Being A Virgin In The 21st Century


Being a virgin today is like being a unicorn. In University, I feel like I am a rare kind, and those who are virgins mostly try to hide it and are desperately trying to lose it. On the other hand, I am a virgin by choice. I made the decision when I was young and before I was even fourteen. Many things drove my choice, religion being one of — but not the only consideration — of that decision. Secretly, I will admit I am a hopeless romantic and I want to give my virginity to the guy who deserves me, and that I will be able to give him something and have an experience with him that I’ve never had with anyone else. When I’m married.

When I first started University, I had a long-term boyfriend. People assumed we’d had sex and that wasn’t really a problem. Honestly, I was proud of my decision. However, we broke up recently and facing the dating world is entirely another beast. I have learnt recently that announcing I am a virgin will elicit surprise and sometimes, even disgust. Strangely, guys and girls have entirely different reactions. Girls either look at me quizzically or tell me I haven’t experienced life or tell me how amazing my decision is and they’d wish they were still virgins. Guys on the other hand are usually taken aback and many have tried to convince me that it’s perfectly normal and I need to lose it.

My favorite reaction by far was a guy I was dating. Given, we’d only dated a few days and we were sitting on his couch with his arms around me. We’d been talking about sex, which led to him asking when I’d lost my virginity. Of course, I embarrassingly stammered and tried to explain coherently (and failed) how I didn’t believe in sex before marriage. This was followed by an immensely long awkward silence, after which he told me he couldn’t date me because he couldn’t imagine a relationship going anywhere without sex, where I had to gather what little pride I had left and leave his house. It was a good thing at the time that I just lived next door, perhaps not so much now. This left me remarkably jaded about relationships.

We did try to date a little later on because at the time, we felt like we had so much in common and had this special connection. However, the knowledge that sex was not an avenue we’d explore together was an elephant in the room. He expressed anguish that we’d make out for four hours and he wasn’t getting any. On the other hand, I was constantly worried that he’d push me into something I wasn’t ready to. Soon after, we ended it.

I later hooked up with someone I was dating. He stayed the night after a lot of passionate kissing and maybe getting a bit handsy and left early in the morning when we woke up. I had never felt so used and ashamed, as I lay alone in my empty bed. I secretly wished he had stayed for breakfast and we had laughed over scrambled eggs and sausages sizzling on my George Foreman.

Later, I realized that I never wanted to feel like that ever again, especially after losing my virginity. I didn’t just want the guy to stay for breakfast that morning; I wanted him to be there for breakfast the next day, the next week, and the next years. I want to lose my virginity to someone I love, and someone who will love me and cherish me forever. It seems like a strange hope, even ridiculous, but there will be a guy who one day respects my decision that he will be lucky enough to be my first and my last. I don’t want to lose my virginity because I’m pressured by society or the guy I’m dating. I understand that dating me would be a sacrifice of my partner’s sex life and I understand it would be incredibly hard ( no pun intended) for them. But the person I invest time and money into should be worth the investment, and if someone finally does choose to date me with all this in mind, I know he think it’s worth chasing me and that he has more than a casual fuck in mind.

Frankly, I’m old fashioned. I want a guy who will woo me and I want to stop being messed around by guys who just want to have fun and something casual. In every relationship, you will get hurt whether it works out or not. You get to choose who gets to hurt you, and if they want me then this in exchange is a marginal sacrifice that if they really cared about me, they’d be willing to make.

A while ago, I was asked by a group of guys when I last had sex. For the first time in my life, my virginity wasn’t something to brag about. Instead, I avoided the question in a panicked frenzy. Now, I’m not ashamed of my choice (although I don’t want to be labeled by the orifices I let guys put their penis into because really, it’s no one else’s damn business but mine). I am a virgin and I’m proud of it.