A Conversation with a Man About my Sex Life:
An Insight into why I care what men think.
By Nia Mclean
Photo by Pexels
“A girl only has so much sugar,” said my uncle. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes.” We had this conversation last Christmas as well. He was talking about sex. “You can’t give your sugar to everyone.”
He nodded. “You can’t give up your sugar to everyone,” he confirmed, emphasizing the word you as if the rule didn’t apply to him. It didn’t. It doesn’t.
Then, he stood up, walked away, and returned with a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote my name: N-I-A. Under my name, he drew a circle sectioned into eight parts.
“Imagine a sugar cookie,” he started. “Why would I want a cookie that everyone else has already taken a bite of? Each time you give a guy some sugar, there’s less left for the next guy. So Nia, and I am saying this from a place of experience and love. Don’t give up too much sugar because if you give up too many of those pieces, no one’s gonna want you. No one wants a half-eaten cookie.”
“And how many slices are ‘too many’?” I joked.
“About three. No, four. I’ll be generous because I know how your generation is.”
I laughed at him, both, for giving me a specific number and insinuating that we were generations apart despite only a 10-year age difference.
He didn’t laugh.
Oh, he was serious.
My sex life had been reduced to a sugar cookie meant to satisfy a man’s cravings. And, I better have a piece of cookie left for when the right man comes along.
I know we’re supposed to reject the heteronormative and misogynistic notion that if a woman is too sexually active she becomes damaged goods, rendering herself unsuitable for marriage. However, doesn’t a high body count render a woman damaged? Before you attack me, hear me out. Yes, I think it’s okay for women to sleep with whomever they want, whenever they want. But, it doesn’t matter what I think or any other woman thinks. I am not trying to marry another straight woman. So, yes, I care what men think because I want to marry a man. I want a guy to view me as wife material, instead of some hookup.
I started to combat my uncle, but quickly stopped. There was no point in arguing, because he was the judge and the jury. The guy is the person with the engagement ring, not me. I could disagree with my uncle. Hell, I could even be correct, but he had the authority to be right or wrong.
“Stephen, can you give up too much sugar?” I questioned, gesturing towards him, and lengthening the word you.
He let out a belly laugh and got up to pour himself a drink.
I was being serious.