Growing up attending the smallest public school in Connecticut, I was unaware of the things I would be exposed to in the future. I graduated with a class of 63, dated the same boy for two years and never drank or used drugs. Most of the people I knew in high school lived clean lives. My sheltered perspective on people and what they worshiped was due to the small window into the world that my town provided.
Keene presented a new population to me; the disciples of nightlife, who long for the drama of risky behavior, experimenting with drugs and loose sex.
The stimulation that seems to carry some people through the weekdays, is the anticipation of performing this ritual on the weekend. This anticipation is similar to a believer’s craving to read the word or pray to God — these people long for their weekend pattern.
The days of drinking, drugs and sex become some people’s master. When they finish their last class on Thursday, they scream out thanks for the weekend. Continuously following the same rituals; dress up, pregame, find a party and look for an easy hook-up.
This pattern of going out, getting high and hooking up, is akin to some people’s urge to pray to God, thanking him for their life.
Photo Illustration By: Brittany Murphy / Opinions Editor
I did not learn the devotions of the modern-day-lover quickly, I trusted, looking for the innate good in people. Finally, I started to realize some people I met in the party scene were following a different Lord.
Their Lord seemed to lead these college students to form backwards relationships, developing physical intimacy before a mental connection. I never thought making love, which I believe God intended to be a gift between a husband and wife, would become the first form of introduction.
The new rituals followed by some college students in the party scene make relationships difficult for the people who follow the traditional path. “Party-scene worshipers” expect more than they deserve on a first encounter. Their high expectations cause them to overlook people who live a more conservative lifestyle.
My initial perspective lead me to misjudge some guys’ motivations towards girls. In my high school if a guy had a crush on a girl his goal would be to ask her on a date, perhaps being lucky enough to snag a kiss at the end.
I stepped on campus unaware of the intentions behind the eyes of people who were checking me out. I would catch someone’s gaze and believe he was interested in getting to know me, instead he was following a different motivation.
One boy asked me to lunch. After a long conversation he looked at me quizzically preparing to say something momentous. Apologizing, he informed me that he had not expected me to be smart. “I thought you were like every other Keene State College girl, hot, dumb and slutty,” he said.
Now, this is not to say that is an accurate description of girls at KSC, for it is far from the truth. I live with, have met and play softball with wonderful girls who carry themselves with class. However, there is a stigma around college girls that describes them as easy.
One person I talked to attempted to develop a premature physical relationship with me. We had been talking for a few weeks, hung out a couple of times; I enjoyed spending time with him.
However, one night, when we were together, he attempted to have sex with me. I stopped him with mirth jumping inside of me, as I realized I was a part of the backwards ritual of the modern-day-lover.
He asked me why I refused to enter into what I saw as the college ritual, I simply told him he did not deserve it.
My response may have been blunt, but it was truthful. People who are not infatuated by your inner beauty do not deserve the benefits of your physical beauty.
I believe something so intimate, as making love, is truly a gift that God gave us to share with a person who deserves the experience.
My hope is that people learn to restrain their initial desires and realize that loving their inner person is meant to be the key to unlocking physical love.
Anna Glassman can be contacted at aglassman@keene-equinox.com