I’m not sure where the notion originated that your first time having sex has to be special. I’m assuming that some piece of fiction put into our heads that losing your virginity has to be all hearts, candles, and roses. I myself certainly wasn’t immune to the butterfly-inducing idea of being in love the first time you take the leap into sex. In high school, I giggled over crushes and waxed poetic about the guys I liked just as much as the next girl did (just as my journals from that time period). But at some point in my teens, the pressure to lose my v-card, as well as the idea that it had to be romantic, started to annoy the crap out of me. I realized that I was dating guys for the sole purpose of hoping they would be The One; wondering, at 16-years-old, if a crush would annoy me when I was in my fifties. Despite having very hippie liberal parents, I still got it in my head that I should find one guy, give up my v-card, and then spend the rest of my life with him. But one day, that all changed, and I started to wonder: did I really need to lose my virginity to the perfect guy?
This new thought process started with something my mother said to me. One day, my mom sat me down and gave me a sex analogy that in hindsight I think backfired on her. She told me that sex is like ice cream – it can be amazing and awesome, but it can also make you sick, and you should have it sparingly. I understood what she was trying to say: be responsible about sex and know your limits. What I really walked away thinking was that I freaking love ice cream, and I also loved a variety of flavors.
Around this time, I also realized that no one was telling my guy friends to have sex sparingly or to be picky about who they did it with. No one was giving them weird sex analogies to persuade them against doing it. Even my hyper-religious guy friends didn’t get the same lectures about waiting until marriage or love. It was like dudes were expected to play the field, while I was expected to wait.
Being the budding feminist I was, I started to think I was looking at my dates the wrong way. Instead of asking myself if they could be The One, I should have been asking myself if I trusted them, felt comfortable with them. The conversation with my mom was a turning point for me. I started to look at sex as I would look at ice cream: with no romantic ideals, just something I enjoyed and would have a lot of over the course of my life.
As I neared my 17th birthday, I decided that I was ready to have sex, should the opportunity arise. I had always been curious about it, and being the book-worm sort, I did what I always do when something fascinates me: I researched it. I would go to the library and the bookstore, searching for books about sex, until I got the information I needed. Thanks to these bookstore trips and my neighbor’s proud show and tell of his contraband porn collection, I learned the logistics. I knew I needed to be safe thanks to my own search – not thanks to the “sex education” class my Catholic high school taught. I knew it would hurt, and I knew it might feel weird. What I didn’t know is who it would be with.
I started paying a lot of attention to my guy friends. I wanted to lose my virginity to someone I felt completely comfortable with (after all, we would be naked together). I wanted him to be nice and funny, in case things got awkward. And I wanted it to be with someone who I figured would be at least a little concerned about whether or not I was having a good time.
Eventually, I found the perfect guy. We had been friends for a while, he was single he was funny and nice, I found him attractive, he wasn’t a virgin (this seemed important to me at the time), and we already spent a lot of alone time together. I don’t even remember how I started putting the moves on him, but at some point, we just became the kind of friends who kissed. Then we were the kinds of friends who made out. Then the kinds that did everything except have sex. And then one day when I went on vacation with him and his family, I decided that this would be it. Everyone was out hiking, and it was just me and him alone with a cabin full of bunk beds to choose from.
The actual sex was… well, it was a first time experience! We laughed our way through most of it, except for the moments I was cringing. I could tell he was nervous too, and we were both afraid his parents would come back, so there wasn’t a lot of foreplay. It was fast. I remember it felt like pinching, but eventually it stopped sucking. I didn’t have an orgasm – that would take a few more partners and the discovery of sex toys. But all in all? It was nice. It was not romantic in the least, and we barely even kissed. But as far as first time sex experiences go, it was lovely.
to being friends with benefits. I didn’t fall instantly in love with him, like some people say you will. It didn’t even make us closer as friends. It was just something we did when we hung out, which I didn’t mind, but I did wish that we could go back to the time we didn’t just expect to end up having sex. I still wishes we could just make out sometimes.
At the end of the day, though, I can confidently say this: I have zero regrets about how I lost my virginity and who it happened with me, and for me, that feeling was the most important. My virginity losing story might not be what every girl dreams of, but that’s okay, because it was how I wanted to do it. I don’t look back on that day too often, because it was just another day, and I’ve had a lot of better sex since then. But occasionally, I get nostalgic, and when I do look back, I laugh about how goofy it was and how happy I am that I thought things through and chose the guy I did.
My experience helped me discover that I could be attracted to someone, want to have sex with him, but not want to be in a relationship with him – and there’s nothing wrong with that. Not every person I’m attracted to is the person I’m compatible with in a romantic sense. After this experience, I experimented with a lot of different kinds of people. I always stayed safe, used birth control, and wore condoms. But I wasn’t shy about seeking out hookups. Playing the field taught me what I did and didn’t like in bed. Honestly? I think the fact that my first time was so casual made my sex life better. So, my advice? Do it when you’re ready, with whoever you feel comfortable with. That’s it! Don’t worry about societal expectations or pressure. It will feel best when you’re happy, because really, that’s all that matters.
How did you lose your virginity? Or how do you want to lose your virginity? What do you think about this story? Let us know in the comments.