A date

As is traditional, I went to the movies last night. As is not so traditional for me, I was on a date. As is even less traditional, the gentleman with whom I went on the date put his arm upon the back of my seat, though not actually around me. I felt then, a mixture of want and hope that I hadn't felt in ages, the kind that makes my skin tingle with a pleasant thrill of anticipation and nervousness. I knew that he wouldn't go further, and I was confronted by a sense of relief and sorrow. Though the conversation was very nice, I would hardly have minded a physical connection as well, cementing a sense of genuine affection.

On my first date ever, when I was not Jewish, and was just 15 and was sexually curious, I went to a movie. It was clear already that he liked me, and I liked him; however, since we had not explicitly acknowledged this to each other we were both nervous. During the course of the movie, he managed to hold my hand. I was delighted beyond words. Holding hands, hugs, kisses, these were all the things that were supposed to happen when someone liked me and I him. I didn't pause to consider whether the action was commensurate with some level of psychological rapport, I was simply thrilled to have our hands intertwined. It "proved" that he really did like me after all and that I liked him, saving us both the awkward verbal exchange.

I miss the unspoken magic of that first moment when one holds hands. That magic doesn't exist in the Orthodox Jewish world, but at the very least I was lucky enough to experience it before I converted. It's sad that teens are condemned by (something resembling) halakha for wanting, which I imagine wrecks the magic.

Introductory Post

Hello. Welcome to my (sexual) confession(s).

The Orthodox Jewish world does not encourage frank expression of sexual desire, except in marriage, and I am healthily skeptical that those conversations occur in very many marriages. The Orthodox Jewish world further portrays to (single) women the notion that (single) men are fairly filled with lust, and it is the responsibility of a woman to restrain not merely her own desires, but those of men as well.

There is no place for a non-anonymous confession: to openly admit that I long to lie in a man's arms at night, to desire and be desired, to stamp my name on such yearning, has no place in the public Orthodox sphere. Passion is the prize of marriage, nothing less.

Still, I believe that these things I want are the necessarily secret hope of many observant women, and I would like to believe that this blog will not merely be my voice, but the voice of those many women who long, as I do, to be valued through touch.