My skin actually peeled itself away from my body and crawled away as I listened to this gem: “I was listening to…the author of And the Bride Wore White talking about a teenage girl sitting in the lap of her father, and she was telling her dad, ‘You know, Dad, I don’t know if there’s something wrong with me. All my friends want boyfriends, and they have boyfriends, but I don’t have a desire for that.’ And her dad looked at her and said, ‘Well, where are you?’”
At which point, had I been that teenage girl, I would have replied, “Eww! I’m sitting in my father’s lap talking about how I have none of the normal desires of teenagers! Seeya, Pops. I’ve got some cock to suck—and it ain’t yours!”
Mind you, I don’t disbelieve that a strong family network, particularly loving and attentive parents, is the best defense against young adults acting out in self-destructive ways (including ill-advised sex) in pursuit of lacking attention at home. I take no issue with that premise. But I do take issue with the premises that all sex before marriage is intrinsically bad, that only a father’s love and attention can keep a girl on the straight and narrow, and especially that the affections of a parent are a substitute for a romantic relationship.
My first serious boyfriend (who remains one of my best friends to this day) and I both came from loving, attentive families—and not only that, my parents love him and his love me. We hung out for years before we did anything sexual; it wasn’t until I was already away at college (and he was in his senior year of high school) that we finally fumblefucked our collective cherry away. But long before that, I was learning about who I was (and was going to be) as an adult through my relationship with him, in ways I wouldn’t have done if I were using my dad as a proxy boyfriend. Discouraging teenage girls from pursuing romantic relationships with the opposite sex (or, heaven forbid, the same sex), because it might—gasp!—lead to sex, diminishes their ability to become women. In my parents’ eyes, I will always be their little girl, and it was only as I moved into the world and away from them that I became a woman. Having romantic relationships was a part of that.
These virginity pledges aren’t just about asking girls to commit to not having sex until marriage; they’re asking girls to commit to never becoming women. A girl who goes from daddy’s lap to husband’s lap, without having experienced the self-realization that is afforded by early romantic relationships, sexual or not, learns only how to be loved by men in whatever way those men choose. A woman knows precisely how she wants to be loved, what she needs and desires, and that makes her a better—and equal—partner and a more fulfilled person. That strikes me as a lot to exchange for making daddy happy by never spreading your legs.
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