I am 28 years old and I am a virgin. People assume a series of decisions led to this. They guess that I'm a closet lesbian, or too picky, or clinging to a religious ideal. "You don't look, talk, or act like a virgin," they say. For lack of a better explanation, I am pigeonholed as a prude or an  unfortunate. If it's so hard to believe, I want to say, then imagine how hard it is for me to live with.
I feel freakish and alien, an anomaly that belongs in a zoo. I walk around feeling like an impostor, not a woman at all. I bleed like other women, yet I feel nothing like them, because I am missing this formative experience.
I won't deny that I have become attached to my innocence. If it defines me, who am I without it? Where will my drive come from and what will protect me from becoming as jaded as everyone else? I try to tell myself that innocence is more a state of mind than body. That giving myself to a man doesn't mean losing myself to a cynical world. That my innocence doesn't hang by a scrap of skin between my legs.
In college, girls I knew lost it out of impatience. At 21, virginity became unhealthy, embarrassing -- a female humiliation they could no longer be burdened by. Some didn't tell the boy.If there was blood they said it was their period. I cannot imagine. Some of those same boys thought it was appalling, years ago, that I was still a virgin. "I'll fuck you," they said. It sounded to me like, "I'll fix you," and I did not feel broken.
I don't believe I've consciously avoided sex. I am always on the verge of wholly giving myself away. I think emotionally, act intuitively. When I'm attracted to someone I don't hold back. But there have been only a handful of times when I would have gladly had sex. Each, for its own reason, did not happen. I am grateful to have learned so much in the waiting: patience, strength,and ease with solitude.
Do you know what conclusion I've come to? That there is no concrete explanation, and more importantly, there doesn't need to be one. How I got here seems less important to me than where I am. 
This is what is important. Desire. The circle of my desire widens each day, so that it's no longer contained inside me, but rather, it surrounds me in concentric circles.
Desire overrides everything and should be exploited to its fullest potential. It is the white-hot space between the words. I am desire unfulfilled. I hover over that fiery space feeling the heat without knowing the flames. I am a still-life dreaming of animation. I am a bell not allowed to chime. There is a deep stillness inside me. There is a void. A huge part of me is dead to the world no matter how hard I try to revive it with consoling words or my own brave hand.
I am sick of being sealed up like a grave. I want to be unearthed.
I pray for sex like the pious pray for salvation. I am dying to be physically opened up and exposed. I want to be the source of a man's pleasure. I want to give him that one perfect feeling. I have been my only pleasure for too long.
Do I have dreams about sex? Often. There is one recurring dream in which I can't see whole bodies at once. But I know which parts belong to my body. I know they're mine. I know, better than anyone, my curves, my markings, my sensitive places. If I close my eyes now, I can see the man's body. Thin, smooth, light-haired, limbs spreading and shifting over me like the sea. A small,brick-colored mouth opens and closes around the sphere of a nipple. Moist eyes, the color of darkest honey, roam up and down my spine. A sensation of breath across my belly induces the first wave of moisture between my legs. This reaction crosses the line into wakefulness, and I know when I awaken,the blanket will be twisted aside as if in pain. My skin itself will feel like a fiery blanket, and I will almost feel smothered by it.
In some versions of the dream I am on top and I can feel my pelvis rubbing against the man's body. Every part of my body is focused on the singular task of getting him inside me. I try and try and am so close, but my fate is that of Tantalus who was surrounded by water he could not drink. Thank God for masturbation.
My fingers know exactly how to act upon my skin -- they have for over half my life now.  There is no fear or hesitation. When I masturbate I am aware of varying degrees of heat throughout my body. It is hottest between my legs. Cool air seems to heat the moment it hits my skin, the moment I suck it in between my lips. After, my hands shake as if I'd had an infusion of caffeine. I press my hand, palm down, in the vale between my breasts, and it feels as if my heart will burst through my hand. I love that feeling -- knowing that I'm illimitably alive.
Though I've never had a man inside me, I have had many orgasms. I have talked with girls who not only can't have one with their lover but can't bring themselves to have one. I was shocked at first until I saw how common it was. And then I felt lucky. My first one scared me. At 12, I did not expect such a reaction to my own touch; I thought I'd hurt myself. But it was such a curious feeling, such a lovely feeling, that I had to explore it further. I felt almost greedy. And well, I got better at it until it was ridiculously easy. Still, it is always easy.
I don't expect it to be so easy with a man. I've come to believe that sex is defined by affection, not orgasm. There is that need to be held that doesn't disappear when we learn to walk on our own. If anything, it intensifies.
I love being a girl. I think of my body as all scent and soft muscle. It is an imperfect body, but beautiful still, in its energy and in its potential. I love looking at my curves in the mirror. I love feeling them and admiring their craftsmanship. I love my hipbones -- small, protruding mountains. Or maybe they are like sacred stones marking the entrance to a secret city. I  trace the slope of my calf as if a slender tree trunk and I am amazed at how strong, yet vulnerable,the human body is. I am as in awe of my body as I am of the earth. My joints are prominent as if asserting themselves. I know my terrain well, perhaps better than any man ever could -- the warm,white softness of my inner arms; the hard, smooth muscle of my bicep like the rounded swelling in a snake that just swallowed the tiniest mouse; the sensitive skin between my thighs; the mole on my pelvis nestled by a vein like a dot on a map marking a city beside a river. I have stared at my naked body in the mirror wondering what the first touch from a lover will feel like and where it will be.
Masturbation is pleasurable, but it cannot sustain a whole sexual life. It lacks that vital affection. I am left with the rituals, the mechanics of masturbation. I crash up against the same wall each time. It becomes boring and sad and does little to quell the need to be touched. I long to let go of my body's silent monologue and enter into a dialogue of skin, muscle, and bone.
There are sudden passions that form in my mind when I look at a man. Thoughts of things I want to do to him. I want to follow the veins of his wrists -- blue like the heart of a candle flame. I want to lick the depression of his neck as if it were the bottom of a bowl. I want to see the death of my modesty in his eyes. Although I am swollen with romantic ideas, I am not naïve. I know it will not be ideal. Rather, it will be painful, awkward, damp, and dreadful -- but that is always the way of birth. It is an act of violence. The threat of pain in pleasure, after all, makes seduction stimulating. I want the pain in order to know that I am alive and real -- to leave no doubt there has been a transformation.
The fear is undeniable. It's a phobic yearning I have for a man's body, but I have to believe that everything, including fear, is vital when expressing desire. If sexual thoughts are either memories or desires, then I am all desires.
I am powerfully attracted to the male body. I want to watch him undress. See him touch  himself. I want his wildness in me -- I want to touch his naked body and feel the strength of him. His sweat sliding down the slick surface of my skin until it pools in the crooks of my limbs. I imagine the rhythm of our sex like the slick, undulating motion of swimmers. I imagine my own body's movements suddenly made new, so that we would appear to me like two new bodies. I imagine the sound of our sex -- a magnificent, moist clamor of limbs.
I want to hold him inside me like a deep breath. I want to leave kisses as markers on the sharp slices of his shoulder blades, then surrounding the oasis of his bellybutton. I want to slide him in my mouth like a first taste of wine, letting the bittersweet liquid sweep every part of my mouth before allowing it to slide down my throat.
I will hold my mouth to his ear, as if I were a polished seashell, so he can hear the sea inside me -- welcoming him. I will pause and look at him -- up into his face. I will steady myself in his gaze, catch the low sun of his cock between my smooth, white thighs, and explode into shine.I will look at him and think, I have spent this man's body and I have spent it well. n°
©1999 Debra Boxer and Nerve.com
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Commentarium (38 Comments)
Beautiful.
This was a very emotional piece for me in that it brought back many memories of when I faced the same battle. For me, it took finding what it was I subconsciously wanted . . . and knowing it wasn't a temporary get-me-through-the-night. It took a lot of soul-seaching and failed relationships to find the man that was what I desired. He knew from the beginning what it was I sought . . . but didn't rush me. I found extreme happiness in submitting all that I am to him. In case you are wondering: yes, I mean I became his submissive. He took me for what I am: a person of deep emotions with a temper and a will to scratch the eyes out of any would-be attacker. He, in the true sense of the word, mastered my spirit; he allowed me to be who I was yet demanded my full attention . . . which I freely give. Perhaps the author of the piece will find what she seeks . . . I am not saying she will find her peace through submission, but perhaps through continued soul-searching she can find what it is she truly wants and find that piece that was missing in the men she knew before. Happily collared til the end of time, in bonds stronger than those of marriage,
"Innocence in Extremis" is the sexiest, most passionate piece of erotic writing I have ever read by a woman, and I've read a lot. Not to mention being remarkably perceptive. There are things in there it took me years of lovemaking to learn. (Is this woman really a virgin?) My immediate reaction to the article was to wonder whether she was free Saturday night, but I'll content myself with a few comments: Experience does not mean much in determining the kind of lover a woman is. As a man, I've come to feel that the critical dimension of sex for a woman is discovering and learning how to express her own passion; based on her writing, she is already further advanced in that area than many women ever become. One day she will be grateful for her long wait -- not because of any silly beliefs about the sanctity of virginity, but because those many nights alone taught her the real nature of lust, taught her not to take sex for granted and gave her the ability to see it as the spectacular gift that it is. The first time does not have to be "awkward, damp, and dreadful" (although it may have to be damp -- good sex always is), unless she makes the mistake of having it with someone she does not trust and is not comfortable with. Sex comes naturally, like language to a young child. It really is like a language, too -- it is silly to focus on the first word you say, instead of how you use it and what you say with it throughout your life.
Nice writing, but you're making too much of sex. Sex is great, but it's just sex. What you don't address is the man/men you're not doing it with. What kind of relationships have you had (and not had) to arrive at this point? Stop thinking about "the male body" and start thinking about real people. Sex will happen before you know it.
Debora Boxer seems to have been born with the knowledge of a profound truth that so many of us humans take half a liftime to learn. Life is best when allowed to flow over us as we do as little to disturb the currents as our instincts will allow. Her writing is superb. I am not an expert in English literature, but her story left me with the profound belief that the man who earns her trust and becomes her "first" will know what it is like to lose their virginity in a way they never thought possible. They will have discovered the difference between having sex and making love. Ms. Boxer, I thank you for letting me know you are alive, and I believe the world a better place.
Wow. I can only hope that when I finally meet that person that I've been waiting for (I'm not a virgin but it has been four years since I last fell in love), she can be half as erotic and romantic and sensaul as Ms. Boxer is in her essay. This is a wonderful piece of writing, made moreso by its first person nature. I look forward to reading more by Ms. Boxer. Tell her if she is ever in Ohio, I would love to hear the sound of her sea.
The Boxer piece is a deliciously tragic example of fuzzy girlish thinking. The imagined sex is always tasteful, with butterflies gently coming to rest on glowing summer fruit. The emotional perfection of these scenarios invokes the sadder meanings of "precious": a matter so very important that one demands others care even more than does oneself. Nonetheless, thirteen of twenty-four paragraphs begin with the first person singular, and the word "I" appears one hundred and ten times . . . Yep, "the fear is undeniable." Preciousness is as risky a sport as any. A year ago, a fellow my age (mid-30's) told of his virginity, and how he hopes that when he finally meets the Christian woman of his dreams, "I think she'll be grateful that I waited, don't you?" When we met again at Christmas, he reported the onset of diabetes. Knowing how impotence so often attends this condition, my heart broke for him. Life is for the living.
Ms. Boxer tacitly acknowledges that many women's first intercourse is short, messy and painful, then turns around and engages in a fantasy that makes it sound easy and perfect. It probably won't be either. I've asked female friends who were very honest about sex what I could do to make it better for my girlfriend the first time, and they were frank that the first actual intercourse will not be anywhere near perfect, even under the best of circumstances. The best thing that I can do is be slow, gentle and well-lubricated. In any event, the social commentary seems to be in accordance with my own observations, and therefore equally applicable to both sexes. However, her anticipation of primas coitus is probably too idealistic.
The article by Boxer on her virginity is complex, sweet, potentially disturbing, candid and sexy. I'm a female who enjoys the male body much, so I can relate to her particular fantasies. A couple questions I have for her. So, Debra, why does it have to hurt to have sex? I mean you certainly have the option of creating your own version of rough pleasure, but this is not a prereq. to all sex. I'm sure you've used a tampon or sent something into your nether regions while masturbating, so your hymen has been broken. If you're hot and wet enough your passageways are fully capable of accepting or pushing out quite sizeable objects, whether they be a dick, dildo, giant carrot, whatever. Most of those women you bring up who experienced bleeding during their initiation into the world of copulation were probably not very in touch with what made them get hot and therefore were not aroused and wet enough to accept the kind of aggressive friction that goes along with encouraging the male penis to squirt. Have no fear, my dear. Based on what I gather from your article you are in touch enough with your own landscape so as to help guide a man through it successfully. Here's another important truth: the best bedpartners I've ever had are merited so mostly because they have enjoyed my pleasure. There are men out there who I'm sure would love to watch you get yourself off, and be shown exactly what you need in order to be wholly fullfilled in every gushing way without one ounce of pain (though it sounds like you have some mild pain fantasies as well, and that's cool too). As long as you establish trust with your potential lovers, I believe your limits are quite boundless in where you can go. Good luck to you, sister. I'm sure the First Initiate Lucky Guy will be grateful for all of your bounty. And remember, it's yours to share with whom you please; you're not "losing" anything. Your eros is yours forever, along with your heart, your blood, your moles, etc. You Go Girl.
Wow! This writing amazes me. Believing the statement "I am a virgin" and reading her description of lovemaking . . . my, what a loving imagination! And what a contradiction . . . a virgin in name only. The idea of desire consuming and widening and defining her life -- I will carry that around with me.
No one's imagination is that strong, that perfect. She must have completed the deed.
Beautiful words. It's unfortunate that you have not found a man with whom to experience your fantasies. "Too picky" isn't appropriate. Either someone is right or they aren't. Even when you think they are the right one you will often find imperfections that make you wonder if your standards weren't high enough. We live in an imperfect world.
Hats off to Debra Boxer! I have NEVER read anything as beautiful, as poignant and as literate as Boxer's "Innocence in Extremis"! "Wow" is all I can say! As a divorced man, I feel that I have yet to meet a "real" woman. All my shattered dreams of meeting (let alone having sex with!) an enchanting, mysterious and divine feminine mind wrapped in a virgin body will now come back to haunt me once again . . . thanks to Ms. Boxer! Perhaps, there is hope after all. But, I could only hope to re-incarnate myself to be WORTHY of meeting such a soul, if ever! At least I hope I can forever dream of Ms. Boxer's virgin in my vastly imaginative mind and create a "man" in me who could conquer the virgin's soul and peel off the innocence hanging by the scrap of her skin! Thank you Nerve, for providing me the opportunity to taste the nectar of Ms. Boxer's literate mind!
Your innocence is as sweet as a sandcastle before the tide. Being male, I'm thrown back and forth between extreme sexual thoughts of solving this "problem" for you and a tender smile as if I were looking at my daughter. You're creating a cocoon of pure beauty in which no reality fits. Reality sucks, they say, and to some degree it does. Most things just happen, like having sex when you're twelve years old. I mean, life is not something you can control, although we try. But you, staying out of life in a way, can keep things "in control." That's beautiful, naive and I thank you for the words in Nerve.
I read about Nerve first, ironically, in print, in an old Time Magazine article. You've got some spectacular writing -- and like the cover page said, it ain't porn. Debra Boxer's piece about the bittersweet tradeoffs of "advanced-age virgins" is incredibly powerful. It's light years better than Tara McCarthy's overeducated Harvard claptrap at book length, Been There, Haven't Done That: A Virgin's Memoir, which definitely doesn't deserve a recommended URL In fact, puffery-piece Kirkus Reviews even said: ". . . this time you're subjected to a monologue by the most insufferably smug and egotistical girl in your class. And worse still, this self-appointed expert in puerile love is a virgin -- and proud of the fact -- at the ripe old age of 25." Which is all the more testament to Debra's piece. Sex is at the root of far too much extraordinarily unsexy prose. In the final analysis, I was (ahem) touched by her words on the meaning of touch, as opposed to sex.
During my first visit to the literary collection of Nerve, I was impressed by this short work. The writing is fresh. I kept reading the story not for the topic, but for the illumination of the inner being of the author. Thank you!
You have got some nerve! How the hell can Debra Boxer know anything about sex, let alone write about it, if all she has ever done is read about it! Your site gives sex a bad name! Your writers and other contributors strike me as frigid. Please keep your genitals to yourselves. Others do not need to be bored by your dry, two-dimensional fantasies. Join the human race and have some real sex. Maybe you won't have to work so hard to be "risque"!
The best article about the yearning to lose one's virginity I've ever read. Brought back a lot of memories, couched in gorgeous prose. "I want to see the death of my modesty in his eyes" -- a wonderful turn of phrase! Everyone should be so fortunate to know their own desires so well before taking their first lover.
I'm twenty-three, a virgin, boy, college graduate. I feel like I've gone to an extreme to prove to people that they are safe with me because I don't hit on them, yet I still am human enough to have hormonal instincts. I feel confident about myself after reading her words, and I am in no rush to have sex, unless it naturally progresses with someone. I feel better about myself after reading this.
I just wanted to respond to Deborah's article because I feel a kinship with her (though I am male and 25, not 28) because I too feel old for a virgin. I feel those desires, and the wish to be touched but have not been yet. I'm working on understanding myself and changing to what I think I want to be (figuring that out as I go) without compromising my essential self. I've been told that old virgins aren't as uncommon as I had thought (I still feel like I'm a complete oddball), but that doesn't comfort as much as I would hope.
As a man. I was moved by your essay (being unattached at the moment, the essay resonates). Too often, sex and virginity are taken lightly, yet I've discovered from a former lover the mystique, power, and feeling of being fused with my lover in mind and body. Lingering inside her, our scents mingling, small aftershocks, our bodies radiating heat, and feeling like we're connected so closely that, for an instant, we're one. So, after reading this, you might ask why remain a virgin. Because, adding the dimension of love (whatever that means to you) makes it an act of ultimate connection. I speak from the almost-but-not-quite-fulfilling number of times that I had sex with a woman that I liked. I often think of description of the libido as the stomach is described in "Cancer Ward," i.e. a rascal sated for the moment but never appreciative of what happened yesterday. Some of us men want to know every inch of our lover: to consume her with our eyes, mouths, pricks, and minds. Thanks for your eloquence.
I guess that because she is in the "Reader's Favorites" section, you are probably aware of how great Debra Boxer's piece, "Innocence in Extremis," truly is. I smiled, I cried, and I felt better. There are very few times that I've felt that someone else understood how I feel. There have only been two other times: at age 15, when I read an "It Happened to Me" column in Sassy magazine about a 19 year old girl who had never been kissed, and a few years later when I learned about the Involuntary Celibacy project from bust.com. You see, I'm 20. I seem like a normal college English major who is on the cerebral side and reads a lot of feminist lit. I have great friends. I'm reasonably attractive. I am just another girl at that party every weekend or in someone's Religion class. Most people probably don't even consider that I could be a virgin. And yet my first kiss was at the age of 18 and two years later, I'm in almost the same place. I admire Debra Boxer's ability to speak out, and to truly accept herself. Because deep down, I know that's what is most important. I've been through the same stages: anger, denial, self-loathing, pride, jealousy, irrational anger, etc., etc. I cannot even tell you exactly how I feel now because I don't know. Maybe I will have sex by the time I'm 30. God, I hope so. But thank you. Thank you so much for saying it.
This Is so beautifully written! I Lost my virginity a few days before my 26th birthday. It was a painful and bloody quick experience. I felt the need to be relieved of my burden. The description of being an ailen is so painfully accurate.
I have been checking periodically over the past ... gosh, it might be close to two years already ... to see if there was any update on Debra. Has her circle of desire closed, so to speak? Has she turned 30 yet? Is there a follow-up article?
as a 29 year old virgin, I have just read my manifesto, and possibly have met my alter-ego. Ms. Boxer has tapped EXACTLY what all late to the party virgins feel. The printer is spitting out these pages, so that I may show someone what it is to be me: the self knowlege, the desire, and the fear too. thank you does not seem like enough, but it will have to do for now. thank you debra. thank you telling the world exactly how it is! bless you!
I just got done reading this piece, and found myself nodding in agreement with many passages. I'm a 25 yr old virgin and I know what Ms. Boxer went through. I have fooled around with men but have yet to find anybody who's "worthy". And when I tell men that's what I'm waiting for, someone "worthy", they tell me they aren't it. Fine, I've been waiting for twenty-five years for someone special. I can keep waiting until I find someone I can trust, someone I like, someone I'm attracted to, and who will trust, like, and be attracted to me in return.
debra boxer: a very compelling article.
I identified with much of it.
how about a dialogue?
mad_programmer@yahoo.com
Have you been to Milwaukee, lately? Plan on coming back? Contact me.
this article has been online forever ... where's an update???
i feel we need to talk
1/17/01
you're feelings are so familiar debbie. i remember feeling like the last virgin. my catholicism was a comforting chastity belt. a badge of honor that pinched!
i now recognize that i held the key to my freedom/fulfillment. nothing ventured/nothing gained. sex wasn't the savior, though. overcoming fear and taking that step into oblivion nurtured my soul. the monkey that was off my back wasn't my virginity, it was my fear. i still have fear, but now i have the confidence to try more risks.
being gay probably complicated my virginity, but my panging for the same fulfillment was the same. i longed for closeness/comfort from a man, "but my fate is that of Tantalus who was surrounded by water he could not drink."
so eloquent, so true, so pathetic!!
i surrendered to my longings, nervously, anxiously, with my teeth literally chattering! it wasn't good, but provided fodder for hotter j/o sessions.
when i finally met my partner and experienced delicious sex....chocolate, ice-cream sex, i revelled in my wisdom in taking that risk and becoming vulnerable.
your words are a familiar anthem that i sing reflectively, like the break-up songs became all-too-familiar soon thereafter ;)
At last,these feelings are described.
These words that i'm telling myself quite often...
I'm so happy to see that i'm an alien,and not alone!
Maybe that sounds egoistic,maybe not...
I'm 23,will be 24 in in a few months,and still desperately virgin!
And nobody around me knows that "i am"...
Nobody would ever believe it,i think...
Even my best friend!
(And my actual new boyfriend!)
But,as we can express ourself,i'd like to tell you a bit of myself...When i was 18,at College,i fell in love with that guy,that became my boyfriend for 2 years.
At the time,i did not like myself,being a teen is not easy,and i felt very sad about never having been kissed before...But i was lucky,i had now a boyfriend,and i was to lose my virginity,that already weighs too much on me...
Things went their way,and we began to have"fun"...but that
was only to find that my boyfriend was scared about having sex...for he did not had sexual partners before...
(Imagine for a few minutes what i felt:"ok!great!" on one hand,and then:"Sh*t!It will take longer than i thought..."!)
So we waited,i did things that i thought i wouldn't at the time...only to find he did a mental block on that...
I took the pill,took our relationship by myself...only to found out,he did not"block" with other girls,and cheated on me.I felt so bad,about my first boyfriend that i actually
close on myself from the rest of the world.
All the people around me thought we had sex at the beginning of our story,and everyone told me:
"It will be ok,now you have passed THE grade...-the grade being a woman,which means having lost virginity!-you're pretty,and will find love again..."
People around me became parasites,and i could not bear them anymore...What followed was a big "clean-up",and i stayed alone for 2 years...alone with my virginity,that i began to hate more and more,and on top of that:me!
As a matter of fact,i left my immaturity one year ago,finally beginning to breathe and enjoy myself in being lonely.My personal pleasure became a way of life,and i thought i would meet a boy that would appreciate my "abnormality"(it is said that men love virgins!)...
I thought everything would be easy...my secret and I,the best things together...
As a matter of fact,my mother-who was for my ex-boyfriend a friend-she told me last year that she had lied to me for years about her health,and that she was HIV positive,but belonged to that portion of ill persons that got the virus "sleeping" in them for years,now.
Quite a shock.(My parents are divorced,and my father has new wife and kids,and prefer being bling!)
The point is that she told me taht my ex-boyfriend knew it accidentally,before i set him free...
I don't want to know if he did on mental block on that;we talked about sex a lot,and his problems did not seem to come from the things i did not knew at the time,but what my psychoanalyst qualified as "castration"...
On top of that,that guy had problems with himself i think...
All that stuff to say:there are always reasons that led to what i am still.
I'm now with a boy,who's 3 years younger than me,and think i'm the girl of his life,he still does not know i'm a virgin,for we live in different cities(sometimes i ask myself what have i done not to win the man that will understand what i am at first sight and enjoy it!)
In 2 weeks,my boyfriend's coming to see me for 10 days...
Maybe my virgin life will last,and how joyful i will be.
The thing is:how will i tell him...this secret lies with me for so many years,and almost decades it seems!
I want to have sex,i want to please him and i want to belong to that world of sex,too!
But i don't know if he will understand that I've got no particular problem with sex...i'm full of strange desires!
I just fear that,he may thinks i'm more experienced tahn him,and maybe will lead him...and you can imagine how i'd like too...
My analyst just told me to say it as simply as i could...
But she don't know hwo virginity rimes with "plague",sometimes! All the girls around me had their first sexual relation at 15 or 17!!
God!How i'm alone in this flesh and bone affair!
I wish i never had an hymen and has been a plant!
(Frankly,would it would not have been better?!)
Sometimes when i'm with my boyfriend,i can sense its there,this huge feeling that pleads to be released,unleashed...at last...!
And the fact is that i'm not fearing anything in this first
experience but telling my secret...
Words can be so murderous,and to say them can hurt more than just this organic and skinny moment,that,however makes the whole difference...
Thank you for reding this.
Thank you Debra.
Feel free to mail-me about this subject:
chastity@animepitstop.com
I lost my virginity a couple of weeks before my 28th b-day and I can't tell you how glad I am that I waited. The relationship that I am in is fantastic, sexually and otherwise. Sometimes good things DO come to those who wait.
Wow. That is about as sexy, erotic and beautiful as it gets.
It's not often that the same piece of writing can get you powerfully aroused, yet moved by its sweetness at the same time.
Keep that innocence until it really feels right. Most people, as you said, lose thier virginity,
because "everyone else is doing it." I wish I was still a virgin!!!
i'm not alone! i had always sworn that i would not "give it up" until it seemed really, truly inevitable. or at least made a good story. how was i to know that at 26 i'd still be waiting? i have "non-sexual" encounters on a maybe every-couple-years basis.
when confronted with my virginity, most men congratulate me. as if it's been so hard to "hold out" against the tide of male sexuality that is apparently beating down my door.
on the other hand...while other people are constantly searching for a new way to fuck, because all the old ways have been done, while they're moaning, "what ever happened to the good-oldfashioned makeout session?" we smile, knowing that when we get there, at least it'll still seem new.
http://beatpoetgrrl.diaryland.com
Hi,
I read your piece when Salon ran an article on the publication of the essays of Nerve in a book. Salon mentioned this piece as an example of a touching feature on the different aspects of sex.
I have always been surprised at how the West especially the Western women seem to regard virginity -- as if it was a curse to be get rid off as soon as possible. I am a 40 something virginal Asian woman and in this part of the world, being a virgin at that age is not a matter for people to think that something is wrong with you. The attitude to virginity differs in Asia...in some more conservative parts of Asia, a bride who is not a virgin can expect to be shamed (if she is lucky) or killed in the more extremely conservative parts of Asia as in some orthodox Muslim and Hindu areas although I must add there is nothing in both religion that condones the killing of a girl just because she was found to be a non-virgin on her marriage.
In the more developed parts of Asia where Westernization has seeped in, there is a more cavalier attitude to virginity: nobody lifts an eyebrow if you are and if you aren't.
For a many Asian and Middle Eastern women, virginity is part of the culture, religion and tradition and if they find themselves still virginal at 50 something, it is not something that many will thrash their heads against the wall and shed tears. As with everything, these women take it as part of life as it unfolds for them. They neither look down at women who have lost their virginity and neither are these virginal women looked upon as objects of pity.
Wow the most beautiful piece of erotic writing I have seen
Many congratulations in putting into words that which must people suffer of either sex.
I heard it read at first on BAE 2008 edition and had to read it.
Thank you for posting it here.
Now you say something