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Not Quite Ready to Swear Off Promiscuity But …

It’s likely not often you’ll find favorable links to articles here on But here’s the exception, I suppose.

Below: one of the most heartbreaking, encouraging, but also strangely pathetic things I’ve read in quite a while. A thumbs up to traditional sexual morality? Well, kind of; but not really — still, it’s a mildly grudging shuffle in that direction, at least.

Note: the author can’t emphasize enough that she’s still, essentially, a libidinous libertine. But she also concedes the “hooking-up” lifestyle has left her emotionally and psychologically wanting; that she’s open to a modified approach to physical relationships. And good for her for that.

For those of us who cling to the quaint notion that sex is a gift from God designed for the propagation of the species and the mutual pleasure of husband and wife (by that, for the record, I mean man and woman), this is a welcome development. We need to continue to pray and persuade to goose it along.

Read more …

There’s little that could shock me on a first date (or “date,” heavy on the air quotes). Not dirty talk, not sex — not even non-verbal attempts at anal. One gent announced within a couple hours of meeting me that he really wanted to stick a candle in my butt.

But being given flowers? Whoa.

When my recent date showed up at my door, minimalist bouquet in hand, I imagine I looked like I’d seen a ghost — of courtship past. He took me out to a restaurant with actual reservations, not to a taqueria or dive bar. He planned it nearly a week, not minutes, in advance. He picked me up in a cab rather than having me meet him there and, on his way over, he called instead of texting to give me a heads up.

Sure, we could be found post-midnight pressed up against a storefront on a street populated by intoxicated 20-somethings, the minty taste of Fernet fresh on our lips — but we didn’t have sex that night. We got back to my house and managed to unintentionally push all the decorative pillows off my living room couch, wedge my shoe under a cushion and knock over the fresh vase of flowers, before he announced, “As hard as this is going to be, I think the perfect end to this date would be for me to call a cab.”

What a revelation.

Read more at: Who Needs Casual Sex!

Image: courtesy of Jiri Hodan; public domain

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