Today we're highlighting Andrea in Florida, who always makes sure to thank her sexual partners. If you want to tell your story, go to our submission form. You can find all our V-Card Diaries here. Tell us about yourself:
My name is Andrea. I am a 23-year-old female who resides in the sunny state of Florida. I love pineapples, oranges, palm trees, and a cold beer after work.
How do you define virginity?
Virginity is such an archaic term. I deplore it.
Virginity, to me, used to be the simple act of engaging in sexual intercourse for the first time.
Today, after having had multiple partners and experiences, I would say that there are multiple types of virginities, because there are different types of sexual acts. I have also come to believe that, emotionally speaking, you don't necessarily have to lose your virginity the first time you have sex. I have also come to believe that virginity is not a one-fits-all term.
Tell us your story
I grew up in a very religious Christian household. I was taught, since birth, that sex was only to be had within the institution of marriage. Sex was a sacred act, to be had only between a man and a woman, who had decided to be together for the rest of their lives. Sex was meant to be for pleasure and procreation, and was inherently good, so long as it only occurred between a married man and woman.
At 15 years old I decided that I didn't buy into that story. I decided that making out felt good and sex would feel better. I was curious and set about keeping my eyes open for a candidate with whom I would lose my virginity. Then, my sophomore year in high school, I met a boy who was slightly older than me. He was attractive and "experienced."
After discovering he had an on-and-off girlfriend (more on than off), I decided he would be the perfect candidate. I had multiple extracurricular activities, AP classes, and an SAT study course. I had no time for a relationship; nor was I interested in a heartbreak. His lack of commitment was exactly what I was looking for in a candidate.
One Saturday morning he came over my house and we proceeded to have sex. It didn't hurt like I had been told it would. It wasn't awkward. I didn't bleed. I didn't enjoy it so much as I enjoyed oral sex. It was... simply sex. He knew what he was doing and he helped me relax. He was polite and careful. He kissed my forehead after we were done and he told me he loved me before he left. I thanked him for the experience. Ever since then, I have always thanked my sexual partners; even the ones with whom I am in a committed relationship.
After months of casual sex and friendship, my 'first time' and I began to date. I fell in love with that boy, even though I had planned not to do just that. And we dated for three years altogether. He remained my best friend for a long time after we broke up. That is no longer the case.
My first time was neither romantic nor memorable. In fact, I don't remember it very well. It's mostly just a blur. I remember that it was summer, it was sunny outside, and I was wearing purple underwear. He was wearing Giorgio Armani cologne.