I've Had It: No More Sex Before Marriage!

No sex before marriage! As a feminist this statement would have driven me insane a couple of months ago. I'm in my late twenties (just to avoid saying that I'm actually into my early thirties), I'm smart, I'm fun, I'm driven, I'm independent, I have some money saved up, and I'm usually pretty laid-back. Also—because otherwise none of this is relevant in our society—I'm quite charming and pretty.

OK, OK! You have to take my word for it and I'm sure you could as easily rephrase all of my above personality traits and depict me as a way less attractive person. I'll even help you out: smart ends up being condescending, fun becomes crazy, driven is quite close to stubborn, independent is a positive spin on being selfish, money-saved-up basically states that I have no fixed income, and finally laid-back means that I smoke and drink on a regular basis!

I'm not perfect! But come on, I'm not much worse than most people and the industry of marriage is still going strong. The only conclusion I can draw is that I must be doing something wrong. Let me assure you, I am not a strong believer in weddings. However, I'm still impressed when two people are able to love each other so much that they decide never to part (at least officially) in the (probably) next 50+ years. I don't love the idea of marriage, but I do love the idea of having a partner in life and sharing key moments. I'm really OK travelling alone, going to the movies alone, and even going to the restaurant alone, but if I'm honest with my independent self, I would much rather do these things with someone I love and who loves me back. So here I am, wanting to find a version of prince charming which basically means for me that mister Prince has to be really nice and funny (I've decided to let the good looking guys to much younger women. Yes, I'm kind that way!).

So here I am, having moved to a new continent, the new year gone washing away all of my previous expectations and fantasies.

2018 and I were going to become reality buddies, which I took to mean, "if I don't put myself out there, then it will be long before someone puts himself... well... in here."

Too much?!

Anyway, I did put myself out there and it was working so well that one week later I had three dates lining up! I was feeling like...

I organized for the three dates to happen on the same day. I figured: we have three meals a day, why not use them?!

The day before the big-date-day, the breakfast-date-guy cancelled on me telling me he had some kind of food poisoning (something you should never hear from a guy you might end up having sex with).

Then, the lunch-date-guy never showed up and since I'm always that person who can't, for the life of her, arrive late anywhere, I do wonder if he saw me and walked away (but that's a reality check I'll deal with another day)...

At that point, my big-dating-day was a complete failure so you can imagine I went into the diner-date with much anxiety and unwanted sweat. Fortunately, diner-date-guy was there waiting for me with a glass of red wine and the date went perfect. So perfect that we saw each other again a second and a third time.

All this dating was happening in the US and I was not completely oblivious to the fact that the third date in that country seemed to be some kind of a big sexual deal. I had heard that having sex before the third date was considered a rookie mistake and synonym for poor judgment (however, as usual, only for the woman), but having sex on the third date was socially accepted.

In my home country, deciding when to have sex is not constrained by social rules (or at least not as clearly stated). We usually end up having sex when we want to, whether it's the first date (assuming you're not a virgin though) or the thirtieth date. The key element being: do you want to have sex, yes or no?

To get back to diner-date-guy, I decided I liked him a lot on date #3 and it seemed more than reciprocal with all the side texting and late night phone calls. Nevertheless, I didn't abide to the third-date-rule as I hate being told what to do (I can be a little stubborn that way—or was it driven?) and the dating continued. Diner-date-guy and I went for a romantic picnic at sunset on date #4, then wine testing dinner on date #5, and so arrived date #6: A home-cooked meal, he said! Oh, how sweet and romantic! Come on guys, I'm not a complete moron, I also knew what I was getting myself into. And so, inevitably... a version of that happened :D

I was feeling very good about this and even more about him, wondering happily: "could this truly turn out to be something real?" Almost believing it could (although if I'm honest I've probably thought that about most dates I've ever had). I wasn't sure how to explain it, but I felt different, he was different: a different type of sweet, a different type of smart, a different type of funny, a different type of ambitious, and a different type of kind. He was simply wonderful and I felt wonderful with him. "Could he be The One?" I pondered ashamed as the feminist inside of me struggled not to launch a killing attack on my Disney princess side.

At last, I was finally right. Oh! How he turned out to be "The One!"

The One, alright! The one not calling and the one not texting me back ever again after that night. 2018 reality-check: Hi honey, welcome to disillusion land!

Really?? Is he kidding??

Why would anyone spend so many dates and hours listening to someone else's childhood stories, past experiences, fears and tears only to have sex ONCE with them? At least, get your money's worth in sex before ghosting out on the foolish b*tch! I, too, had to endure the diners, the stories about the whole latin family, the bad jokes, the smoky breath, and the self-involved questionings. Don't I, at least, get to have durable sex after these six dates? Shouldn't the rule be 1 date = minimum 1 sexual intercourse? It seems like such a waste of time and money to only have sex once. If all there was to it was that unique (as in: it only happened once) intercourse, then a prostitute would have probably been the better idea.

...Or is it really only about the chase?

It seems that dating in another continent is just too much of a stretch for my little European brain where people actually say what they mean and mean what they say. Therefore, it's decided: No More Sex Before Marriage! Ever!

Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of my alarm clock brings me back to the present: "7:30 PM already? Sh*t, my blind date will be arriving shortly." I wonder why I said yes. Without the promise of sex I really don't see the point anymore. Unless... unless, I go back to being fully European!