An American Virgin: Goddess or Circus Freak?

Virginity is a loaded topic in our culture, both for women and men. Only 11% of American women aged 20-24 are virgins, and that number goes down to 4% for ages 25-29. While a few women wear this badge proudly, and even try to get rich selling their maidenhead, most feel self-conscious and awkward about their lack of sexual experience. Indeed, many young women have sex with someone just to “get it over with.” The median age for girls is 17.4 years, and a significant number of those encounters occur outside the context of a serious relationship. Let’s face it, wearing the Scarlet Letter V in one’s 20s becomes a burden for women who have made this choice.

Today we have a guest post from one of those women. Jacqueline is a journalist in New York. She wrote to me recently asking for relationship advice, and this topic became central to our conversation. She has written a heartfelt and poignant account of her own experience, one that I think many of us can relate to, whether we’ve had sexual intercourse or not. I thank her for sharing herself generously with us in this way. Let her know what you think in the Comments section!

Jacqueline

True Life: I’m (Still) A Virgin.

by Jacqueline

“I used to think, I had the answers to everything,

But now I know, Life doesn’t always go my way, yeah…

Feels like I’m caught in the middle

That’s when I realize…

I’m not a girl, Not yet a woman.

All I need is time, A moment that is mine,

While I’m in between…”

Britney Spears, I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman

I know we should take most pop lyrics with the proverbial grain of salt, but I think Britney has really touched upon something profoundly real and poignant here: the complex transition from “girl” into “woman.”

Everyone has different standards for when a female officially transitions from girlhood to womanhood. For you, it may have been the day you bought your first training bra or had your first kiss. Maybe it was the moment you got your first period (my own mother wanted to throw me a party – the horror). Perhaps, it will be the day you finally marry, or have your first child…the list goes on and on.

To get technical for a moment, if I may, the definitions according to Merriam-Webster are as follows:

girl:

1. a female child from birth to adulthood

2. a young unmarried woman

woman:

1. an adult female person

2. distinctly feminine nature

Hmmm, interesting. And kind of vague. And kind of confusing.

In my opinion, a female can call herself one or the other whenever she feels confident enough to call herself one or the other. Sounds simple enough, but it’s actually quite complicated. Some females feel completely embarrassed wearing their first bras, and I’m sure many of you can relate to the fact that having a monthly lady cycle takes some getting used to. The complete and utter awkwardness of coming-of-age is hardly what comes to mind when one conjures up the image of a powerful, confident woman. Special circumstances also apply; there are females who can’t biologically have children, and tragically, it isn’t always a female’s decision when she loses her virginity.  It’s all very personal, so why do we often let society – including men (excuse me, but they don’t even have vaginas) – determine how we should or shouldn’t feel about our own sense of womanly being?

These days, my mind is totally preoccupied with one characteristic in particular that seems to straddle the worlds of Girldom and Womandom: Virginity.

Just last month, Tina Fey divulged on David Letterman that she lost her virginity (to her husband) at the age of 24:

“Couldn’t give it away,” Fey says with a sigh. “That’s just good Christian values, or, being homely.”

As much as I love Tina Fey and all of her brilliance, I was somewhat disappointed by her comment. I’m sure she meant no harm, and knowing her she was most likely trying to get a good laugh, but it only serves to reiterate a common stereotype. I mean honestly, does a 24-year-old virgin automatically have to be a homely reject? Or freakishly religious? Can’t she be smart and pretty (dare I say, even hot?) and simply choose to wait for her own reasons? I’ve never been a huge fan of Victoria’s Secret models, but I love what gorgeous Adriana Lima did for  virgins with her promise to abstain until marriage (at the age of 27). Many a straight guy’s dream, she did the unthinkable.

I am a virgin. A 24-year-old virgin.

No, I’m not a nun. And I’m not homely either. Actually, at the risk of sounding somewhat narcissistic, I think I’m quite attractive. So as you’d rightly guess, I’ve had ample opportunity to hook up with a stud or ten. A serial dater, I have no problem engaging in the occasional hot ‘n’ heavy makeout session. But no sex. Never sex. Here is my story.

When I was in my early teens, I made a commitment to True Love Waits, a nationwide Christian group that promotes abstinence until marriage. It became fixed in my mind that I was to remain a precious, untarnished gift for my future, gift-opening husband, and I truly cherished the thought. I couldn’t wait to have that magical night after my wedding. The blissful thought of it all remained with me for a decade, lasting through all the boys I ever dated, and staying strong despite all of the kisses, temptations, and co-ed sleepovers.

My longest relationship with a guy was during my senior year of college, and it lasted approximately six months. Far from being a virgin himself, he was willing to wait; so was Ted actually, and Brad, and Kody (in fact, Kody loved that I was waiting). As I explored dating, it appeared that guy after guy either understood or even preferred my decision to remain a virgin. I realize now that I was a tad spoiled by consistently coming across guys like these.

I’ve been out of college for several years now, and over the past few months I’ve been doing some thinking. It all started after I listened to a debate on NPR’s Intelligence Squared; there was an argument over society’s criticism of placing so much value and worth on female virginity. After some deep reflection, I got really angry. Actually, I was outright pissed. These days, sex and the hook-up culture are more pervasive than ever, and I realized that while I was waiting and keeping myself “pure,” my future husband was most likely not doing the same thing. If my future dreamboat wasn’t contributing to my fantasy of what our wedding night would be, why should I? As Jessica Valenti (a feminist writer) vents in her book, The Purity Myth: How America’s Obsession with Virginity Is Hurting Young Women: “If I am not to be ‘damaged goods,’ then I certainly don’t want to marry a ‘goods damager.’”

The familiar double standard argument is aggravating, but it still rings true in situations like these. Above all, my problem with the whole scenario is this: I’m sitting here in my mid-20’s, feeling not only frustrated and restless, but missing out on experiences I know would make me grow as a person (and as a woman), and be a bit more in step with the rest of society, more in tune with conversations and thoughts and opinions around me. Enough with living vicariously through other people. I want to grow. I want to fully experience people. I want passion and knowledge too, dammit!

In the past, I have staunchly defended my position to wait. Many of my girlfriends were treated terribly after losing it in high school or college to sleazebags. They were dumped or subsequently ignored after the guy got what he wanted, and one good friend was even left to take care of the abortion while her so-called boyfriend went on a family trip. As badly as I felt for them, I hated that many of these girls felt it was okay to project their guilt and regret onto me, and ridicule my beliefs.  My closest friends would frequently harp on my vow of chastity, saying things like, “The sex will turn out to be horrible, and you’ll just end up getting a divorce!” Now, I love Sex and the City just as much as the next girl, but Charlotte and Trey’s messy split after he turned out to be impotent always made my battle in these debates a losing one. I understand the importance of sexual chemistry, trust me, but I wasn’t judging them for their choices, so why were they judging me for mine?

It eventually got to the point where I was defending myself so frequently and forcefully that I deemed the only way to protect myself and keep my strong beliefs from faltering was to get self-righteous about it. So I stepped up onto my high horse. I had waited and had no regrets about doing so; if people were envious of my self-control, great. Maybe then they’d stop yelling at me already.

Recently, although I was still riding that high horse, I started to reconsider: What if I do it with someone I’m in love with before getting married? To be clear, I still think it’s a nice idea to wait, and will always think so. There’s something to be said for having the patience and willpower to consciously exclude yourself from potentially devastating heartbreak and emotional co-dependency.

However, I slowly began to shed the pending guilt I believed I would inevitably feel if I did have sex before marriage. I knew God wouldn’t love me any less. My family would still love me, as would my friends. But the real question was this: would I still love me?  That’s where my head was until recently, when I met a boy. A boy who was truly the first to make me totally, completely, and hopelessly smitten.

Benjamin and I met and went on three dates in just seven days. They were all wonderful and lovely – straight out of a movie. Perfect conversation, perfect manners (on his end), perfect venues, and we shut down each place we went to with our five-hour-long dates. I was officially obsessed after our first kiss (at the end of our second date), and more notably, I let myself obsess. For the first time, I allowed myself to run crazy with infatuation. And he liked me too. We had mutual friends, common interests, a shared sense of humor. We talked politics, relationships, hobbies, and family. We made plans to go hiking, see this movie, go to that club, etc. It was a dream.

I had no desire to control myself or pay attention to some of the red flags I noticed with Benjamin (there were a few). Then on our third date, we started talking about our past relationships and sexual histories, and the topic of virginity came up. I asked point-blank if he thought virginity was weird. He paused, looked at me, and asked, “Wait. Are you a virgin?” Already, he had an incredulous look on his face, as though merely asking the question was an anomaly in and of itself. Granted, he was born and raised in Manhattan, a fast-paced world in which many privileged children, often left to their own devices and unlimited funding, grow up much quicker than the rest of us. He had his first fake ID when he was around 13. What was I doing when I was 13? Errr… taking a vow of abstinence.

I considered lying, but decided to tell him the truth, and to make a long story short, he freaked. Very subtly, but I can recognize a good old-fashioned freakout when I see one. And since he freaked out, I freaked out. Freaked out so much I fell right off my high horse and landed splat onto my face. Completely gone were my firm standings and beliefs. They were suddenly replaced with thoughts like these: Does this mean he doesn’t want to go to yoga class with me anymore? Should I tell him I could possibly do it with him soon if we date for a few weeks? Is dangling the promise of sex just way too tacky?

I suddenly felt Benjamin distance himself, creating an immediate shift between us that he tried to remedy with cuddles and hair-playing and kisses. It didn’t work. I sincerely do not remember the last time I ever felt so self-conscious. In a span of about eight seconds, I had turned from feeling like a goddess to a circus freak. He kept mumbling under his breath with a perplexed and fascinated shake of his head: “That is so interesting. Now I get it…” Umm, get what? Don’t you psychoanalyze me!

Benjamin’s silent judgment doesn’t make me want to lose my virginity because I’m afraid of shocked reactions – I’ve known too many good guys to be so easily swayed. But it did force me to ask myself a very simple but thought-provoking question: Why not have sex? To continue with the metaphor, Benjamin spooked me off my horse and threw me off my stagnant trail – a trail I no longer knew or was aware of. I needed to fall off, and to reevaluate my choices. I was putting so much pressure on myself around my virginity, but I no longer knew why.

It was necessary for me to fall off that horse and have some time to rub my injured bottom (uhh…ego). I learned that I am not unshakeable, nor are my values. Beliefs don’t have to be set in stone, and if they’re modified, who’s to say that’s not okay? As Susan so wonderfully summed up the two constant rules of life in another post, “Everything changes, and, you will be surprised.”

Now I’m looking forward to losing my virginity to someone I love. I’m ready, which doesn’t mean that I’ve finally got that month’s supply of birth control, the pack of Trojans in my purse, or the beautiful La Perla matching lace bra-and-panty set. It means I know that afterwards, I won’t be consumed with guilt or fear or regret. When I was younger, I knew that regardless of whom I did it with, I would be destroyed: if it were with someone I cared for, I’d automatically detest him for taking something I wasn’t ready to have taken; if it were with someone I didn’t care about, I could never forgive myself. I have not one regret about waiting this long. My timing is right, and it finally feels good, for me. Perhaps at 24 I am somewhat of a late bloomer, but I find no shame in that. And if you are in a similar situation, you shouldn’t either.

Benjamin didn’t call me again after that conversation, yet I don’t hate him. I think he has some growing up to do, but I’ve also learned this: everyone is different, and believes in different things – based on how they grew up, what kind of parents raised them, what kind of friends they hung out with, etc. Socioeconomic, political, and religious factors all play a part as well. Let’s face the facts: Every single one of us is ignorant about something. It is literally impossible to be tolerant and familiar with everything and everyone. We’re human. We judge. No one is immune.

Benjamin might have thought my lack of sexual experience was weird, but I thought it was weird that he once “fooled around” with a stripper. I suspect that now he sees me in his mind as the abnormal lunatic chick with the inexplicable sociosexual disorder. Too bad for him.

I may change my mind tomorrow, next week, or when I’m 30 years old about how and when I want to lose my virginity. I might even revert back to my original decision and choose to abstain until my wedding night.

Truth be told, I don’t know yet whether I feel more like a girl, or a woman.

But I do know this: It’s not up to anyone else but me to decide.

Related posts:

1. Why Are American Men Sexually Insecure?
2. Brilliant Dating Advice From a Dead Virgin
3. Swiping the V-Card