by text message. We discussed etymology, traded literary recommendations, compared

by text message. We discussed etymology, traded literary recommendations, compared religion -- I'm Unitarian, he’s a Baha'i convert. He lived one summer in Chicago, and we discovered that we'd shopped at the same bookstores. One night, we found ourselves in the same nightclub. Using a cigarette as an excuse to go outside, we abandoned the music and talked for hours. Our friends came to check on us multiple times, with varying degrees of smirking insinuation; we kept promising to go back in after one cigarette, then neglecting to actually smoke it. The conversation went through homesickness, ethics, roleplaying games, more literature. I lent him a book. He promised to visit me. His next text message, a few days later, was plainly nervous. Can you imagine someone blurting a text message? That's what he did when he told me that he takes the "no sex before marriage” part of his Baha'i faith seriously. I was stunned -- but I had to laugh, too. Of course Miss Clarisse Thorn, pro-sex advocate, just had to fixate on a man who wouldn't sleep with her! KK ok I did not undergo abstinence-only sex education. My middle school's health teachers were admirably forthright and even hosted condom demonstrations in the auditorium, more power to 'em. I also had the good fortune to be raised Unitarian -- so I received incredibly compassionate, complete sex education in Sunday School. Still, for a long time I was strongly attracted to chastity. In my teens, I decided that I wouldn't lose my virginity until I was much older -- I think I picked age 25 -- because I wanted to be sure I'd be mature enough to handle it. This resolution didn't last, but after I became sexually active, I occasionally came back to the idea. A few female friends took "time off" -- in some cases, full years of abstinence. I considered doing so myself, strongly and for a long time. Back then, I was terrible at communicating about sex. Reading explicit sex scenes made me feel anxious, perhaps because I felt they set standards I couldn't "perform." Talking explicitly to my partners felt impossible, not least because I had practically no idea what I wanted. Worst of all, I could feel the societal boxes around my sexuality, but I couldn't articulate them. Plus, there were dark undercurrents to my sexuality that simply scared me. Abstinence was the only obvious way around my sex-negative cultural baggage! Once I adjusted into my BDSM orientation, once I got a grip on how to circumvent some problems with how Americans tend to think about sex, once I experienced mutual sexual communication that was totally trusting and adventurous... my attraction to chastity was greatly reduced. These days, the idea only seems awesome when (a) I've just been romantically burned, or (b) I want more time to myself. It's tempting to think that Mr. Chastity might be the same way: that he's uncomfortable for similar reasons; that he'll "get over it." Tempting -- and offensively presumptuous. Maybe he'll re-examine his motives someday, and maybe he won't. The important thing is to respect his feelings. So when he sent me that text, I did what any responsible sex- positive girl ought to do: I honored his boundaries and thought seriously about whether I could work within them. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018582