Boundaries

Physical progression in a relationship is what actually makes the difference between “falling in love” and “falling in lust”. Love and lust have but a fine line dividing them; in any case they must coexist in a perfect balance within any romantic relationship. Such a close interlink between the two only serves to reinforce the idea that physical intimacy is undeterminable by a boundary. Instead, it is an entire direction, and sometimes a focus, upon which a relationship is dependent upon.

Sooner or later, a pressing problem will emerge within each relationship. From its dormant position in the depths of the romantic lake, it will ascend slowly as boy and girl grow closer over time. Eventually its monstrous head will break the surface, and all hell would break loose.

How does one define a suitable boundary for this purpose?

Let us assume then that a boundary is chosen, whether because of religious reasons, or influence from their family or peers. Now, in most relationships in today’s society, young teenagers nurture their relationship with each other and set kissing as their boundary. Right.

But then, what is the difference between a chaste peck upon the cheek, and half an hour of passionate liplocking? Both are, indeed, toeing the line of the boundary.

Boundaries, unlike what most people think, are not infinitely fixed. They are capable of shifting under pressure. Sometimes they move slightly, slowly, so slowly that it is hardly noticeable; sometimes they progress in great leaps and bounds onward. But it is undeniable that they move, usually without any conscious knowledge.

And this is what is the most scary of boundaries.

A young man goes to the park with his girlfriend. It is late in the night and there are no prying eyes to view what passes between them.

“Dear, you’ve been letting me hold your hand all this while and I am ever grateful… May I kiss you goodnight?”

He then proceeds to give her a chaste kiss upon her cheek, at which she blushes. Both know in their hearts that they have reached their pre-set boundary and are now defiantly toeing it.

However it is undeniable that both of them had enjoyed that fleeting moment of intimacy that they had shared. Like young children who had tasted strawberries for the first time, they wanted more, deep down in their hearts.

And the monster, lying asleep at the bottom of the great lake, is aroused by that longing.
“Dear, may I kiss you again, but this time upon your lips?”

Any attempt at refusing the offer is patiently met with the request again and again. Eventually she caves, and the monster flaps its flippers faster.

“Dear, come here. I want to pet you in my lap.”

Hormones have clouded thinking. Now the monster can see the light, see it, as the boundary, their golden rule, disappears into nothingness. With an almighty roar its ugly head smashes the tranquil surface of the lake, bearing the weight of the final question.

“Dear, come lie with me.”

What went wrong? Well, it is wrong to instantly point fingers at either the young man or his girlfriend. It is the inner nature of humans, that they are constantly unsatisfied with what they have. They always wish to try for more, to enjoy that one fleeting moment of wonder and then daringly try again. It is not a question of where these two lovers should have set their boundary either, for wherever it was set it would have been pushed again and again before being smashed by youthful, innocent curiosity.

They had unknowingly unleashed that monster upon themselves, entered the Autobahn, that limitless highway of passion. They were pushed to go further by the example of those around them – upon a highway, the cars tend to go with the flow, even if the flow is above the speed limit. Furthermore, their own curiosity at how far they could go and what it would feel like thus overrode any logical and rational thinking. The worst of it is that this highway is full of speed trap points – points of no return.

We should not base a relationship upon any form of physical attraction, but rather savour a person’s character and inner beauty. When marriage traverses time and spans over the years, age pulls beauty away like another little demon. Now, if that beauty was what had driven one to marry, would the two still stay happily married when wrinkles and white hair spring up on a once-youthful countenance?

Marriage is the only fast roadster that the Autobahn of passion can cater to best. Before marriage, it is best to steer well clear of the direction, any road that leads towards this great highway of physical intimacy. But after marriage, when two are joined in holy matrimony and their bodies now belong to each other, only then can full consummation take place. For in marriage, things are allowed, meant to, get out of control.

If traveling upon this highway is only meant for a thrill, what would happen in each relationship that people go through? What would happen in the future when they truly stand at the altar? Imagine a church, all decorated with white and silver, ready to receive a groom and bride.

But as the two walk together down the long red-carpeted aisle, something bizarre happens. Slowly, one man gets up from the congregation and takes the bride’s hand. Then another joins him. Then another and another and another, until there is a string of at least seven men in procession with the couple.

How then, if you were that groom, would you feel? Especially because your wife-to-be had already given part of her heart to these men, had touched their lips and arms and strong bodies, and all you had now in marriage were the pieces left to yourself? Only the pieces? Like a present nicely wrapped, but unwrapped by others and then carelessly rewrapped?

Or if you were that bride, even if these men were not physically present, they would still be there. Like ghostly shades, bent upon haunting with emotional and physical bonds that were once existent. Imagine having to look upon their faces again, feeling the embarrassment creep in a red flush up your body at knowing that you had once bared yourself before such a man, such a man who is not your husband.

And that look upon your future husband’s face, that look of sad disappointment when he finds out, all the while having thought that you were his alone…