The first time we have sex is supposed to be memorable, yet most women have erased the awkwardness and surprising displeasure of the experience. This is sex? We ponder with gritted teeth. This is what my momma told me to to hold out for? We question as we exhale to release the sting. Shifting of hips and pelvises. An elbow jabbed. A myriad of mumbles. Oops! Sorry! Are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?
A little or a lot of blood. The hymen, a minute tissue that has never been seen, has been broken. And there it goes. Our virginity. Lost though it was never missing. Given to a man who we have labeled as someone special. Our rose petals have fallen and we become women with full fledged pepas™.
What happens next depends on the situation at hand. We either continue experimenting sexually with the receiver of our V-card or the next man comes along. Because you chose the wrong man. Because you assumed this would lead to something but it was actually nothing. Because you wanted to be rid of your virginity like a wife desperately wishes to dump her husbands clunky, useless man-chair.
My virginity was much like that unmovable chair. At 23, it had become an obstacle to remove, not a gift to give to a loved one. This is surprising to most as I adore my pepa™. One doesn’t treat something or someone you adore with such disregard, but my love for my pepa™ didn’t come onto later in life. In my 20’s, I didn’t know how to utilize the power of my parts. And so, like the average 15 year old girl who gives away her virginity blindly, I gave up my V-card to a man who didn’t matter. I walked into his dorm on a Friday night at 1am, clear in my decision. I crept into his bed and soon felt the pain and the loss of my hymen. With that loss came a little blood. I found it when I wiped myself after using the bathroom. With that loss came the loss of my dignity and self-worth.
Though it was my decision, I don’t wish this experience on any virgin. No matter how much we want to forget that first time, it shapes us and our view of love and sex. For me, it confirmed my feelings of worthlessness. The fact that we never had sex again solidified what I had assumed in adolescence: I am unlovable therefor people will always leave me.
So yes, my first time was memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. There was the awkwardness and the surprising displeasure and pain that led to my fingernails clawing into his back. This is sex? I pondered with gritted teeth. This is what mami told me to to hold out for? I questioned as I exhaled to release the sting.
Yes, that was it. And there it went. After 23 years of pride and waiting for the “right” man, my virginity was lost and given to a man who was not so special. After 23 years, my rose petals shed and I became a woman with full fledged pepa™.
SIDENOTE: Until now, I have never told the real story of how I lost my virginity. This was a big step for me so I’d appreciate any comments. If other brave souls want to share their story, please feel free to do so in your comments.