I've finally gotten to the point in my life where it's okay for me to be sexual. My roommate doesn't mind if I have random dudes over; hell, we've gone shopping for porn and sex toys together. My parents have no way of knowing, don't try to find out, and don't really care in any case. And no one else even potentially cares.
Frustrating, isn't it? I'm coming out of a teenagerhood where sex had to be furtively sneaked around like nuclear secrets, into an adulthood where I could be doing donkeys in here and all anyone would say is "hey, make sure his hooves don't wreck the carpet."
I kinda miss sex being wrong. I've tried so hard to at least have wrong kinds of sex, but nobody seems interested in persecuting me for it. Sometimes I seek out people in the media or blogosphere who are against sex just so I can be reassured that someone disapproves of me.
Of course this is all playacting, because I don't want my sex to be so wrong that there'd actually be consequences for it. And it's egotistical as well; imagining oneself as a member of La Résistance always is. As if I were the only person on Earth who realized that orgasms feel kinda nice and I was standing against an army of prudish Miss Wormwoods by valiantly fucking random dudes.
The sad truth is, I'm within one standard deviation of totally ordinary. That's okay though. Forbidden fruit is overrated. The mindful, loving cultivation of perfectly ordinary fruit is vastly underrated.