For much of my life, I've been calling myself a Proud Virgin, and it was utterly, completely true. I liked being a virgin, I planned to do it until I was married. I was, after all, not only asexual, but antisexual when I was thirteen and fourteen and fifteen and sixteen. All my friends were rushing into relationships, holding hands, kissing, groping, fingering, more and I was just firmly sitting on the sidelines, happy in my pretentious belief that one *really* didn't need sex to be happy, and throwing oneself away like that was just disgusting.
Even through my relationship with CrazyEx, where we were doing sexual things, I was still adamant in the fact that I was a virgin, and was planning to stay a virgin for a long time. Then, one day he called me on it. He said that, because of all the things we'd done, given each other orgasms curled up warm and naked in bed, he said he didn't think I was a virgin anymore. That I wasn't a virgin anymore.
(He later cited this as the turning point in our relationship, and it may well have been. I certainly was less inclined to sleep with him after that, distressed and hurt by his words and the shame of no longer being that which I so idolized. But that's somewhat of a different post.)
I was incredibly damaged by his words. Seventeen, maybe three months from turning eighteen, maybe five at that point, and this glorious beautiful ideal I had been holding for the last four years had just been torn from me. If I wasn't a virgin, I was clearly a slut, and I just couldn't deal with that. Not in application to me.
Fast forward two years. I'm nineteen now. I've become sexual, and in such a way that I can view it as natural, as something fun and worth doing and all those little reasons why people have sex in the first place. I still find the thought of thirteen and fourteen and fifteen and sixteen year olds having sex to be extremely frightening, but I no longer think of it with as much fervour and bile as I used to.
CrazyEx never took my virginity. I figured that out at some point --that he had absolutely no right to try and define who and what I was for me. That it was my job, and my choice to define myself, how I saw fit. We had sex, but he never deflowered me, we never had that last step between merely close and truly intimate.
Somewhere in the first six months of our relationship, I saw BelovedDude refer to herself as a nonvirgin in some meme or another. And that set me to thinking --of course she's not. If she's a lesbian (or a heterosexual male) and she's had sex with me, she has no reason to feel as though she's a virgin. Which would logically imply that I'm not a virgin either.
That realization didn't spook me nearly as much as CrazyEx's accusation. I still didn't feel like a nonvirgin, but at least I didn't feel the shame associated with the idea to nearly so much an extent. As 2008 went on, and I became more sexual, with more people and in more ways, my responses to people got more and more complicated.
"Well, yeah, I'm a virgin. My boyfriend and I have just kinda done everything but." This was later defined to me as a 'dirty virgin', a term I used for awhile, before finally dropping it.
Because honestly? I'm not a virgin anymore. I'm not pure, I'm not innocent, I'm not maidenly or unsoiled or any of that. I've never had a penis in my vagina, but I've had sex, fantastic, wonderful sex, with multiple people in multiple ways, and I've enjoyed it. I've actively sought it out. Forget the past tense, I do enjoy it, and I do actively seek it out.*
I suppose if anything, I'm closer to the traditional definition of a slut. And I'm okay with that.
I used to call myself a Proud Virgin. I think it's formally time to start calling myself a Proud Slut.
I feel it should be noted that the lack of PIV sex is not for lack of trying at the moment. Unfortunately for both of us, BelovedBoy's other girlfriend, GirlfriendInLaw, is having a particularly stressful semester at her school in another state, and, when he brought the topic up to her, said that she really didn't feel like she'd be able to handle both the fact that I get to see BelovedBoy more often than she does *and* have real live proper sex with him.
On the one hand, this really really pisses me off, because honestly? Sex is more than just sticking a penis in a vagina, and there are a good number of ways to do it that are just as beautiful and intimate and hot. Why should just that one be off-limits to me? But I do understand that it's a closeness thing, and a societal norm to be the most important and significant part of sex, and I can see where she's coming from with this. It's not like I was in any particular rush to have my cherry properly popped.
I will be *incredibly* amused though if BelovedDude gets ahold of that feeldoe she wants, and she gets to take my v-card before BelovedBoy ever does.
*I am not, however, having sex at the time of this writing. Unfortunately.