Wow, I left this to the wire, didn't I? Well, in any case, I'm sure anyone who knows me and saw the topics probably saw this coming.

Throughout history, the ethics of sexuality have gone back and forth, from what amounts to polygamy being totally acceptable, to oh god, if you sleep with someone you're not married to...YOU WILL DIE. We're currently in a place where there's supposed sexual freedom (err, to a point) yet that doesn't seem to be the case. You sleep with too many people, and as a female you're branded a whore, a slut, dirty, what have you. As a male? It's almost accepted completely.

I'm nearly 20 years old, and I'm still a virgin. According to people I know, I'm a prude. I'm frigid. I'm chicken-shit.

The reason? Is none of the above. I haven't seriously dated anyone since ninth grade, and since I think thirteen is way too young an age to start getting it on, well that clearly wasn't happening.

Why haven't I dated since?

Easy. I have standards. People tell me they're too high, and I disagree. Why is it ridiculous to think I would want to date someone who I'm attracted to, both mentally and physically? I don't want to date someone who's drop dead sexy, but has a complete lack of brain activity. Nor do I want to date someone who I feel absolutely no physical attraction to, but who I could talk with for hours and never get bored. Just haven't found the right medium.

But I digress.

It's not that I'm afraid, or just a prude. I'm not waiting till marriage, or for that oh my god! special moment. If people can make their choices to be out there sexually, and do whatever they feel is right, why is it that people take such issue with what I choose to do?

Hell, I've had a friend tell me to just "get it over with" and while I've thought about it, I just can't. It's not how I am, and it never has been.

If you look at other cultures, they have set standards as to what is and isn't acceptable. The one I live in isn't so stringent. You're given the ability to make your own choices, the chance to do what you feel is right for you. I've chosen to make this one, and I'm not sure what's so wrong about that.

The ethics of sexuality are not clearly defined, and have never been more confusing.

I hate feeling as though I'm being judged for not doing something, especially something with reprecussions like sex can have.

That whole looking before you leap thing, it's how I am about everything. It's not going to change just because people think I'm weird for still being a virgin. No matter what they say.

There are no two words in the English language, or any other that I speak, in which I remotely enjoy the words "I'm sorry." Those words make me cringe, because how often are they really meant? How often is the feeling behind them actually apologetic or sincere? How often are they just the words people grasp for when they have nothing else to say?

I'd rather hear silence.

My hatred of these words began when I was twelve. The scariest day of my life when my family basically, completely and utterly fell apart. The day my life changed, and nothing will ever fix the crack that started that day. Nothing will ever make things better, nothing will ever be able to make my heart feel whole again.

When I was twelve, my grandmother died on our driveway. The panic, the tears, the being sent to a friends while my parents went to the hospital with her. It wasn't fair. I wanted to be there too, why should I have to sit and wait, find out after everyone else? But there was nothing to find out. My mom said she'd be fine, so she was going to be completely okay, nevermind the fact that it was Feburary, no one knew how long she'd been lying there after her heart attack and she wasn't breathing for god knows how long.

My mom lied.

Three hours later when my mom finally came to get me, as soon as I saw her face, I knew. I knew she was gone. The woman who had been more of my mother than my real mother, taken away in the blink of an eye for absolutely no reason.

So when my mom tried to hug me, and the words I'm sorry came out of her mouth, I ran. Shoved my feet into my boots and bolted home, only to slam into my father who instantly grabbed me, wrapping his arms around me and muttering the words "I'm sorry" over and over.

I'm sorry? What did that even mean? There was nothing to be sorry FOR. It's not like he'd done anything wrong, and it certainly wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that it was going to be okay. I wanted to know that it was okay, just some terribly cruel joke my parents thought it would be funny.

It wasn't.

Going back to school two days later, because I couldn't stay home anymore, having already missed about three weeks thanks to a teachers strike that was going on, people who heard what happened kept coming up and saying they were sorry. People who never even met her. There was a part of me that just wanted to shake them and ask WHY they were sorry, they hadn't done anything. I would have rather someone a "Shit, that sucks" or a "Man, that's terrible, anything I can do?" To this day, I'd rather have an honest response like that, than an "I'm sorry." Even a bad joke. Like when my cat died, and my mom kept stroking my hair. The best comment anyone made that day? The only thing to make me laugh? "Maybe she's doing it because she doesn't have a cat to pet anymore." Granted, I acted angry, because it seemed like the appropriate response, and I regret it. Because I did laugh.

I'm so sick of "appropriate responses."

To this day, the only people I want to hear the words "I'm sorry" from are my parents. Because that day? That day they began to fail as parents and as a couple. She was the glue that held them together, and without her they refused to even try to pretend. They are the only people I want an "I'm sorry" from, for making me scared of ever being in a relationship, for having a disfunctional teenage-hood, and for never being able to get along, yet refusing to be apart.

But only if it's not empty words.

The words I'm sorry just make me shake my head and wonder why, when people haven't even done anything to be sorry for.

I hate that the words have become and empty gesture, and that I'm just as guilty of saying it because it's become the expected answer when someone goes through tragedy, or has a problem.

And it shouldn't be.

Okay, since I apparently need a reason to make myself post, I'm participating in therealljidol this round.

I've been reading LJ, but apart from the occasional comment (and wank), I haven't really been saying a whole lot, sorry guys! I am reading your entries!

Life's just been...well, life. Crazy. And now, especially now that Gill and I are talking again, everything feels sort of zen. Until, y'know, I look at my pile of homework. Then everything goes to hell again.

Stupid college.

But anyway, back to the point, right. Yeah, LJ Idol.

My LJ's mostly F/O, clearly, but these entries will be public, at least for now, possibly F/Oing them after, just to keep things neat and clean.

So.

GOOD MORNING CLASS.

I'm Saskia, I live in Ontario, Canada where I'm in my third year of college. Yay for jumping around between programs. I was born in Germany almost 20 years ago, in Baden-Baden (points to anyone who can figure out what that means XD), and moved on Quebec when I was 2 and a half. Six months after my eighth birthday my family moved out to Alberta, and another six years later moved to Ontario. Ottawa, le capital to be specific.

No RL stalking, or I'll have to sic rabid zombies on you, and I don't think anyone would appreciate that one.

This is my first year participating in LJ Idol, sheerly for the fact that life blows, and I've always been too busy to do it before.

Y'all might not like me and might think I'm a massive bitch, but you know what? That's okay. Because honestly? I am. It's a fact that I've come to accept about myself (and as I've grown older realized really just how alike my mother and I are, oh god), and well, if you don't like it, I can't do anything about that, but I'm not one to censor myself often.

So, uh, guess that's all the important jazz.

Ta!