I appreciate it when someone does all the heavy lifting for me, and shows that all my predictions are correct.
Last week I wrote about a woman trying to undue her promiscuous past (and failing). Without wasting my time reading the book by the woman who avoided penetration for a year (calling that chaste as I suspected was a complete abuse of that word) I made several assessments about her.
Susan Walsh has read the book and describes the woman and her poor thinking patterns in detail and confirms everything I wrote. Go and read what I wrote and then read Susan’s piece, because it is laughably predictable. If you want the crib notes, read on my gentle readers:
I predicted that the little tramp would be back doing what she does best, sleeping around after her year of nonpenetration when I wrote this:
If you go to the link, you will notice she’s blond now and more attractive than this picture. I guess when the year was up, it was time to ratchet it up, perhaps?
And this is confirmed by Susan:
In the Epilogue, she feels compelled to offer a sex scene, her first in more than a year. It’s with the asshole banker in the Hamptons, and she has sex because she is there as his guest for the weekend, and hadn’t told him about her year without sex. She decides that not having sex would be too awkward, which surely is the equivalent of going on a bender after being sober for a year.
You got to love that even after everything, the asshole gets to pop her faux virgin cherry.
Next prediction is that it was her dumped the last man that said he loved her and the reasons why:
She has her first love. Any bets on who was the dumper and who was the dumpee? The odds heavily favor her being the dumper and all my gentle readers can guess why . . . she needed time to explore, she needed time to ride the carousal.(and her numbers are greater than she wishes now).
Well, we have confirmation: She’s the dumper because she was having fun:
Suddenly she spied her college boyfriend with his arms around a petite blonde, laughing and ushering her into DeBeers, presumably to buy an engagement ring. For some reason, this was a wake-up call, though she couldn’t have been jealous – she had dumped the guy after waking up one day eight years earlier, after realizing she was no longer in love. She graduated and found a job in publishing.
“Those were fun, giddy times, and if ever anyone had taken me aside and questioned whether I wasn’t having too much fun, I would have smiled away their doubts.”
It is so predictable. So banal in its ordinariness. Do I hear cats calling her? I think I do
Next prediction: She’s had scads of partners
you don’t feel that way about sex unless you’ve had scads of partners.
And we have this:
Pinning down my own type is tricky—that’s his first characteristic. I seem to pick the ones who really do not want to be pinned. The fly-by-nights, the cads, the all-round rotters. They’ve come in a baffling array of shapes and sizes, though they’ve all been older than me—some older than others; others much, much older than some. But perhaps all this profiling is simply paving the way for someone to come along and astonish us. For someone who is so resolutely not our type that we’re defenseless against their charms.”
A baffling array of Cads, all around rotters and one night stands. When I said 12+ I woefully underestimated this chick. She might even be in competition with this one. (Hat tip: Devil’s Advocate)
And we have this:
Now at thirty, the wall upon her, cougarville a few short years away, she runs into the man she turned down because an exciting world awaited her, and now she sees him getting married and there’s no ring on her finger, and the emptiness of her womb calls to her and she realizes she’s made a mistake.
The solution?
To do the opposite of what she has been doing, or at least stop doing one thing, sex which she marks as penetration.
And the advice from Hooking up Smart:
“If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right.”
Did I think she was acting chaste, no I did not:
I am reminded though that chastity is not the same as merely not having sex, has more to do with being pure of spirit.
And Susan confirms that she was anything but chaste:
She['s] . . .refraining from sexual intercourse (other forms of hooking up are OK), but she continues to be involved with Jake, a rake with a girlfriend, . . . and seems content to fool around and spoon. There’s also a man she calls the Pasha . . . . There’s the Beau . . . who enjoys having multiple female friendships around the world.
. . .She spends time with N . . . She gets set up with The Boy Next Door, and enjoys his company thoroughly, but bemoans the lack of a “spark.” The Quiet Guy . . . . In NYC she meets . . . an investment banker
Seven different men that’s she’s engaging in everything except penetration. Chaste this woman is not. She is the slut equivalent of a dry drunk. From this you can extrapolate the number of different men she has probably gotten involved with from 18 to 30, assuming this year is typical, at seven, and these she would have slept with in other circumstances, I would guess her notches are somewhere around 80+.
And finally, what was really driving her behavior:
In the end it is the same old pattern, the alphas got her prime years and then beta boys that she’s turning to now have to wait while romancing her (translation: spending time and money to get access).
The asshole investment banker gets her and she feels no spark for the quiet guy next door. She is indeed trying to fix her mistakes, without realizing what drives her.
And since my assessment is correct, it may be “predictable” as Susan Walsh proclaims when I say: “Ha! Too late. You already rode the cock carousel, and now you’ll have to settle for cats.”
But the mistake Susan makes is that it isn’t the statement that is predictable, it is the behavior of the woman involved and my noting it isn’t due to a lack of imagination on my part, but on the lack of anything unique or unexpected about this woman.
The entire arch of her life is predictable and sadly common.
