Updated: Aug 7, 2019
I see it time and time again. Even in this post-sexual-revolution era and when condoms are thrown from trucks at Pride Parades and taking the pill is not so hush hush anymore. I still have a teacher (a pretty progressive one, at that) telling us to stay away from short shorts because of self-respect. I still watch a movie where a woman who lets the moment carry her away to ride a man other than one she has started a flirtation with, gets completely shamed for it.
There is a concept of incompletion when a woman is promiscuous. Somehow, there must be a deafening void inside of her- one that must be filled by filling the void between her legs. That must be the only reason women fuck. Or cheat. Or have one night stands. Because, you know, self-respect.
Cut to the scene in the movie where she doesn't want to kiss the guy she's shared electric energy with. Because he is a disaster of a human and clearly isn't worth investing in, but here she is investing anyways. And here he is- convincing her. And we root for him. Please kiss him because you know you want to. Except she doesn't want to. That's why she's not kissing him. Then when his brilliant friend has a moment of sadness, and she shares in that, every cell in her body wants to connect and she does kiss him, and offers her body and loves every part of it. And we didn't root for them. When the disaster comes back, he is livid. What could you possibly want with him. I felt you want me. But life isn't like that. I don't love you less because I want to share my body- or because I don't need these spectators rooting for me to open my legs to the most convincing protagonist.
There is no void in me to fill by episodes of lovemaking or you-know-you-want-to's.
In fact, the most honest form of self-respect that I have is trusting my urges and my body and my soul. When I follow my lean into pressed lips- that's when I am living my truth. When I can't stop thinking about you but give you the space you requested, that's my most painful self-worth.
Instead, when a man falls in love with two women, we either call him pig or feel sorry for his dilemma. Did your stay-at-home wife bore you when she stopped wearing heels to vacuum the floor before she served you your dinner? So you fell in love with a business woman from the next office with waxed legs and red lips and now... what a tough decision. There is never a point that we think he has issues with his self-worth. Or a need for a wrap (instead of a void-since there isn't one between those particular legs). Almost naturally we assume that his original partner is where the problem lies.
The truth is, there is no problem. That compassion that we offer to men who love more than one should be offered to all humans- whether they love one, or none or many.
Nature tells us that our souls are polyamorous. We are "the social animal". Our need for connection goes so far that it can cure depression, addiction, obsessions. We crave love. But love comes in so many forms and the way we represent and embody love varies incredibly from interaction to interaction. What if I told you that the man never laid a finger on business woman. Oh but he did fall madly in love. Affairs of the heart or of the flesh, who really wants to draw a line. I am a different lover to each one that I have loved and the emotion they each have brought out in me is transformative and unique and incomparable. Names and numbers don't add up to every angle of me having been desired and appreciated.
I've heard it eloquently said that we, alone, are a complete sexual entity. We are completely capable of fulfilling our our sexual satisfaction, we don't need to keep trying to be matched up. Therefore, the concept of wandering through life searching for a soul mate, or many, is facetious. You are already complete. The ways you choose to share your body are powerful. Let's shut out the spectator rooting for the one who is trying the hardest, and give each other the kindness of supporting our fluid choices.
You and I, we were born whole- please don't try to fill the gaps where your heart could not sew you together. We are beauty in this swiss cheese state and you are not made of everything I am missing. You are complete and entitle and worthy in every sense of those words. And I, for one, am rooting for you to get what you want.