Before I even begin, let me just say that the act of ‘popping your cherry’ or being ‘deflowered’ or whatever you want to call it has too much pressure attached to it.
We as a society have this obsession with ‘firsts’ and this kind of pressure has made the whole concept tainted in a way. Not only is the concept of virginity something made up, but it has also been used as a means of putting women down.
Notice how all of the ‘cute’ little phrases associated with losing your virginity all have to do with women. It often is considered a bigger deal for girls, but I think that comes from this Virgin Mary complex that is ingrained into westernized societies. We are to be seen as ‘pure’ and ‘innocent’ which means not engaging in sexual activities, but that shouldn’t be the standard anymore; there shouldn’t be any standard at all.
All of this pressure got to me in a way that I didn’t expect. I grew up consuming and spouting the idea that virginity was such a silly thing to get worked up over. Yet, I didn’t follow the same advice and mentality that I was spewing myself.
Because of all the hype around the event, I had such a grand apprehension about it. I didn’t want my precious first time to be something that I regretted as I had heard happens with many other people. There are many people that claim to have rushed their experience and I think that is a part of the problem as well.
There has to be a healthy balance between the two. One shouldn’t rush it, but I think we shouldn’t place so much value on it either. It’s crazy that we drive ourselves insane over something that is completely made up.
Since I was so scared about regretting it, I had already put up a wall to prevent me from ever doing so. Yet, in the same breath, I would complain about my virginity status as all my friends around me were not virgins and were enjoying their sexual awakenings.
Nevertheless, I waited. The more I waited though, the more I questioned what I really wanted. I thought I wanted my first time to be with someone I cared about. I wanted it to be something like out of a movie, which is another problem with the whole concept of virginity as well.
Movies do such a good job at sensationalizing events such as these. The same issue with romance movies occurs. It sets up this certain expectation about what is supposed to happen. The truth is, many firsts are not considered to be special, which I personally don’t think is a problem.
My first time was special for me but not for the reasons you might think. The story begins with a harmless pregame at an apartment. I accompanied my best friend to this party as it was being hosted by a boy she was seeing at the time.
I personally love a good game of beer pong, so I made a beeline to the table where it was being played. I stood there watching the game, absorbed by the ping pong being thrown back and forth, and one of the players decided to strike up a conversation with me. I could tell that he was probably flirting with me and I played along thinking not much of it.
The night continued and this boy stood by my side for the remainder of the night. The more we talked, the touchier we got. He insisted that we go back to his apartment. I met his question with “maybe” and “I might be too tired” but eventually my primitive brain got the best of me.
I knew that if I agreed to go back to his place that something would happen. I was intrigued, though, and he made me feel comfortable. I wasn’t really scared and decided to just say f*ck it.
His place was a short walk from where the pregame was being held, so I walked on over with him. We reached his apartment and that’s where we began the so-called important event.
I’ll save you the details as well as saving some of my dignity.
However, once we finished, I remembered laying there thinking: “That’s it?”
I’m not sure what I was expecting. No metamorphosis occurred. There was no ‘glow’ that I had read about in Wattpad stories. I had decided to tell him after the fact, and he gave me a high five and a congratulations.
I layed there unable to sleep so I decided to get up and order myself a Lyft.
Unfortunately, I had also taken my contacts out, so I was blind as a bat trying to navigate this random guy’s apartment. I collected my belongings as best as I could, except for my shirt (R.I.P. to that shirt), and made my way out the door once the Lyft said it was five minutes away.
Once the front door closed behind me, I knew I was screwed. I attempted to leave by following the exit signs that lined the hallways but that only propelled me further into the labyrinth.
Eventually, as I was roaming the hallways aimlessly, the guy contacted me via Snapchat and asked me where I had gone. He had woken up to a blank spot in his bed. Embarrassed, I had to tell him to come to rescue me as there was no way of me getting out without help.
I waited in front of a random apartment and he eventually found me. I was unsure of his expression as like I said before, I am blind as sh*t. But he was not mad or upset and was very nice to drive me home to my apartment.
I arrived home safely and went straight to bed. Before I had fallen asleep, there was a pit I felt in my stomach. I was afraid that I had perhaps done something wrong. I was scared that I was going to regret what had occurred and that I missed my shot at having another “first time”.
In the morning, my friend who had taken me to the pregame grilled me about the event. She was excited for me and wanted to know all of the details. I began to tell her the story as well as the part of me walking aimlessly in the hallways.
She laughed at all the parts I had intended to be laughed at and was overall very happy for me. Her excited nature made me feel better. I realized that I had put so much emphasis on this event because I was afraid of what other people would think.
In the end, I realized I shouldn’t care what people think. I was glad I had finally gone through with it because it now allowed me to freely date and participate in ‘hook-up culture’ without all of the pressure of being a ‘virgin.’ I realized that I wanted that all along.
And that is the main problem with the concept of virginity. While I know I don’t love the concept of it, I do believe that it is here to stay. However, I think that it is something that is personal to each person. No one else should be able to dictate how you should go about it or if you even lost it. Everyone has the right to lose it how they choose.
I thought I wanted it to be with someone special, but I realized that it might take a while for that person to come around, and I didn’t want to be waiting around forever. This random guy freed me from my own problems with virginity. He is now a story for my archives, one I can tell when I’m exchanging ‘how you lost your v-card’ stories.
If you had a horrible first time, don’t count it! It didn’t happen! You get to decide when it has been lost. Even if you cannot do that, you shouldn’t place so much value on it. The whole point of it being your first time is that there is more to follow. That person will not be your last and if anything, you have an interesting story to tell.