I was never given a proper sex talk when I was growing up. My mother was old-fashioned and never really liked to talk about anything she deemed immodest. When I first started menstruating, she handed me a book and said that it would tell me everything I needed to know about what was happening to my body. It did tell me everything, but it didn’t tell me how to deal with all the emotions it would bring. I had an idea of what sex was because my friends had “trash mouths” as I would call it, but not enough to be informed. I had heard about it, but never exactly seen it. My understanding of sex was naive, to say the least.
I had my first sexual encounter when was fourteen. Rather young, I’ll admit, and extremely idiotic. Guys know how to say things that all girls want to hear. I really didn’t know anything, but of course, when a guy makes you feel good about yourself you’ll do anything. Ken was the one who persuaded me. He showed me different ways certain sexual acts occur and I aimlessly tried my best to do what he suggested. He put up with my cluelessness. Embarrassed by incompetence, I vowed never to do anything like that again unless I ready and had a basic understanding .
In high school, my best friends were very sexually active. One of my friends, Meep used to skip the one class we had together to have sex with her unrelenting boyfriend. “If anyone asks, I went home sick.” she’d tell me. Her grades began to suffer. When her dad found out about her cutting class he grounded her for two months. She wasn’t allowed to leave, visit friends or have anyone over. She started sneaking out of the house at night to meet up with her boyfriend. My other friend, Bee was very experimental. Always finding creative and elusive ways satisfy her craving for the opposite sex. I learned a lot from her. Especially when she found out she would be a teen mom. We were always warned that sex can lead to pregnancy, but never thought it actually happen to one of us. The parenting class my high school offered almost glorified it. I grew envious of my friends’ experiences with sex and I too wanted to feel what they had felt, but I was under the impression that I should wait to be with someone I truly loved.
At the start of college I started talking to B. I was eighteen. At first, I never really expected anything out of our relationship. He was very respectful of my wishes and always made me feel as though I was in control. One night, B and I were driving around the city, talking and laughing. It was when we began to really understand each other. I felt close to him. “I think we should have sex,” I said quickly. He looked at me, slightly puzzled. His silence felt like a “no,” but when he finally spoke he hesitantly said, “Well, um. Okay.”
There was no planning, no candles, no rose petals or mood music. Just pure and spontaneous. I had heard so many stories about the first time. That it would hurt, that I would bleed, or that it wouldn’t feel as good the first time. The opposite happened actually. Why was I protecting my virginity like it was the heavily guarded Hope Diamond? Wanting to wait for the perfect time to share this supposed gift with someone was genuinely stressing me out. All the stories I had heard about committing the act actually scared me. Discarding my virginity like a piece of trash was probably one of the best decisions I had ever made. It helped me take control of my life.
I could have waited, but honestly waiting would have made me miss out on my different opportunities to explore. To find out what I like. I don’t regret my hasty decision. It helped me regain my confidence.
I was inspired by Searching for Fai’s post about her brief encounter with a girl whom she envied for her experiences with men. Her lack of experience reminded me of myself. You can read more about it here.