Finding Myself as a Twenty-Something

In my teens, I didn't like to be alone. The idea of being alone, while everyone else was out enjoying their lives, was too much to bear. I couldn't imagine the idea of being single forever or not finding someone to love me. For a long time, I didn't think any person would find me more than just strictly attractive or someone to bang on a Saturday night.

I remained single for as long as I had because it felt like an insult to myself to sleep with the first few unworthy men who showed an interest in me. Being 22, it's hard to look back and not want to change my decisions. Would I be happier if I slept around like everyone else did in high school? Would I be happier if I could list all the names of the men I slept with so that I could show people how valuable I was?

My decision to remain a virgin gave me the privilege of not having to worry about about whether or not the man I slept with was having sex with someone else, and saved me from regretting a sexual experience.

I haven't given my heart to anyone until I was in my twenties, and I'm thankful I do not know what it is like to have a painful end to something I worked so hard to hold together especially after being intimate. Although the perks were definitely appreciated, sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and think, "did I make the right decision? or was I simply too careful in my teens?" I did not go to parties or live the life that teens brag about on tv shows and music videos.

I had a simple yet satisfying upbringing in New York City, hanging out with friends, going on dates (which never led to any long-lasting relationships) and coming home before dark or before my parents had a conniption fit. There were fun nights that I will always remember, but they were few and far between.

In my twenties, most of my fun memories center around my boyfriend and I making love for hours, and watching Netflix together. I would hope that it does not make me sound like a boring person, to be satisfied by the simpler things in life.

Although the simple things give my life the most meaning, there is always this thought at the back of my head, making me wonder, "Are you really living?" It may sound like a silly question, because well, of course I'm living, but with the rise of social media and my personal drug, Instagram, it is easy to feel unsatisfied with what I have always been satisfied with, in comparison to the followers who are wealthier and more privileged than I am.

Many of these so-called privileged and wealthier twenty-somethings have had multiple boyfriends, one night stands, traveled the world, and lived through many exciting experiences, while my whole world centers around New York City and being single for the first half of my life.

As the thought enters my brain, I look at the situation realistically. There is always going to be someone who's dated more, had more sex, traveled more, partied more, or has more money. It is impossible to compare your life with others who do not have the same obstacles and/or privileges that you may have.

The fact that I've been out of the country on a number of occasions, have fallen in love in a place as marvelous as New York, and have been living my best life sexually, physically, and emotionally, should give me the strength to focus on my own gratifications without relying on others to have less than I have to feel valid.

There are still days where I compare myself and get lost in Instagram's vast and toxic atmosphere, but the important thing is that at the end of the day I love who I am and would not change that for the world.