So you’re a college virgin…
Is this a huge deal? No. Is it a little unusual? Perhaps—but probably not as unusual as you think.
My two newest friends are attractive, charming, and completely functional – and they’re both my age (twenty-one) or older. I myself was a virgin until very recently. And I’m pretty sure waiting was one of the best decisions I ever made.
To be honest, it was actually more of a non-decision. I was a serious athlete from age sixteen until about a year ago, and I spent much of my time in a highly competitive, female-dominated environment. I was also home schooled during that time, so my dating prospects weren’t exactly a lush green pasture. But really—I just wasn’t that interested. I was focused on my athletic career, and before I knew it, I wound up a college virgin.
That said, I know I wouldn’t have been ready any earlier. Simple as that. The preconception that an older virgin must be either religious or hideously awkward is one that simply doesn’t hold water, and neither does the idea that “you should just get it over with, because it has to happen sometime.”
Before I had sex, I endlessly wondered – what is it going to be like? Will it be different because I waited? Ultimately, the answer to both was a resounding “yes.”
I had heard that sex could be awkward, funny, strange, exciting, or any other randomly chosen adjective. I was lucky enough to be able to file my first time under “amazing” – and I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that I waited longer than usual. Here’s the low-down on getting down as an older virgin, according to my own experience:
I felt comfortable with my body.
I’ve spent more years living in it. It’s grown on me. And this actually came as a big surprise. After I closed the book on my athletic career, I gained a considerable amount of weight, and I’ve always had a complicated relationship with food, my weight and my self-image. I imagined getting naked with someone would involve sheets and darkness and a limited view of the landscape for my partner. Nope. What it actually involved was broad daylight, no sheets, and not an iota of desire to hide. I’ve never felt more confident, natural, and relaxed. And, yeah—sexy.
I was more communicative and open about what I wanted.
I have a hard time saying anything I think might make someone feel uncomfortable. I’m the type of person who feels bad correcting someone who gets my name wrong, for Chrissakes. In bed, however, I had no problem communicating with my partner and telling/showing them what I liked and didn’t like.
Experimentation was the name of the game.
At sixteen I was awkward, self-conscious and mostly preoccupied with others’ opinion of me. All of this doesn’t exactly add up to an individual confident enough to explore what she actually wants, which is precisely what I am now, five years later. As a result, my first time was far from vanilla, let’s put it that way. If you had pulled some of the shit that I now like on me when I was sixteen, I would have called the police. Now? Bring it on.
It was satisfying in the way I’d often fantasized about but didn’t-dare-to-hope-was-actually-a-thing.
For me, partnered sex was fulfilling in a way that solo sex, great as it often is, can never be. If you’ve ever read any sexy or romantic ruminations on how good it feels to have a body pressed against yours, etc. … yeah, it was like that. Pretty cool, huh?
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