For all of the sexual experiences I’ve had in the past two years, the day I lost my virginity stands as the most important.It was tender and beautiful and loving. it was nothing like the rest of the time I spent with my partner. It wasn’t until after that I learned the way that heartache and lies will rearrange your insides. The way that bodies no longer dovetail after you start to hate each other.I’d tried to have sex before, but every time, I panicked. I was so ashamed of my virginity because it felt dissonant, other. I am a confident, beautiful woman with a sensual body and a quick tongue. but at 20 years old, and 18+ years of catholic standard abstinence, I had no idea what to do with the void between my legs.
He invited me to his dorm room to watch a movie. I laid against his chest. After it was over, he asked permission to kiss me. I laughed because it was more considerate than anything I had expected from him, with his wild hair and weird clothes and his charmingly awkward patterns of speech. he was slow and careful, and I stayed silent until I couldn’t.
“I’m a virgin,!” I blurted. My voice cracking. He stared at me with surprise.
“Okay,” he said. “Are you uncomfortable?”
I started to cry, which answered his question. I stood up because I hate emoting in front of other people. I tried to dress quickly. He followed me and hugged me from behind. He was warm.
He walked me back to my apartment in the freezing January air. I stayed mostly silent. he never stopped talking. His words ensconced the gaping awkwardness between us. He kissed me goodnight and he smiled.
“Please don’t be upset. I want to hang out with you because I like you, not because I want to have sex with you.”
So we kept hanging out. How could I not? One day, it snowed. We took pieces of cardboard out of a dumpster behind the dining hall and used them as sleds. We ran around, cackling until we couldn’t feel our feet and our noses were beet red.
He came over and we put our wet clothes in the dryer. We got under the covers. This time, I asked if I could kiss him, and he said yes.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I just said I’m ready,” I replied, annoyed. “just don’t shove it in there.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
I twirled his long curls around my fingers and tried to focus my attention on all of the touching. the skin on top of my hip bones tingled as he traced his fingers and lips around the contours of my body. I felt him slip a single finger inside of me. It reminded me of the gynaecologist.
“I’m not that much of a virgin,” I said. He laughed nervously.
I still remember the smell of the condom as he rolled it on.
“Okay, here I go,” he declared.
He pulled my quilt up around his shoulders, shrouding us both in blissful darkness. he used his hands to guide himself inside, and I waited for the pain I had been warned about, but it never came.
“Wow,” I said.
“Are you okay?” he asked, tensing up.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “it’s just…a lot. in a good way.”
“Just tell me if you need to stop,” he said. “Tell me what feels good.”
It was calm and rhythmic. I tried to match his movement. I rocked my hips in time with his until I felt him shudder and sigh.
He stayed inside of me for a while, letting his lips rest on my neck. It was so perfectly intimate.
“I’m going to take the condom off now,” he said.
“oof,” I said as he pulled out.
we both got up to clean ourselves. I stared at myself in the mirror. I stood straight and strong, emboldened by the feeling deep inside my pelvis. it was like someone had scooped out my insides. but it wasn’t bad. A small, red flower bloomed where my body had been. he looked at the stain then looked at me.
“Ihat’s normal,” he explained.
“I know,” I retorted.
“Can I come back later?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Bring more condoms.”
“You got it, dude.” He kissed me then we fist bumped.
I count myself lucky to have had such a positive deflowering. after all of the penance I did, all of the repression and ignorance, I think i deserved it. I only wish someone had told me that sex felt good, that it would make me feel whole and help me to fall deeper in love with myself. If I’d had known, maybe I wouldn’t have waited so damn long.