After my last post, I started to think about the 'perfect virginity loss experience'. As you can imagine, this story is as rare as hen's teeth but I'll never forget the words of the following woman who wrote to me at my blog, The Virginity Project.
It wasn't awkward. And it lasted quite a long time. Afterwards, I was ecstatic and as we sat cuddling on the side of the bed we opened a bottle of strawberry sparkling wine and ate mandarin oranges to celebrate. We then crawled back into bed and fell asleep smiling and holding hands.
How lovely is that? It helped me to illustrate the idea that virginity loss can be idyllic, contrary to what we might believe. But it's peculiar how the mind plays tricks on itself because returning to this story, I remembered how its owner - despite the raw, happy simplicity of the words above - took a long time to get over this experience. Why? She felt guilty. She was the motivating factor. She pushed for this experience to happen way more than her boyfriend did.
Isn't it funny (in a non ha ha sort of manner) to think that here in the 21st century, at least in the Western world, we are still conforming to such stereotypical gender roles. We expect it of traditional societies and cultures but we don't expect it of our own. Despite having a virtual textbook perfect virginity loss experience, Kacie still feels a residual guilt about the fact that she didn't play the subservient role in her virginity loss story
It won't be the part of the tale that I remember. I will remember two teenagers who sat on a bed drinking strawberry wine and eating oranges minutes after consummating a friendship of five years. There aren't too many things in life that are much sweeter than that are there?
Kacie, Canadian, born 1989, lost virginity at 19
I'd say that the relationship my boyfriend and I have is a bit unusual; just because things rarely work out this way in real life. We met in grade 10, we talked once or twice but nothing ever happened. Grade 11 came around and one day in September he randomly hung out with me and we exchanged email addresses. I remember thinking 'Wow, this guy is really cool, but we have absolutely nothing in common'. Then in January we started taking salsa dance lessons together; by June we were best platonic friends.
He went overseas for a year to study and once he came back, we started hanging out again but things had changed somehow. We were in this weird place between best friends and boyfriend/girlfriend, so we talked about it and started officially dating in July. Come October, we confessed the love we'd had for each other all along, and I started bringing up the topic of sex. I guess it's unusual for the girl to be the instigator, but I knew I was ready and that I wanted to be with him. He was a bit more hesitant, but ultimately decided he was ready too.
We decided that the second weekend in November would be the time. The weekend came and the first time we tried he was too nervous and couldn't stay hard. The second time was the same. At this point, I didn't believe him saying that he was ready, and accepted (somewhat grudgingly) that it just wasn't going to happen right now. We went on with the weekend, and the next evening before bed we were fooling around. Things started getting heated, but I didn't want to pressure him so I said goodnight and rolled over to sleep. He kept teasing me and touching me, and finally I whispered 'Please...' and he asked 'Please what?' to which I replied 'Please f**k me'. And he did. It was nothing like I had been told it would be like. It wasn't painful. It wasn't awkward. And it lasted quite a long time. Afterwards, I was ecstatic and as we sat cuddling on the side of the bed we opened a bottle of strawberry sparkling wine and ate mandarin oranges to celebrate. We then crawled back into bed and fell asleep smiling and holding hands.
While I wouldn't now change how or who it happened with; it took me a long time to come to terms with it. Afterwards I felt like I had forced him into it, although he maintains to this day that I didn't. And it wasn't romantic, careful, or tender. It was passionate, wild, and lustful. And although I never doubted his love for me, I sometimes wish it could have been more reflective of that, and less reflective of our passion for each other. I still feel slightly ashamed that I 'begged for it' and have never told anyone that part. Never-the-less, I've pretty much accepted it to be what it is and we have continued to date and be in love for 1.5 years now.
After being best friends for almost 5 years, we're moving in together next week, and are both hopeful that this love will last a lifetime.