On Being a Frigid Prude

I think there's something wrong with the fact that I am a happy loner. With all the rush events going on, I still have not attended a single one. So far, I've spent my evenings enjoying private time to write and occasionally chat with my roommates who have lately been disinclined to party (yes, even Marlowe who has changed drastically since her father passed away during the holidays).

Admittedly, my solitude isn't entirely by choice. I have always had trouble adjusting to social situations; I have many friends but no good friends whom I socialize with on a daily basis -- other than my roommates. I am disinclined to party, which is rare to see at Duke where parties are everywhere. (Though I have the sneaking suspicion that it's because I'll only party with close friends. I can easily picture myself going out on weekends with my high school friends, because I trust they won't let me do anything stupid and I can be my nutty self around them.) I am rather indifferent to drinking, and I am very resistant about subjecting myself to hook-up culture. I will admit that I met some friends at a club during orientation that I still talk to today -- so I will say it's a good way to socialize.

Ah, okay now I'm writing about four hours later. So the night wasn't totally bust -- hung out with my not-Marlowe roommate and some other kids in my dorm. And I was planning to write a long-ass post analyzing my repulsion towards going out, but I'm too sleepy. To tell you the truth, I don't think I don't go out because I think it's not fun or morally wrong or whatnot. I'm just afraid of... I don't know, doing something I'd regret, and thus I continue comfortably with being a prude.

My not-Marlowe roommate talks about meeting her future husband at Duke and getting married at the Chapel, whereas I can't even imagine myself in a relationship at all. I don't know -- I suppose it's one of those things: since it's never happened, you can't really imagine it. You know those "firsts" people always talk about? I don't have any first anything. Which is probably why I don't go out and subject myself to the hook-up culture -- because I, the traditionalist frigid prude, sure as hell does not want a first kiss or first dance or first whatever with an inebriated stranger whose face I can barely see in the darkness.

I think another contributing factor to this whole deal is the fact that I have been weaned off of fairy tales and teen romance stories and Asian dramas with impossibly gorgeous actors. I don't even need Twilight to serve me a picturesque Byronic hero a la Edward Cullen on a platter -- my ideals are already miles up into the clouds and reluctant to consort with mere mortals.

But anyways. I have remained untethered and unattached all my life, and like the lactose intolerant people who never know the taste of chocolate, I don't have the slightest clue of what I'm missing out on. Perhaps pathetically, I live through reading and writing in my own way.

So... I found this piece from deviantart on this blog that I found while browsing through Lookbook. I liked her fashion style and ended up reading a bunch of her blog posts. I'm reposting the deviantart piece here.

Good Thing We're Fools by Corina90

“I think I might love you.”

“I think that’s a stupid thing to say, why would you say something like that?”
“Because when you look at me my toes curl and my stomach flutters.”
“Is that a quote from a book?”
“No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. It all gets a little mixed up sometimes.”
“So you love me like they love in books.”
“Question or statement?”
“Your choice.”
“Question, then. And, yes. I love you like Scarlett loves Rhett, like Elizabeth loves Mr. Darcy, like-”
“Stop, just stop. Don’t love me like that. What happens after the last page?”
“We continue on loving like happily-ever-forever.”
“No, we’d drop off, we'd end. Love isn’t static, it doesn’t continue in a flat line. Who can carry the same tune for years? We rise, we fall, we bump arms and step on each other’s toes. I’ll annoy you because I can’t stand going to Christmas parties and you’ll piss me off because you take an hour to get ready to go grocery shopping. We aren’t a book.”
“So how would you like me to love you then?”
“I don’t. Didn’t I just say I’ll annoy you? You shouldn’t love me, it’s a poor life choice.”
“What if I said it was too late?
“I’d say that’s a shame. But I’d also say that if you have to love me, love me like the moon. Love me when I’m cursing at the GPS because it took me to the-middle-of-nowhere when I clearly said to take me to California. Love me when I’m sitting in wrinkled jeans and a stained shirt that I Febreezed and called clean. Love me when I forgot what you said, forgot your birthday and remembered the stats of the last game. Love me when I wax, love me when I wane. Love me then.”
“Alright. And what about me? How will you love me?”
“I’ll love you like the tides. I’ll love you when you’re sitting in the middle of a million shoes complaining that none will work. I’ll love you when you forget to check the oil, forgot to fill the gas tank, forgot to roll up the windows when you parked. I’ll love you when you burn dinner, when you won’t get off the phone, when you cry at a movie you’ve seen twenty times before. I’ll love you during the low tides, during the high. I’ll love you then.”
“And during which will you remember that love is a fool’s choice?”
“Oh, I’ll always remember. But I’m a fool. Remember?