Why It's Not Fun To Sleep Around Once You've Gained A Strong Sense Of Self

"I think I'm ready for a real relationship," my good friend said to me over iced coffee on a scorching hot day.

I looked at him, raising my eyebrows. "You're ready for a relationship? You, the token bachelor of our group?"

"Yeah," he said, looking out and above the smoke rising from the butt of his cigarette. "I feel like I've proven to myself that I can pull. I can have whoever I want, whenever I want. It's all too easy. I don't want it anymore."

I'd never looked at it that way -- well, not until he said it anyway. I empathize with my friend because I'm very much a bachelorette.

For a while, I survived on the fast, cheap thrill of snagging the gorgeous guy. You know, the one at the end of the bar who all the girls want but are too afraid to strike up a conversation with. The guy I eventually grew the balls to march up to and talk to, with a phony smile of confidence, all the while thinking, Me?! He's talking to me? And he's actually listening to what I have to say? and then bring him home.

My friend is right. Sex with strangers isn't fun anymore.

Once upon a time in college, when I didn't know who I was, I slept with all the princes in the land who were willing to put a glass slipper on my foot (I've even slept with a frog or two). I suppose I did that because I just barely knew who I wanted to be, what made me tick and what didn't, how I felt about organic food and the state of our country and crop tops with midi skirts.

But something changed. As college wound down, I secured my very first job writing, the one thing in the world that always makes my heart skip a beat without fail. And I also grew quite fond of organic food and the state of our country and crop tops with midi skirts.

That's when I stopped looking to other people for the answers and started sleeping around less and less.

I used to question my self-worth. In fact, I'd even say I didn't have a sense of self-worth at all. I used to think my long, raven-colored tresses and caramel-colored skin were the only things I had going for me. I was so wrong.

I learned I'm smart. I also learned I'm pretty damn charming and that men not only want to be in bed with me, but they also want to be around me, even when I'm not naked. And by fostering and nurturing all of those things I like about myself other than the way I look, I gained a kind of confidence you can only gain by giving all of yourself to too many unspecial people.

Sleeping with enough unspecial people made me realize I'm special.

Sleeping with enough unspecial people made me realize I'm special.

I used to only sleep with people to prove to myself that I could. These days, I rarely ever have sex with strangers. But when I do, well, it's because I just really need to have sex. Random sex is only fun when you'd rather be with anyone but yourself.

Now, instead of bedding every hot guy that came my way, I found myself choosing only to bed the hot guys who stimulated my mind as much as they stimulated my body. That rare breed left me with a tiny pool of men to sleep with. So here I am, wading through that pool because I've grown up.

That's the thing about growing up. You really come into your own and you realize you'd rather just hang out by yourself than with someone you half-like but love to bang. You find your strengths and your weaknesses; the things about you that you can use to your advantage and the things about you that make you feel alive.

And with that, you either choose to share them with someone you care about or keep them all to yourself and no one else.