Sexuality for Real People:
An Open Door (Compartments)

Masturbation is another odd topic, but far be it from me to inhibit my theorizing. For instance, in Joan of Arc's time, virgin = power. Did that virginity equal potential, with that being the source of the power? Or was there a subtle difference in definition, virginity as leashed power. Or different perspective- perhaps UNleashed, rather unfocused, not given away yet. I wonder how masturbation fits into this scenerio, in the grand scheme of keeping one's virginity. There are some stories, elsewhere, where magic requires virginity- I'm fuzzy on whether that being "touch of a man" or sexual meaning only- myths, magic, psychic. There was actually a James Bond movie, one of the old ones, where the young psychic had to remain a virgin to use her "gift". Kind of an odd source, but yet again, I'm thinking outloud. I'm wondering if masturbation can be seen as another tool, used to keep the machine that is the body running regularly. Or if it's actually a way of distilling power -releasing it, some form of it, into thin air, throwing it away on nothing and in the meantime awakening useless needs. I'm wondering how it *should* be seen. Honestly? I have no idea. Just talking. But it ties in with compartmentalizing, because I do see sexual awareness as a "level", a facet, I can't find the perfect word to use (again, too many meanings and too hard to define specifically). Think of your sexuality as a door that once opened might encompass the rest, but also as a door that can remain closed without denying you. Think of the very existence of said metaphorical door as potential in waiting.

Compartments. In a way they exist, for example: I believe in a person being known in a different way by different people. My aunt can see me as a girly-girl, my grandmother can see me as domestic, my niece can see me as aloof, my sister can see me as naive, my mother can see me as perceptive, my stepfather can see me as indifferent, my friend can see me as arrogant, my dad can see me as rebellious. Part of this is context and POR (point of reference, not everyone has the same perspective on you; it depends on "where they came in" and that takes us back to my previous thoughts on chemistry) on the part of the outside individuals. A lot of it is limited contact -interaction in only one way, one area. But part of it can all be me. I can be all these things; as Whitman says, I am contradicting, "I am vast". But, in another way, these aren't compartments. They are all one, and that one is me.

"One." That just triggered a thought about relations with other people, in particular the old "two shall become one" schtick of Christian marriage. My thought is that marrying is like opening a door, a door that has been there all along, a door that will affect every part of your life from then on (once opened). At the same time, the other person is opening *his/her* door, and some could think of it as somehow being the same door but I prefer to consider it individually, like the connecting door between 2 hotel rooms. (Bear with my analogy!) The two are merged: I open my door to you and you are welcome, a part of my room whether you open yours or not. But with marriage, both doors are open and we are both part of each others' rooms. Not only can the doors never be closed the same way again but in fact the doors are *gone*, so we might block the doorway with a dresser but there's always going to be an opening between these 2 bonded people.

By this theory, not only is the "horse has left the barn" phrase accurate, but also the "if you've truly loved once you're more likely to love again". I crack myself up, but it's fun and I can take this futher. Sex is a 2-person doorway. Until that level is opened for use, the sexual one for instance, it's not an issue. Once it is, the people around us are forced to choose how much of us they *want* to know. Whereas previously time and context and circumstance decided how many compartments of a person any random friend might come to understand (and by that I am going by the "it's the knowing how to put those compartments together that means you know a person really well" explaination), now there is at least one part which is very definitely a corded-off territory. In truly intimate relationships (note: for all their intimacy, yet not sexual ones -by gender or relation or choice) this is a hard part of life. As an example, you can take a parallel to someone who has secrets and a friend who is desperate to learn them. In most relationships, casual ones as a great deal are, not knowing everything about that other person would be no big deal. In truly connected relationships, this is what triggers the fear of missing out, in a My Best Friend's Wedding sort of way. The fear can be triggered between same-gender friends, without being a signal of homosexuality. Which is another trait I find interesting to explore. It can also come into play between members of the same family. Sex is the physical expression of intimacy, and it tends to trump all other forms of it. If I am insanely jealous of my brother's wife-to-be, it's because I feel her claim on him will threaten mine: seeing how much more eloquently she can express it, physically. It sounds kinky, but it's basic humanity.

I'm talking about physical expression as a manifestation of love. The climax and release sequence in the storyline of many a romantic comedy genre movie is the kiss. There's build-up and sexual tension, possibly sexual interaction, etc, depending on the movie, but when the problems are all sorted out and the couple has decided to be "in love", it's the kiss that tells us they are now officially "together". All's well with the world, or whatever. Think of any romantic comedy at all, take for example Two Weeks Notice. Here our couple in question does not kiss *at all* until the end, the conclusion. Until that moment it could have gone either way, their attraction and/or potential relationship hinted at only with meaningful ("...or are they?") glances, the ability to get along and communicate with each other, and that most elusive element, 'chemistry'. It's the kiss that cements where they are going from here, and though this particular movie ends without a wedding, it doesn't matter because the viewer feels reasonably able to guess where they go from here.

So kissing is no more about pure "experience" than sex is. Both are making a statement, words without talking but *emphatic* words, a declaration, a statement, a contract almost --if not with the person you are, i.e., kissing than with the world. You are giving something to this person, this person is receiving something from you. And vice versa. Kissing has become so common place nowadays that sex is used almost as it's replacement in an attempt to *mean*, to declare something (though what it is now is not particularly clear it still carries with it a lasting impression, stigmata even if you prefer).

I'm a writer, so I think of this sort of more linear than others might. From my perspective, actions are just expressed words. As a writer, I also understand why God is very firm about being *cautious* with words. Words are beautiful, and words are powerful. Words change things. (If you don't believe that, consider what a difference it makes to a dating relationship when you start naming yourself: "he's my boyfriend/she's my girlfriend", "it's *serious*", "this is a *date*" etc.)

Celibacy keeps us available to everybody. If I am a virgin, there is no one who has known that part of me, it is an ungiven gift. And so from this we can finally understand that sex *is* a powerful force. And should be directed. It's not the casual physical experience it's made out to be so often (does anybody really *believe* that, really?). I can relate this in terms of my remaining at home, at the bosom of mother and family. If I had kids, I can imagine the inevitable abandonment of their "moving on" from me, from their home with their family. Since I personally have no designs on a family of my own I find the whole idea that much more frankly ludicrous and unnecessary. I can't help but view the idea of change from a mother's POV, and from there understand that I have the power to be that child who doesn't abandon his/her mother. Never will, no, but most importantly isn't in any hurry to do so physically. (And happy to be exhibitionist about it.) I'm here, I'm *available*. I attempt to be accessible.

And so at this point in my life, I can be well-known by anybody. I find the concept of being *best* known by one person, a man I don't know *now* at all... astonishing. But fascinating as well. I don't think it will ever happen for me, because I think it's very possible that to be "all things to everyone" (Paul said that) I can't be all things to just *one*. Again, that's personal: that's *my* calling. Relationship dynamics are endlessly complex and delicious and frustrating. And I can't tell another person what's in the plan for them. But you can see from this that it's a diverse landscape in it's own way.