When I run into people these days, I sometimes get asked, “Are you still writing your column?” If you’ve been following, my articles, this term, have been much more sporadic, and it’s not because I’m running low on material. If anything, I’ve been having more sex rather than less.
At the start of this term, I embraced monogamy. It wasn’t as easy for me as it sounds, and I shouldn’t summarize it so lightly. Even so, I don’t want to gush, either. We’re not “young and in love,” and I wouldn’t even label us as a “couple.” Honestly, I’ve just been having sex with one guy this whole semester: one guy I care about, about whom I care too much to write every sordid detail of our intimate life. When I started this column, I only knew about healthy relationships from reading about them. While I wouldn’t always refer to this affair as mature, it’s stable and supportive.
When we first started hanging out, I wanted to chronicle “us,” by often blogging too much. After a few emotional outbursts online, which ended up distributed through his fraternity’s e-mail server, I learned my lesson. I even feel slightly guilty writing this now (as it might end up on said server). What’s important, however, is that he’s made me into a better person.
Looking back on my old articles, I still laugh at some of my encounters, but I no longer get the same thrill from that lifestyle. I never imagined I would one day find a guy who actually cared about me, who would see everything I wrote — everything I used to be. When I started writing, I was bitter and confused. I had sexual encounters in high school, but they were nowhere near as awkward and complicated as my experiences at MIT. I wanted to get all of these stories out of my system, and I might’ve hurt some guys in the process. I see my flaws and mistakes now. I don’t regret my decision to start this column — it at least got the campus talking about sex from time to time. However, if I hurt any feelings in the process, I never intended it.
And it’s not like I’m expecting a “happily ever after” from my current relationship. At this point, I might not even deserve one. If we break up (and come on, summer is around the corner), I don’t want to go back to whom I used to be. He’s showed me what it’s like to care and to be cared about, and for that he will always be special. Our sex life will, to a certain degree, always be off-limits in my writing.
It’s easy for me to say, “Time heals all wounds,” or “There’s someone for everyone,” when I’m happy. And, it’s not like I’ve been in a state of euphoria for this whole term, but for the most part, I am happier. Maybe I won’t get a “happy ending,” but even if I don’t, I’ll at least know of a time when I came close to one.