Look around your college classroom, spot the virgins.
See, this seems like a game until you skip over the girl with a short skirt and hair in front of her eyes because you heard last summer that she slept with like nineteen guys. You canāt see her hands, but theyāre under the table, pulling a rosary through her fingers as she tries to wash the sin off her. Sheās only ever kissed three people in her whole life and theyāre all girls. She turned down the wrong guy and he told everyone sheās āa whore.ā The label āslutā stuck to the bottom of her shoe and swallowed her up.
But that quiet girl who is always reading probably never touched someone elseās penis, you figure, because you donāt know that she goes home and strips down and pulls on tight black leather, you donāt know sheās got a set of whips that could make any set of knees quiver, you donāt know because sheās proud of what she does but sheās not stupid enough to let anyone know about it. Sheās sexy, just not here, not where people judge.
See, the truth is: you have no idea who has lost their virginity, because it doesnāt change you. It doesnāt give you some kind of glow or superpower or stamp on your forehead. You know the feeling of waking up on your birthday and thinking āI donāt feel any older whatsoeverā? Thatās what maybe theyāre all so afraid of you finding out: sex doesnāt change you. Sex doesnāt make you an animal, sex doesnāt suddenly make your relationship a million times more stable or intimate or romantic - it canāt fix whatās broken, although it can make the pain go away for a bit. Sex doesnāt really occur with eighty tea lights and a thick white rug. Sex is ugly and loud and frequently awkward, sex is excellent and breathtaking and when you wake up the next morning, youāre the exact same person. Thereās not some magical connection with the person in bed beside you. Believe it or not, pregnancy isnāt some kind of punishment - but practice safe sex, get tested, donāt spread your germs around. They want to tell you, āSex can ruin youā and Iāve heard that a lot as a little girl, that some boy would join me under my sheets and then dump me four days after, used, unhappy.
But I figured out that Iām not a fucking toy. Letting someone have sex with me is not letting them āuseā me, because Iām not an object. My father said the issue lay in the fact āMen are insecure and need to know that theyāre the best you ever had,ā but I think thatās a steaming crock of absolute-wrong and if I didnāt tell the people Iām with how many others Iād slept beside, there would be literally no way for them to know my number, because I donāt rust, I donāt wear out, I donāt get bruised. Iām not a wilting fruit, I donāt go rotten.
But hereās the thing: some people connect sex and emotion. I donāt personally because I am probably secretly an ice storm in disguise, but I still respect my partnerās desires. If theyāre the type to want love and sex to coincide, I let them. I donāt make fun, I donāt pull one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits, because itās not their āreputationā Iām afraid for: itās their heart Iām defending.
Hereās the thing: Instead of worrying about peopleās āpurityā and how it defines them as a person, worry instead about how you can protect other peopleās emotions.
Because hereās the thing: look around your room and spot the virgins. Look harder. You canāt tell. Sex doesnāt alter people, it doesnāt make them act in a certain way nor dress in a certain manner. Sex and personality have nothing to do with each other. Thereās a reason that virginity doesnāt show on someoneās face: because having sex doesnāt cause you to change.
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
kaledo-art
2087
turnnoffyourmind
