I AM 26 years old and more or less a virgin . . .
I say more or less because I have been sexually active for five years now. In fact, I think I’m a bit of a slut.
The man I’m seeing – naked if I get the chance – just left my house.
I’m barely dressed, a little sweaty and sitting in my bed where smells of almost-sex still linger.
Yeah, the virgin-thing . . . it's a catch-22.
Being a virgin, technically, has been a very large thorn in my thigh. I’m convinced this is how you become a 40-year-old virgin.
My non-existent sex life has been the topic around the dinner table one too many time.
9 things you need to know about me
1. I never get involved with someone if I am not really into him.
2. This someone is always more experienced than I am. This comes with a natural tendency to mingle with extremely smart, well-travelled hippies and/or intellectuals. And they usually have boatloads of stories – which come with bigger boatloads of sexual partners. Bottom line: they've had sex before.
3. I only date one person at a time.
4. I am very much from a Calvinistic Christian household from the deep South African platteland.
5. In fact, in high school the other girls were convinced I had to be gay. How else could you explain me not hooking up with a boy before turning 18? My mom would very proudly announce to all her friends: “Luckily she’s a late bloomer”.
6. When I entered the world of kissing I didn’t crawl . . . oh no, I jumped right in. Right from the very first kiss I noticed that I quickly got uncomfortable staying clothed. And underwear?Seriously, who needs it?
7. The first guy I kissed was a German bloke (looking like a bit like Harry Potter, except he had square-shaped spectacles). Then tree dry years commenced. University went by without as much as a kiss on the cheek. Thank goodness the biggest hippy of them all knocked me off my feet and into a moonlit Bushveld pool. This led to a new wanting to make up for lost time.
8. One thing led to another and I ended up snogging (still clinging to my aversion toward clothes) a whole bunch of cool people. I got my heart broken a dozen times. But it was more or less like riding a bike. Except, in all fairness, I never actually climbed onto anything.
9. And then finally, at age 25, I met someone that I found compelling enough to actually want to sleep with.
A flamboyant American journalist.
I fell hard – he was smart, interesting, fun, intense, passionate and a social animal. How could I resist?
Right in the beginning of a very short and sweet romance something just budged, and …
I could see myself wanting to go further
Before meeting this bloke, flings have come and gone … and, I’ve discovered that merely fooling around was enough to keep me going. I’ve not been intentionally avoiding sex. My relationships just never evolved into the actual deed. Well – obviously I mean the big S.
Love making. Some horrible euphemism. Sex – People don’t say it often enough. It drives me nuts. I think that not saying sex enough just leads to the social problems nobody should actually be dealing with.
Anyway, the bit of innocence and inherent honesty left in me, led me to set the record straight with this man.
At this point we were in a foreign country, ambling back from the beach with enough palm trees to have a full blown coconut-war, and the sun setting behind us.
I reckoned, this was as good a time as ever to just say it.
“I’m a virgin.”
I remembered I blabbered on a bit, trying to conceal the blood creeping up my neck. I should have possibly broken the news before we set off on our ‘romantic’ tropical venture.
He was just surprised.
And then silence followed.
It might have been my imagination, but the air felt thick and the atmosphere almost had a bit of an ironic solemnity to it.
That night, was the only night where we had two separate beds. The rest of the week (our last week alone) we shared a bed – and for the first time ever, I hated my background.
Anyhow, I got dumped – I was (am) a virgin. So what?
I don’t think purely being a virgin and not having sex makes one innocent – least of all, makes one pure.
To be frank, if I argued my Christian background made me withhold sex right after I gave my guy a blowjob, I am obviously off my rocker. How is having someone’s dick in my mouth not invasive or personal? I can actually contract the odd sexually-transmitted disease this way.
If you are having oral sex, exploring the world of foreplay and masturbating (which, by the way, I think is quite normal) you are kidding yourself. Essentially your sex life (or lack thereof) is yours to explore. And whoever else you choose to include in this – of course.
I also practice a lot of sex. A few years ago my sister quite rightly aired her opinion: “It is not called oral kissing, is it?”
To be fair, I’m quite vanilla. No BDSM and ‘Unicorning’ for me – but I’m most definitely not daddy’s little angel.
Fact of the matter is, I’ve got a very keen interest in sex.
A guilty pleasure
I’m addicted to Dan Savage’s Lovecast [www.savagelove.com] Dan is my and possibly America’s favourite sex-columnist. Other than that, I’m not exactly super knowledgeable in sex-literature. I’ve not even bothered to read 50 Shades of Gray – to be honest. A guilty peek at the odd interesting article in the Cosmopolitan is about the height of my sexual sophistication.
Dan once received a call from a woman who Dan dubbed a CVS – a Christian Virgin Slut. I immediately wondered: “Is this me, is it a similar situation?”
About 10 seconds into the call I realised I might very well be a VCVS – a Vanilla Christian Virgin Slut. I draw the line way before anal sex. Not because I find it gross or anything – just because I find it really invasive. Anal sex is as upfront (back?) and personal as it gets. To me, it would mean moving from being Vanilla and toward the kink-community.
Look, my religious background has got very little to do with my erotic choices. But it definitely made me think twice about what I actually want.
My one friend keeps on telling me: “Dude, you need to get laid.” Recently he even handed me two condoms after we ended up on our stoep, having a nightcap after a ridiculously boozy afternoon.
He gave this to me for a damn good reason – remember the guy I had almost-sex with?
I adore him
He ticks all my boxes. He’s intense, he speaks a language I love and think in, he loves whiskey, he’s incredibly intelligent and when I see him undress I feel like I should savour the moment.
And press the pause-button
When we started hanging out (we don’t date, we just ‘hang’) he whispered something far too personal to share, but that made me realise – virginity is just not an issue any more.
We have been ‘hanging’ (on and off) for almost a year now. And a understanding and a kindness – quite a fondness, actually got entangled with our friendship that can’t be confined to a label.
Which leads me to believe that my background directed my choices …
Did my Christian upbringing influenced choices I made about my body? Maybe… initially. But I have always known that fooling around is very much sex.
But, I do think it boils down to a world where it is a good thing to be a late bloomer. I grew up in a world where people fall pregnant before they hit 16 – because people practise sex without saying it.
My poor mum would keep on blushing for a month – should she ever read this.
The only sex education I had was late-night movies, church camps (where a dominee held up a book with a pop-up penis at one occasion) and an Afrikaans book called ‘What girls should now’.
I was not confronted with sex. I felt my way around.
But, the same upbringing led me to believe that I am with more than having to sleep with someone – just to get it over and done with.
I want someone that I care about, and care back a little.
Someone that will understand why waiting so long has me feeling scared. And will deal with however my body reacts to it. It might very well be the Hollywood-moment you grow up to believe is reality.
But, the mirage could also shatter. And then, I need him to hold me. And not push me away. Even show me the ropes.
The man in my life is someone to whom my virginity is not an issue, and we have still not actually had penetrative sex.
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Why I hate it when you don’t say enough sex
The only thing I am non-vanilla about must be travelling. I go the whole nine yards. I practically get off on buying plane tickets. Due to some financial drawbacks (like being a mere mortal) I unfortunately don’t get enough action.
I recently visited a small town coastal town in India. Sex ain’t a word you can just bring up at dinner time conversation. Especially if you are 16 years old, unmarried and even worse … the caste system deems you to have the lowest (and poorest) status and standard of living a human being could have. Such a person is called an ‘untouchable’.
I was wandering around, very excited to be at the beach and the fact that I’m surrounded by prawn pink Europeans. The ‘pink ones’ were a good sign this time round. Usually, I just find these fair complexed ones fat and pink. This time they meant (thankfully) a less conservative dress code … At that point the sweltering heat had got to me.
They meant I didn’t have to dip into the ocean with my jeans and long sleeved top. Mercy! So, after spotting them sitting around I immediately set off to find me ventilated things to wear - and the smallest bikini I could lay my hands on.
This is where I made myself a friend. There we were, where she makes her living off pink people and myself, selling clothes she would never actually be able to wear without shame - trying to help me choose my shameful attire. She herself was dressed in a traditional (albeit conservative) bottle green suit with gold finishes. Her heals cracking open from walking barefoot.
We had a couple of laughs, I bought the goods. Back home, to my detriment, I realised everything looked like sacks on me. I rushed back to catch my new-found friend at her little shop. Suddenly I could sense – something was not right.
“Can I tell you something,” she asked me. “I can’t tell anyone. And you must promise – nobody here can ever know.
“I’ve made a mistake,” her voice suddenly broke off.
“I was just so happy with my boyfriend.”
She looked at me, looking desperate for someone to understand.
I realised how young this girl was.
“I went to the doctor today, he gave me pills… It will take my baby away. He said, I must take it tomorrow.”
That night I cradled a 16 year old girl with newfound womanhood.
This happened because sex is practiced without a word of advice. Without saying it out loud – in a community where rape is very common. Because speaking about it to someone else than your sexual partner is basically a mortal sin.
Quite frankly, this pisses me off.
For the sake of saying: And, I will say it again – I’m 26 years old. I’m a virgin and I like having sex.
** Footnote: With these words I eliminate my last hurdle in the way of the sex human kind commonly admits too.
VIRGIN( slut)
For my mother's sake I prefer not to reveal my identity
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