I’m a 25-Year-Old Virgin — Let Me Have Sex!

I am 25 years old. I have lived in four countries. I am a university graduate. I define myself as a straight woman. And I am a virgin.

I tell you these things to let you know that I have an education, both in the real world and in school; that I am someone with credibility and intelligence. And so when I tell you I’m a virgin, you can assume that I’m not somebody preaching about the merits of “saving yourself,” or that I’m somehow inexperienced or not knowledgeable about the world of sex.

Actually, I’m quite knowledgeable. I’ve done my research. I’ve asked around. I know what and where my clit is. I know that a lot of men don’t know. I know how I like to be touched, where I like to be touched, and, theoretically, how to reach climax. I know. But what I didn’t know was how hard it would be to lose my virginity.

I do not mean emotionally. I mean finding a guy who is mutually attractive, both physically and mentally, and is willing to swipe my V-card. You might be thinking that asking a guy to have sex is easy, just go out on a Saturday night.

That’s what I thought, too.

I propositioned a gentleman the other week after we’d fooled around the night before. Things were progressing, but we weren’t in a very private place (ahem, a room with three other people sleeping in it). I stopped things and promised him I’d explain in the morning when we were both a little less inebriated. The next day arrived and I texted him, “I’d really like to finish what we started, but you should know I’m a virgin. I stopped things last night because I want to have a bit more privacy and attention to detail. I think you’re a cool guy and I’d like to see you more often, see where things go.” Hours later, he responded and two things happened: 1. He called it “my situation;” 2. He assumed I wanted a relationship.

Let’s tackle one. First of all, virginity is not a problem. It’s not a disease, an affliction, something that I need to get taken care of. It’s a label, an identifier. An act that I have not yet experienced because I was waiting for the right mindset, the right level of horniness, the right me to come along, ready to go all the way.

Which leads me into number two. There is a stereotype that lady virgins will become attached, enamored, obsessed with the first boy she has sex with. Gentleman, let me let you in on a little secret: Your dick is not that amazing. In fact, your dick is not always that important to ladies reaching orgasm. And, actually, your dick isn’t the reason that most ladies want to have sex for the first time. There are two reasons why ladies end virginity: 1. They found someone they love or like a lot; 2. They’re ready to have sex.

Swiping the V-card and taking the guy home has a lot more to do with me, than it does with the guy. I had my first oral sex experience with a gentleman a few months ago, and he asked, “Why me?” I answered, simply, “It’s more that I was ready than that it was with you.” I want to end my state of virginity because I want to. I’m not dating anyone, and I don’t have a big crush on anyone (except Chris Pratt—those thighs though). I am simply ready. I’m ready to experience this thing that people rave about, that advertising uses to sell, that pop culture is always trying to portray in various mediums. It is a universal experience, and I’m ready to tap it.

I want to explore this new and exciting world of sex. I’d like to do it with someone I trust, who is respectful and attractive. I want a friend with all the benefits. And yet, I have both personal and second-hand experience with boys refusing to go the distance because they—the boys—think that a woman’s virginity should be given to someone “special” who really cares about her. For some reason, gentlemen keep thinking we don’t know the decision we’re making, or assume we’ll turn into a stage-five clinger, and, instead, are making the decision for us rather than letting us make that decision ourselves.

Bottom line, gents, if she’s willing and consenting to moving forward, and you’re willing too? Then get. it. on. We’ve all made worse decisions in our lives. Drinking questionable milk before smelling the carton, anyone?