Of course, this weighs on a girl.
By Virginia Plain for HowAboutWe
Editor's note: Virginia Plain is the pseudonym of a twenty-something woman living in New York grappling with a less than ideal sex life. Check out her first post here, and check back next week for more.
Recently, I had the enormous pleasure of attending a concert for a band I thought I would never see live. I've loved this band since high school and they had broken up a few years ago, so the fact that they were coming to NYC was beyond thrilling. I invited my two best girlfriends. And not my boyfriend. Now, reading over the comments from last week, I feel it might be important to clarify something off the bat: I'm not a big talker. Neither is my boyfriend. I was that kid that when her parents asked how her day at school was almost always responded with "fine" unless something truly monumental had happened. While this is fine when things are good, it is, obviously, extremely problematic when there's an issue needs addressing. Trying to muster the courage to actually bring sex up with my boyfriend took weeks. I'd be lying if I said his sort of terse response surprised me. We really don't talk about anything except maybe work and friends. But not the relationship. The thing is, even if I don't want to hash out all of my feelings at length, I would, at the very least, like to be able to talk about them sometimes. And I hope he feels the same way. It's hard to tell though.
Related: 6 Tips For An Awesome QuickieAs my roommate and I made our way back to the apartment, I was confident in the fact that I'd never hear from him. We feasted on drunken midnight snacks, and I basked in the glory that a very handsome and very tall rock god thought I was pretty enough to ask for my number. An hour later, he texted me. I was shocked. Elated. Confused. We texted back and forth, it was all very tame and sweet and filled with emoticons (hello, he's only 21) until four in the morning. Finally I told him I had to go to bed and passed out. But not before dancing around my room and waking my roommate up to tell her what had happened. I know this is probably a bad idea. I get that. But I sort of don't feel terrible at all. To be honest -- and I realize this is extremely not P.C. to say -- I don't think there's a girl alive who doesn't feel some validation when a man tells her she's attractive. I know you're supposed to love yourself for who you are and embrace your body as it is and all that, but I'm calling bullshit. No girl punishes herself at the gym and spends scads of money on waxing just to feel one with herself. She's hoping a guy feels one with that beautifully manicured, toned vagina too. Otherwise, what's the point?