The Value of Sex Please?

***

Well, it’s the time of the year again. (Can you believe it’s August already? I always can’t help but get this sense that I’m usually more aware of the later months in the year then the ones before July) I made a trip to the Poly-clinic to get a subsidy on my health-check. I didn’t do so for the past few trips to the gynecologist, and have only just realized what a huge difference it is when you get a referral and when you don’t.

Horribly long wait, must have taken at least 2 hours, and what nasty treatment from the doctor too. She asked me why I wanted to go for a test, and such a through one too (pap-smear, blood-test, all other relevant) and I told her it was simply because one can never be too sure (and secretly to myself, because Mr. B insists). I don’t know what could have possibly gotten into her, but she told me off by saying that if I was worried and needed to get a check, there was something clearly wrong with my lifestyle.

Shrug. I know there’s something wrong with my lifestyle, you don’t have to tell me that. I don’t like myself for it, really. But how do you explain to someone that you’ve never understood the sanctity of sex you whole life. Then again, there are some things you miss out on, and some things you gain. My life is not any worse then someone who lives by absolute morality, is it?

She wasn’t talking to me very nicely either, so I told her I wasn’t there to have my morals questioned. Then I asked her about the other thing I wanted, which was some form of birth-control. And she said that those were for young married mothers (which I can understand perfectly) and not for people like Me. Of course she suggested the pill after that, and if you read it on screen, it sounds like she was just doing her job. But I really didn’t like the way she said the last bit. Perhaps I’m just paranoid.

Then, a few days ago, there was a discussion over Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, and there was this point in the play where the main character, of similar moniker, was given the choice of relinquishing her virginity for her brother’s freedom, or staying chaste and well, leaving her brother in his shit (I clearly didn’t participate much in the discussion). And someone just tossed out the question, “Well, so how much does she value her virginity?” And some idiot started laughing, and then the whole lot of them followed. I supposed it would have been quite different if she were given a much less fancy name I suppose.

But I seriously don’t know if this is one of those quixotic moments in my life, or a little bend in the road where I start learning the value of sex; whatever it is, I’ve decided to do just that. I suppose the most subtle decisions are the most effective. Making an attempt at being chaste is just like going on a diet, you just have to get down to it.

Yes, I’m in a particularly romantic-ly, silly sort of mood today. The Boy just sent me one of his most lyrical letters ever, and I have visions the sort that are too unblemished, golden-yellow daisy-white for me to dare type down for fear that I make myself cringe. Having images in my mind is one thing, seeing them down on black and white…? Naah.

xoxox