'To the man who won't sleep with me'

Our Facebook feeds are notorious for bringing us epic articles, videos and posts --- and today's most impressive post was an article entitled: "To the Man who won't sleep with me."

I wanted to share it with you, but before I do, I want to say a few things about purity:

 A man that holds God's standard of purity high enough to lead a woman into purity until their marriage day is a blessing. A woman who can follow a man into purity and not be a stumbling block to her partner is also a blessing.

Notice I mention men's responsibility first. Why? Because men are initiators and women are responders. I've heard it said like this, and I think it explains the male and female relationship well: If you give a women a sperm cell, nine months later, she gives you a baby. That is her response to the initiation of fertilization. She has multiplied what you have given her exponentially. (like a lot a lot)

It is like that in every other area of our lives. Men set the atmosphere of a relationship, and woman are wired to be responders --- a help meet --- if you will. (Drawing these conclusions from Genesis, in the Garden of Eden, from the roles & responsibilities God gave Adam and Eve and who He first held accountable in the fall) Whatever you give a woman, she will respond to it exponentially; be it bitterness, pride, anger OR love, affection and happiness.

It is my belief that if more men would initiate in a Godly manner, it would be easier for women to fall in line with that, exponentially.

This article speaks volumes on this idea.

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Original article found HERE

It was a habit that started when the two of us would cram into my extra-long twin bed back in college. We were high school sweethearts. Even my comforter and throw pillows were blue and green: homage to our school colors. We’d stretch our toes and yawn together. And there was something to having him there, at arm’s reach, in the middle of our long-term relationship.

Our lives weren’t just connected by phone lines and hushed middle-of-the-night phone calls echoing along the walls of the hallway outside my dorm. You were there, a warm presence, a mound of a man I loved.

So many of us good Christian girls would do it. For a while our freshman year, it was like a game of nighttime musical chairs. We prayed, we listened to Christian music, we laughed about the days to come.

And then our boyfriends would come to visit us for the weekend in our four-person dorm. We’d forget that it didn’t matter if we were saving the Big Sleep for marriage. We were crossing a serious boundary, we were entering a realm of radical intimacy, whether we were breaking a commandment or not.

This pattern showed up in my relationships after we broke up. It repeated long after freshman year. Long after dormitory life. It echoed into the dynamic of every relationship since, just like the whispering late-night calls with my ex-high-school-honey.

Let me be clear: we know that sex before marriage is wrong. That was an obvious boundary to never cross.

But, every guy I’ve dated since then had a pillow with my name on it. In every relationship, spending the night, no matter how innocent it seemed, has crept back into the tide of my love life. I fell in love with a few men, and fell into the habit of closing my eyes to a face and waking to it again eight hours later.

It was a consolation for the marriage I didn’t have.

It wasn’t a big deal. It was just sleeping beside someone.

Until I met you.

We’ve been dating for a year now. And still, it happens the same way every night we hang out.

There’s no pillow in my name. There’s no space reserved for me while you sleep.

On our date nights, you look at the clock and watch the minutes drip down to midnight. Then, when the clock strikes twelve, you stand to your feet and offer me your hand.

“Here, let me walk you to your car,” you say. You call this “Cinderella time.” It’s our nickname for the moment when we say goodnight. When you nestle me safely there and wait for my “got home safe, love you” text.

To be honest, at first it really confused me.

I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted me around all of the time.

Yes, we’re the “good Christian boy and girl,” but haven’t all of the other Christian men I’ve dated wanted the same thing from me eventually? No matter how devout or respected they were in their communities?

We’ve learned this, these legally-single women and I. We’ve learned that we’re desired by becoming the prom queen. The Cinderella at the ball. There is something about our face, our frames that make us desirable. It’s our faces and frames that get us the free drinks and the phone numbers on cocktail napkins, after all.

“My sense of worth…was coming from the want of being wanted.”

And then I realized where my sense of worth was coming from. It was coming from an invitation to spend the night. It was coming from the want of being wanted. It was coming from a ritual that was breaking down my standards. Brick by brick.

You didn’t want this from me. And by this small gesture, by this boundary, by this standard, by this reasoning, you do love me.

You desire to see me flourish. You desire to save that for later. You desire to encourage me. And lead me through a healthy relationship.

And even better, you respect me. Which, oddly, looks a whole lot like love. Real love.

Our relationship will not be characterized by sleepovers. This is something sacred that you want to save, because you’ve learned lessons the hard way, too.

And I’m thankful. Thankful to have someone in my life who doesn’t fall for the “it’s not a big deal” trick. It’s a very big deal, you tell me. You let me know by keeping your word. You let me know by leading me well, and protecting my spirit.

I have to wonder if this is the sign. If this is what makes the difference. If this protection of my heart, this willingness to do things differently than our culture would suggest (even our Christian culture) is what leads to a beautiful life.

So, to the man who won’t sleep with me: I don’t want to sleep with you, either.

Because I love you, too.