There’s a huge elephant in the room, and it’s this little secret of mine that I hold close to both my heart and my crotch. It’s a special card I hold, one which gets me into an elite college club — the club of virgins.
My mother and father raised me with all of the best intentions. My father would make snide remarks about how awful and loose the younger generations are, how we “lacked respect” for ourselves and were too free-spirited for our own good. While I don’t believe it was his intention to have me brainwashed by sending me to private, religious schools, I was brainwashed all the same. As a result of the nuns, the Bibles, and the guilt, I left high school thinking that in order to be happy, one needed to be “pure.” Ridiculous, I know.
While my mother wasn’t exactly as religious as my father, she still instilled in me a need to wait. “Boys are bad!” she’d say as I spoke of my middle school crushes. “The good ones are worth waiting for.” And so I waited, and I waited, and I waited.
The funny thing about finding the boy worth waiting for is that no one really seems to want the girl who waited. I feel as though I was lied to and that makes me angry. Whereas I was once taught to view my virginity as a source of pride, I now find it something that I have to sort of hide. I am in my twenties and also a virgin — and in our society, I now feel that this is unacceptable. I missed the window of opportunity to lose my virginity at an acceptable age. Now I’m “that girl.” I am the virgin.
Back in high school, I dressed modestly, I competed in sports, and I never went past second base with a guy. Doing so would’ve made me feel too guilty, so I kept it all PG. Unfortunately for me (and I guess the boys I was “hooking up” with) I never let it get to the point of no return — even though I wanted to. I was always aware of what I was doing and I knew the exact point that I needed to make it stop so that I didn’t make a choice I thought I would regret. I was so pristine, so clean, so pure. I was the object of every fantasy — at least, in my mind I was. I was raised to believe that boys liked the chase, that they wanted the girl who made them wait, that they married the Jackie, not the Marilyn. But maybe, in that aspect, I was raised wrong.
I don’t necessarily despise the fact that I’m a virgin, but like I said, I certainly don’t love it, either. Sometimes I feel like it would be easier if I just ripped my virginity off like a Band-Aid. Right now, it’s just there. It’s this lull in my life. It’s this thing that I want to get rid of, but now that I’ve waited so long, it almost feels like there’s even more pressure to get the first time right. I know my first time is going to be just as shitty as everyone else’s. It is not going to be magical like I was raised to believe.
You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I know I may be missing out on some crazy times, but for now, I’m okay with getting drunk and making out. Like I said, I may have missed the window to lose my virginity at an acceptable age, but that is now my cross to bear. While I’m not thrilled about having been raised to resent sex so much, I now have realized that it’s something I can partake in — and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it. Sex is a choice. It is my choice to make, not anyone else’s. I won’t be a virgin forever, but for now, I’m still content with waking up in my own bed on Saturday morning. I’ll save the walk of shame for another day..