The night I lost my “virginity” was completely and utterly lacking any sort of excitement, frenzy, climax (except for his astoundingly speedy orgasm) or notable emotions. It was also the first night a boy had ever told me he loved me… Go figure. The conversation went something like this:
Teenage boy is lying naked on top of Caitlin, his Magic Flesh Wand frighteningly close to the Crystal Cave of All Knowing Enchantment.
Caitlin: I can’t have sex with you. We don’t love each other.
Flesh Wand: Well! I was going to tell you, but now if I do it’s only going to seem like I’m trying to get in your pants!
Caitlin: Sucks to be you.
Five hours later:
Boy: I love you.
Engage clothing removal.
Then there was that crucial moment, that turning point when, as society has undoubtedly penetrated into your very soul, you reach some hidden secret about adulthood: what a penis feels like inside a vagina. HOLY SHIT. Stop the presses! Caitlin has achieved some almighty state of being! She has given up the very virtue of her body, committed her heart to a pimple-faced, video game-playing country bumpkin who has haphazardly attempted to arouse her. What was the conclusion to her experience?
No pain, no ecstatic sensation of bliss, no earth-shattering orgasm, no sense of fulfillment of womanhood, no deeper connection to this greasy-haired gangly fellow, just Meh.
Thank you society, you have once again made my life richer and more wholesome with your erratic ‘danger-zone’ thinking in regards to my vagina.
Here is the realistic essence of what happened when some guy placed his penis inside my body:
That place where my pee comes from, just beneath there, yea, that place got a little bit damp (it generally is, but kissing makes it more so), and glands became engorged, and that canal of a hole seemed as if it was requesting that something be inside of it at that moment (it is a rather perfect place for oblong shapes to be kept) and there just so happened to be a conveniently warm, hard thing attached to a person nearby who seemed like he needed some place to put something. So we helped each other out.
The matter of “exactly” when my virginity was “lost” is simple because I am a straight chick with a vagina that wanted some peen. Who knows when I would’ve ‘lost’ it if I were a lesbian or asexual… Would it be the first time I used a tampon? Masturbated with the end of a hairbrush? Rode a horse? Tried doing the splits in grade 6? Probably. Slutty 12-year old Caitlin… Jeeze Louise.
And my first thought once I had a penis inside my body: That’s it? …I can’t wait to tell my friends.
If that doesn’t confirm social constructs I don’t know what does.
When we pile up importance on a girl’s virginity, we place her worth as a human being in her remaining ‘pure’ or ‘untouched’, we place her moral compass in her vagina and tell her to not let anyone near the unwavering rightness of her virginal bod. Whether or not you are a good person is dependent on whether or not you’ve have had a penis inside you. Duh.
This ‘purity’ thinking is just plain awful on many levels. To name a few of those levels: it turns women’s bodies into objects that can be ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, which then enflames an internal debate of self-love vs. self-hate based on ones body ‘rightness’. When the body is objectified, it encourages rape culture by minimalizing the importance of consensual sex, which acknowledges women as positive sexual beings. Which is sexist. So really, what I am saying here is that virginity is sexist…
“The lie of virginity – the idea that such a thing even exists – is ensuring that young women’s perception of themselves is inextricable from their bodies, and that their ability to be moral actors is absolutely dependent on their sexuality. It’s time to teach our daughters that their ability to be good people depends on their being good people, not on whether or not they’re sexually active.”
That’s my dear friend Jessica Valenti from her book ‘The Purity Myth”. She’s pretty cool.
I’ve had sex that has taken me to other planets and back, sex that makes me question the very existence of my physical being and whether or not I’m sure my hand is my hand or the hand of the person whose eyes I’m staring into. I’ve had sex that has basically spiritually enlightened me. Yeah. It was freaky. But go ahead; ask me which moment was more monumental to my life thus far: the loss of my virginity, or a type of sex that seemed mythical while I was having it?
If you guessed the former, you are incorrect. Please re-read from here. However, this particular bout of sexy time came after having slept with a multitude of people who needed places to put things. I had had a copious amount of sex between the day I lost my virginity and the day I was transported to another world through someone’s touch.
Our perception of boning for the first time will only ever be as important, or as judgment ridden, as the people experiencing said boning make it out to be. To this, I say: fuck the concept of ‘losing your virginity’ and “Here Here!” to consensual pleasure!