I went to Cooking Club tonight, at a friend of a friend’s house in Santa Monica.
There’s minimal real cooking involved in this – basically, we just kind of cheer the hostess on while we open bottles of wine. But tonight, there was an added plus – a sex toy & accessory party! So the reps brought out a table of lubricants, massage oils, lotions and edible powders, and lectured and demonstrated them for two hours. They actually had better things than I’d expected. The orange creamsicle massage lotion, for example. Tasty.
I won a prize – a condom and lube sample – for being the first (in a race of two of us) to put a condom on a vibrator (turned on “high”) one-handed. It will immediately go in my sock drawer with the few items of other sex-related things I’m just not using right now. Which leads me to having to explain – why, with the exception of my weekend in New Orleans, I’ve been awfully chaste for the last six months or so.
It took an extended bout of chastity to figure out what my philosophy on sex is. I still can’t really explain it, except for that one line: when I consider how my light is spent. To me, it’s diluting my light, my energy, my ka to have sex without emotional attachment. It’s impure. It’s giving in to a weakness – not just for the inherent pleasure in sex, but it’s also giving in to the human weakness to need someone else there, to fill the space.
There have been times in my life where I have used sex as a fix for loneliness. There have been times when I have traded it for a reprive from my own insecurities. There have been times when I have done it just for the distraction, to give me something to look to, to think about. Those were the times when I’m just glad no-one gave me access to serious drugs.
I should be able to get past all those weaknesses though. I can transform loneliness into cherished solitude, can believe in myself enough to be secure, can create a positive world around me that I never want to be distracted from. I can focus my energy into happiness and light and love. And sex, with all the mental and power issues that go with it, dilutes that light. At twenty-six, I literally view sex without connection as siphoning off the light and energy that is better kept and channeled into more positive things.
There’s a flip side to this, which is sex with emotion. Sex that creates joy, rather than just a physical reaction. So now, I choose not to have sex unless I can put my heart into it. Unless I care about the person I’m with, unless I’m doing it to share joy with someone I trust and adore, it isn’t worth it. Sex with someone I really care about – whether it’s a boyfriend I’m in love with, or a guy friend I really care about, or somewhere in between – that kind of connection creates light. It taps into love, it taps into my heart, it increases the positive.
There’s the political issues to sex as well, there is the idea that I don’t want to be seen as some piece of tail, some girl who was too desperate, insecure or just plain stupid to hold out. I am no-one’s cheap lay. I do not have to fuck some guy just because I’m in Vegas, or because I’m at a party in a slutty outfit, or because I’ve been making out with him. There is that.
But mostly, to me, it is just the idea of keeping my light intact, of only offering of myself when it is going to bring joy on more than just a fleeting physical basis. After all, I can live without sex just fine, but I can’t really handle the idea of having that level of intimacy with another human being…yet not having any sort of accompanying mental or emotional connection to go with it.
I think America would be a better place if people didn’t so much suppress sex for conservative reasons, as raise it up as something special. It’s not special right now in this society, it’s just taboo, and is shoved into the gutter in a strangely Puritan/exploitative world, rather than elevated to what it should be. As long as sex is kept titillating, commercialized yet repressed, I don’t believe it can be accepted, and the consequences in the hearts and minds of people have been disastrous.
But for now, I, Jillian, will likely not be having sex for an awfully long time. My little New Orleans affair is one thing: I’m friends with the guy. We genuinely care about each other. But with some guy I’ve met at an L.A.party or a Vegas club? Unless there’s an instant spiritual connection? No. I don’t do that anymore. I stopped doing that a long time ago. I can’t. I have already spent too much of my twenties dampening my spirit with self-indulgence and weakness.