One year later: Further confessions of a St Andrews virgin

It’s been about a year since I first wrote about my experiences as a virgin at St Andrews. Unfortunately, no cherries have been popped, no de-flowering has occurred, and I’m still absolutely gagging for it. (I currently have twelve condoms in my bedside table. Twelve.)

In my first article, I explained that I was simply waiting to have sex with someone I was comfortable enough with. You would think that at least one such opportunity would appear in a year – but to no avail. Whenever a friend mentions that they are a “nun” because they haven’t had sex for a month, I raise an eyebrow and think well what the hell does that make me, then?

However, my experiences have changed since last writing. A year ago I mentioned experiences where men have simply walked away from me or seemed pissed off when I informed them of my virginity. But in the last few months I have had some experiences that have both restored my faith in the existence of (some) nice men and helped me to feel less embarrassed about being a 20-year-old virgin.

At a ball last winter, I somehow ended up walking home with a boy. I was so worried about handling the whole “virgin” situation that I just blurted out, as we were leaving, “Just to let you know, we’re not having sex So if you don’t want to leave with me, that’s fine”.

Expectation: He would look disappointed, apologise, and leave.

Reality: He paused, looked at me, and said, “Whatever you’re comfortable with”.

I was shocked, and half convinced that he was only pursuing this as some sort of sick, “she’s-playing-hard-to-get” challenge. But it turns out that there are honest men out there. Without spilling all the dirty details, we didn’t have sex, we had a fantastic night, and I never once felt uncomfortable or insecure. He never pushed for it, and often asked me whether I was okay with what he was doing. At some point I explicitly apologised for being a virgin, still a little embarrassed, but he just smiled and said it didn’t matter.

Looking back, I shouldn’t have apologised, because you should never apologise for the choices you make regarding your own body.

Conversely, I am less embarrassed about being a 20-year-old virgin than I was about being a 19-year-old virgin. Sure, there are moments when I feel down about it, but then I think about why I’ve made this choice, and I have no regrets. Right now, I’m focusing on my friendships. And who knows, friendship turns into something more all the time.

I’m still hopeful that this year I’ll take the plunge, but if it doesn’t, then next year you’ll be hearing from a confident, 21-year-old virgin. And that’s just fine.

Image courtesy of http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Males_and_females_kissing#mediaviewer/File:Rock_Hudson_-_Julie_Andrews.JPG