On the night I lost my virginity, I fucked stupid. It was at a house party, I was sufficiently tipsy, and he really wasn’t bad looking.
Also I really just wanted to be rid of my stupid hymen.
Back in Waa Girls (my second high school), on the right hand side of the blackboard where we wrote daily quotes, someone once wrote: “Virginity is Lack of Opportunity.”
I was put off at first but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense in my situation. I later even found it hilarious especially when the first teacher of the day found the quote and angrily wiped it off. (It was always a fun thing to annoy teachers in high school) The thought however, remained.
And that night, in my first year of campus, I decided this is it!
It was perfect really. This guy had a dick, wanted to fuck, I’d probably never see him again, and we’d never be emotionally attached. It was freaking perfect!
I know many girls like the idea of losing their virginity to someone who’d cherish it or something like that, but I never held much pride in mine. Maybe because I felt like it wasn’t really mine. It was just a token I was carrying around for some man who will hopefully see me as worthy simply because I had it.
And I loathed the thought of it!
It had never been my plan to give it up to a guy I felt something serious for, because I had seen enough thankless men to know no one man will ever have my all.
I’d warned the guy that I was a virgin (he seemed pleased by this piece of information), and thank goodness he minded that fact in his consequent pounding. About five minutes later, I was no longer a virgin.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about it all, so I slept it off and on the morning after, I waited to feel like trash. The way you taste green pepper to find out how hot it is, only to find out it doesn’t even sting, the feeling never came.
I did see him again; we remained friends and I got to know him better much to my disappointment. Out of the cover of a night of good company, music and black coffee laced with just the right amount of whiskey, I felt a little put out that I fucked him. HIM!
We had about two more house parties at his place, but we never fucked again. One night stands I decided, should remain just that.
The second and final time I almost fucked stupid was at yet another house party. I actually had a great time dancing with the guy. He was really nice. Also, I was super horny and it had been quite some time since I’d had some and yet, when I truly considered fucking him, I couldn’t get past the thought: “This guy? Really Hellen?”
I have since given up on sex with strangers whose values I do not truly know. And it’s not because I am pure. I actually think I would be in danger of becoming a shameless slut in a place where the men were honorable gentlemen, had good heads on them, and among other things, knew how to treat a woman right; not because women, to them, are weaklings that need coddling, but because they are feminists themselves.
If I am to be honest with myself though, the biggest reason I no longer bother with casual sex is because I am deeply disgusted by the average man; his self worth the size of his penis, his belief that a woman’s breathe is for his personal pleasure; and the conviction society has bestowed upon him- that he deserves worshiping no matter that he does not carry himself as a god.
And no, I do not think of myself as a rare piece of art either; to be savored only by an elite few. I am an artist myself, who in kind, would also like to enjoy other artists, as the magical creatures they are.
In eroticism, as in the making of genuine connections with others no matter how fleeting, I believe, if it’s not magic, it’s really not worth it.