Hasta La Vista, BabyAt this point, it's not so much a question of if as it is a question of when I will lose it. Owen brought it up today while we were making out and sporadically watching Shaun of the Dead. Of course, he had to repeat himself about five times because I couldn't hear him over the sound of David's intestines being ripped out by a horde of hungry zombies.
It was never really a question for me whether I'd wait until marriage. For as long as I can remember, the answer has been simple: I'll have sex when I'm ready. I try not to judge those who wait until marriage, and when I do slip up it tends to be over their belief in love lasting forever and other concepts jaded young me finds naive.
I'm a modern child, all right. Cynical and hypersexual. Wrapped up in my Hello Kitty blanket as I ramble about my impending loss of innocence.
I am young, yes. Younger than I thought I would be. 14 years old, 15 in a couple months. I watch My Little Pony and still giggle at Your Mom jokes. In many ways, I'm about as emotionally mature as a potato.
On the other hand, I'm far more intelligent than most of my peers. I am knowledgeable about sex in theory and comfortable in my own skin, at least most of the time. I have a mother willing to provide birth control if I ask.
Oh, that'll be fun. Not looking forward to that conversation.
And then there's that big question looming over my head:
Do I feel ready?
Hell no. But will I ever?
When it comes to love and sex, everyone's different. I tease my sister because she's 16 and has never been kissed. She's mature enough to know she's not ready for a relationship and I respect that. But she's always teasing me about my small breasts and I needed something pointless to pick on her about so we'd be even.
So there. This is my goodbye to you all, wise or not.