out of the ordinary “test the waters” move that I was sort of…intrigued? Most women are really forward with me and don’t leave anything up to chance. She proposed the idea of another date to me almost as if she wanted to say “I mean, I wanna do it, but if you don’t, whatever!”, and I was very intrigued by this. Of course, we went on a second date. And a date after that. Then like 4 more after that. Then some more.
With the passage of all of this dating time, you are probably wondering “Robby, where’s the filth?? What’s this sappy bullshit??”. We went on a bunch of dates and I was very attracted to her, but I didn’t feel the need to try and run a 40 yard dash into THE COOTIE. I barely even mentioned sex. I made a few suggestive comments here and there, but nothing crazy. I was….really enjoying the courtship aspect of dating her, totally outside of the realm of getting my meat moistened.
Look. I really like sex and filth, and all that comes with that. But in that summer, the summer of 2014, I felt a bit…..waterlogged by the filth. Whether it was women already in my life or women who were about to be, somewhere along the line, I just kind of stopped thinking about sex so much. Sex permeated enough of my life that I started to see it as more like an option, as opposed to something I NEEDED to have. Sexual contact became iced tea, as opposed to OXYGEN. Sex always feels like oxygen when you’re not having it (or not having enough). When you’ve had your fill of it, your perspective on it changes.
Of course I was curious as to how sex between us would unfold, I’m no saint. But, I learned a lot about myself. The inner peace I felt when I didn’t feel so wrapped up in sex with her (and I eased off the filth with other women, too). I figured out that I really do like and appreciate the wholesome aspects of getting to know someone, just making her laugh, trying to figure out who she was. I wasn’t doing things with wanting to have sex in the back of my mind. I knew it would happen eventually, I just wasn’t ultra-concerned with needing it immediately. I felt…free. I only needed to focus on her as a person, not how she could possibly pleasure me.
Unsurprisingly, this whole not having sex thing definitely had an effect on her. I wasn’t outright saying “NO, DON’T TOUCH MY WEE WEE!” or anything, but I wasnt forcing the issue. We hung out maybe every other week or week and a half, we texted often, we were in good standing. We were both clearly happy with each other’s presence, but we weren’t having sex. I could tell she was getting a little antsy, because one day she called me when she was out with her friends, and asked me in a super serious voice:
DO YOU LIKE ME?
At this point, we were dating for about 2 months, I pretty damn clearly liked her, but considering my intimacy hadn’t gone past kissing her hi and goodbye and a few drunken makeout fests, she was questioning things. She asked if I was I bored (I wasn’t), or if I was playing with her (nope, and don’t play with a black woman’s emotions). We hashed that out and got off the phone. Everything was ok. She didn’t outright ask me “Why havent we clapped genitalia?” but I felt it in her voice, the way she let her words hang in her hybrid northern/southern lilt.
But why did she feel that way? Why did I feel like sex was kind of the thing that confirmed you at least liked me past “concert buddy/pizza partner/inappropriate text sender?” I feel that we both had kind of been taught that sexual contact consummates how you feel about someone, if you actually like them in the first place. This isn’t necessarily true; my feelings at the time were real, before the sex. I even kind of questioned if she liked me, because we hadn’t had sex and she wasn’t pushy about it. Strange how that worked.
One day she told me “come over, I’m making tacos, I’m gonna have tequila, don’t bring anything”. I wasn’t rushing to have sex with her, but I’m not a rookie: tacos??? tequila???? You want me to dine on the #other taco, more than likely. Once I started to feel “sex may be on the table tonight”(maybe literally HEH HEH HEH), I REALLY wanted it. So, I put on one of my finest tiny shirts, put on the perfect amount of cologne and went over there. As I walked down the block, I felt something I hadn’t in a while.
I was nervous. I was anxious, which is typical before having sex with a new girl, but I was NERVOUS. What if I’m terrible after all this time? What if we don’t have sex (I’d be fine with this, its always the woman’s choice)? What if we aren’t sexually compatible? WHAT IF THE TACOS AIN’T FIRE???
Luckily for us both, none of my worries came to fruition. The tacos were fire, the sex was fire, I tequila’d myself until my forehead was damp and my eyes were blurry, it all went smoothly. I felt a sweeping sense of relief, and the easygoing energy in the room was refreshing.We were both happy to finally have that experience; all of that tension was eased. I really like sexual tension, but relieving it is great too. We kept dating and having sex after, even got into a relationship (that I am no longer in). All in all, we had many good times.
She then used the afterglow to reveal that she had been talking to her friends about me, trying to figure out why I was taking my time to have sex with her.
“Maybe he has a really small dick, and he’s trying to make sure you really like him before he lets you see it!”