Heart-Shaped Penance

By Cody Quinn

Co-Editor-in-Chief

Sex never felt so bad.

Three years, six months, and about four days; that is how long it has been since I’ve had sex.

This is difficult for me to write.  Not the fact that it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any.  After the first six months that particular ache begins to fade.  No, writing this is problematic for me because it forces me to face certain truths about myself that I don’t want to face.

When I tell people how long it’s been (not that I advertise, but conversation among the young rarely refrains from sex) I’m likely to hear a few responses.

“Is it against your religion?”

No, I’ve had sex before, and the day I become a Born Again Christian people will be summering in Hell.

“Is it because you can’t?”

No, I’ve said no to a few women during my streak.  I’m not saying women throw themselves at me, but I’ve turned down a few love interests, much to my second head’s chagrin.

“I got it!  You’ve had your heart broken and can’t get back on the saddle, right?”

That’s usually strike three (and I haven’t, by-the-by). 

The superficial truth is at one point in my life, about three years six months, and four days ago, I decided to limit my sexual activity.  Granted, if you told me it would have been such a long time between encounters, I would have seriously reconsidered that notion.

Before I go on, and while I clearly have your attention, let me set the record straight: I am not averse to having sex.  I have merely narrowed the parameters in which I will have it. 

There was a time when I was less discriminate, and that attitude had led me through a series of trysts in which I screwed around with a minor (she was 16 and I was 19, but still…), a married woman, two exchange students whom wanted the American experience, and one girl with self-esteem so low ants couldn’t limbo beneath it.  In the fogs of time I’m sure I’ve forgotten a girl or two, and that doesn’t speak very well of the person I was back then.

Elements of that truth are certain to resonate with a few of you.  Sex today is increasingly impersonal, and there is a pressure, especially among men, to have as long a string of conquests as possible.  Names and personalities are less important than the bodies they’re attached to, and for a man to even be searching for a supposed “soul mate” goes against many preconceived notions of what makes a modern man.

I made the decision to hold off on the sex until I found a partner I would not hate myself for sleeping with.

 Although, several factors have led up to my three plus years; some were my fault, others were not (damn lesbians).  I’ve taken up a few hobbies, and have found some great porn sites to ease the pain.  Pie baking also helps.

That being said, there is something in the middle of all these thoughts and societal tendencies that led me to my current state of celibacy: the deeper, harder truth.

I spent the majority of my young adult life in the orbit of one woman.  I was a shy, awkward kid, and she had the misfortunate of being nice to me at the worst possible moment.  I latched onto the idea that I might love her, honestly believed I did, and began to make myself into a man I thought she could love in return.

She was very literate, so I began to read more and, in fact, became a writer and a poet of sorts.  She was active in school organizations, and I became a political force to be reckoned with.  She was religious, and I, well, learned a lot more about religion.

It wasn’t meant to be.  On a rainy August night I told her I loved her and walked away.  Since then, I made myself into a man she would disdain.  I slept with women and made them cry.  I became caustic, an obnoxious presence, and in the process I’ve hurt few people, namely the women mentioned above.

As I grew older I realized the reprehensibility of my actions and made efforts to correct myself.  I swore off sex until I could find a relationship that I could give a fair shake to, until I could find someone to fill the gap in my soul I cut out because I was too young and naïve to know any better.

Now I carry my celibacy as a form of penance.  I don’t give it much thought because it feels deserved, equal payment for crimes committed.  If it is five, ten, twenty years before an honest relationship in which I can do the dirty develops, then so be it.  I will know my karmic debt has been squared.