How I Lost My Virginity
By Ali Kavanagh
One Love and I were quite emotional for being 16. We dated for four months and then broke up. But we didn’t really break up, because he still texted me every day about some horrible thing I did, or to see how I was because he wasn’t mad at me for said horrible thing anymore. We didn’t really break up because we still deeply cared for each other and discovered we loved each other all while being “broken up”.
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Before the not-breakup we were at his house kissing and dry-humping in his bed (as 16-year-olds do). He finally, after much anticipation, asked me if I wanted to. I said yes. Well, my mind said “Yes! I’ve been talking, thinking, writing about this moment for weeks, I am SO ready”, while my body said “Hey, it’s completely inconvenient but how about you start shivering and shaking until you convince yourself this is a bad idea”. We didn’t have sex. I remained virginal. We broke up a month later and we were both devastated.
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I lived in a boarding house full of girls my age that had already engaged in coitus. I was falsely informed that heading to university a virgin is “social suicide.” I thought there ought to be something wrong with me. Why was I so nervous to engage in this completely natural act with someone who I really liked? I didn’t care about anything else, why did I care so much about this?
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We spent months thinking about each other, and we texted daily, but we never once sat down for coffee. We got in many fights via text, one being on my graduation night. I turned my phone off and I took five shots of Absolut vodka, which is the equivalent of ten shots when you are on anti-depressants.
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I had known the boy visiting from California for four years. He was tall, kind and, athletic. Fully equipped with curly hair and an adorable smile, he was the object of every girl’s affection through high school. He was dancing in a cage and so was I. I kissed him hard, he didn’t resist.
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Adorable smile and I are back at the hotel. I can’t see straight, but I know I am having a great time. He grabs a condom and struggles with it for a moment. For a split second I feel nervous, debating whether I should inform him of my virgin-status. Before I think too long, it happens. It isn’t romantic. It isn’t with the perfect boyfriend I thought it would be with. We didn’t eat a picnic before it. It wasn’t under the stars at “our spot.” We didn’t talk it out; we didn’t say we loved each other before. We just followed our instincts. It was done, and he assured me it was okay that he didn’t finish; we changed the bloody sheets together and after, I sat on his lap and shared kisses with him while we hung out together with our other friends.
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Adorable smile and I spent the rest of the weekend together doing fun things in the city while we still could. We parted ways the morning he left to go back to California. He gave me a bear hug in the hotel lobby, and I gave him his flannel. I left the city feeling better than I did upon arrival.
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One Love and I got back together a few weeks later. We are still together to this day, and have never been happier. He is my best friend and an extraordinary partner in life. There is such a stigma focused around losing your virginity. If you’re a virgin, you’re a prude. If you’re not, you’re easy. Those words could not be farther from the truth. Everyone chooses his or her own path. The thing I was so nervous about with One Love didn’t end up being a huge deal after all. When asked if I regret not losing my virginity to him, I say I don’t. I had a great experience and gained a lot of wisdom from my graduation weekend. Plus, One Love and I have great sex all the time now.