A Is For Abstinent

Photography by Natalia Oprzadek

I’m abstinent. A rare finding at Emerson College, an institution with a reputation for being so sexual, its motto is “Gay by May, or Transfer.” Of course, the motto mainly refers to the large queer population at Emerson, but it’s also rooted in the prevalent hookup culture. Many people practice abstinence for a multitude of reasons, mine being rooted in sexual trauma, trust issues, and continually questioning my orientation. 

Sex and I have a complicated past. It’s like when your friends beg you to go with them somewhere, telling you it’ll be a great time and you’ll realize how much fun it is once you’re there, and so you cave and go. Once you get there, you realize they lied; it’s not fun, but you think, ‘Maybe it’ll get better if I stay a bit longer,’ so you do, and find yourself thinking, ‘Damn, my mouth is dry, I wish I could just teleport myself out of this situation.’ Maybe the dry mouth part didn’t translate well for the simile, but you understand my meaning. Even during the times you excitedly initiate it, it still just isn’t right. Sex isn’t for everyone, and the pressure to conform to a society that puts so much emphasis on having all the sex all of the time can leave anyone, regardless of how active they are, confused if they’re doing what’s best for them. 

I’ve gone through just about every sort of dating, not dating, having sex, not having sex phase or combo one can. When I decided not to have sex again for the foreseeable future, I thought that meant dating as well. I couldn’t rationalize how someone would want to seriously date me with no possibility of sex because I was convinced no one wanted to date me at all. I spent a saddeningly long amount of time thinking this and avoiding the romantic connections I so desperately craved, depriving myself of possibilities. I decided when I came to Emerson, I’d put myself out there and go on dates. I figured the best way for me, someone incapable of real-life interactions, to get people to agree to go out with them would be Tinder and Hinge. 

My first dates consisted of walking around the Commons for three hours struggling to make conversation, or getting late-night sushi at Genki-Ya, awkwardly waiting to answer their questions as I chew as fast as I can. Eventually, I got into a situationship that lasted a few months, and things were looking good. I had set many boundaries concerning sex, mostly just consisting of steamy makeout sessions unless we were officially dating. But in an age of long-term, long-distance, low-commitment casual partners (Shoutout Barbie), he did not want a relationship. We ended our situationship, and the rest of the school year was spent casually dating. At the end of the spring semester, the “situationship man” asked me to go on a walk and talk in the Commons; this ended with him saying his biggest regret was not dating me and how he’s spent the remainder of the year wishing he had done everything differently. I felt so powerful after hearing that, but it was about to be summer, and I was starting a gap year, so nothing ensued. 

With the good comes the bad, and there have been some not-great dating experiences at Emerson as well. Cue the time I had a stalker who would wait for me outside my dorm at 1:00 a.m. or when, quite recently, I had a crush on someone in my class, and when we went on our first date I set boundaries regarding sex, but he didn’t care so we had sex anyways. Silly little me things! Although I use humor to cope, these are very serious situations that I am dealing with assiduously. I specifically set out not to make this about my assaults, but I would feel remiss not to mention it, as it does play a part in my dating experiences at Emerson. 

My dating life is shaving even though there’s no possibility of them even seeing my legs. My dating life is scrolling through dating apps looking for someone who seems like they wouldn’t be upset by not having sex on the first date. My dating life is always having an exit strategy for if they don’t take my setting of boundaries well. My dating life is solemnly watching all my friends flow in and out of relationships, romantically fulfilled, as I stand in the background of their memories, frozen in time because nothing and no one ever happens to me. 

Sometimes, I feel like a fraud, always giving out relationship advice to friends when I have no relationship to relate to. I tell myself it’s fine because it allows me to be more rational and objective, which can be very beneficial in highly emotive situations, but it’s a band-aid. I’ve started to notice more and more of these band-aids as I get older––things that I’ve written off to never have to come to terms with the real possibility of there being something seriously wrong with me. My abstinence from sex is a band-aid; it’s not something I necessarily plan on doing forever, but it gives me the time to heal and grow until I’m ready to make the decision to keep it or take it off. 

While my problems may be different than others, everyone has dating struggles, and that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date tonight, and I need to get ready.