Sincerely, this time.

An empty promise a year ago said I would return. Well, that didn't happen.

It is only as of late that sex has once again been on my mind, and questions about morality and sex are stirring once again that I am returning to this blog.

I seem to have an expiration date for interest in a significant other that can't seem to surpass the one year mark. I lost interest in my first two boyfriends after 7-9 months, and I blamed it on youth and immaturity. Boyfriend three was more or less a fling, and boyfriend four (my last one) started with an explosion.

For the first time, I thought about long-term commitment, possibly even marriage. I connected with my innate girly side that I thought didn't exist, looking up wedding rings, gowns and even possible venues to hold the glorious ceremony and reception. Call me a late bloomer, considering this was the type of thing I saw female friends do since middle school.

This illusion lasted for a year, and for the first time, I was absolutely positive I was using the word "love" because I was in love, not because it felt obligatory to say because I was dating a person for so long that it would be deemed strange if I didn't say it.

Or perhaps, on a subconscious level, I wanted it to work out because I lost my virginity to him. As per a previous post, I mentioned it happened in a less than ideal way. We were only dating for two weeks and not officially boyfriend/girlfriend status when heavy petting lead to the unrolling of one thing into another. And so to summarize without retyping my entire previous post, I faced months of insecurity over whether or not he loved me, or just loved having sex with me.

Fortunately enough for me, by sheer dumb luck, he was a man of integrity and responsibility, and wanted to pursue a long-term, serious relationship because he was falling in love with me. Our first time was unprotected, and the next morning, we had a hypothetical talk over what would happen if I was pregnant. He was anti-abortion, and said if anything happened, he would take the responsibility to make sure I was well taken care of and believed no child should grow up without a father. At the time I was a little taken aback by the entire talk. I was shocked that someone who I had dated for so short was already deliberating long term plans for the unlikely chance that I was pregnant (he pulled out). And I was absolutely certain that under the unlikely circumstance that I was pregnant, I would get an abortion without question. Why would I ruin my life and future because of one night? So I found it odd and noble that he was willing to deal with the situation head on, where I would've just--for the lack of a better word--aborted it.

After a few months, my insecurities were settled and I knew he loved me beyond the sex (as was proven by the lack of it by the end of the relationship). I know an abundance of male friends who've been in similar situations and walked away without a second look, adding another count to the number of girls they've bedded and ignoring the girl's feelings and misfortune. But remarkably, I met a rare diamond in the rough; someone who didn't see sex like a game and ultimately fell in love with me and I fell right back.

But in retrospect, and about a year and half after my monumental virginity loss, I do question if the relationship would've lasted half as long if sex didn't play a factor in the beginning. Maybe I just felt a need to make sure it did work out so that I could hold onto a thread of my former beliefs that sex should be saved till marriage. That way, if we did get married, all the prior sex was just a deposit that was going to be paid in full anyways.

Fast forward to today, I am now newly single. Single, but not exactly available, which I'll get to later since this odd new status is what inspired me to reboot this blog (finally, I have stories and rants to type up!)

But back to the original topic of losing interest -- I am deathly afraid of my own symptoms and patterns. No matter how "in love" I consider myself, ultimately at some point or another, I get defeated by becoming distracted. Perhaps the argument is that I was never truly in love if I fall away from it so easily. I find that we change and grow our definition of love from each relationship we get into. What I thought was love from boyfriend one till four has increased exponentially. So how can we discover the upper limits of what unconditional love truly is and truly can become if we don't keep moving on to find that something better?

This belief has been ingrained in my mind in more categories than one, not just regarding relationships but also sex in general, career moves, and almost everything else; the hunt and hunger for "better."

It always perplexes me to meet people (the majority of people I date, actually) who are just happy with what they have and simply don't care about what else is out there. They're happy, that's all that matters, who cares if there's better? I have an extremely hard time grasping this concept. If there is even just the slightest chance that something better exists out there, I don't like to know that I've forgone the opportunity. Which makes me extremely weak in situations that test my loyalty.

True, during the honeymoon phase of a relationship where I am inseparable from my boyfriend, I wouldn't dare dream of looking at anyone else. I am happy, content, pleased - why would I even care for anything else? There's nothing better! But these moments of content are temporary, and I find myself relapsing into becoming the curious kitten I'd always been.

And so I'm scared to enter into another relationship where ultimately, I might just hurt someone who doesn't need the pain -- again.

To be continued...