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Sex and Me... at 23

Losing "It" Late

Let’s talk about sex.

I’ve always been a late bloomer. I was the last out of my friends for pretty much everything. I got my period last, I had my first kiss last, had my first date last, and I was the last to get a boyfriend.

Yes, when it came to the key moments in my pubescent life, I was always a lap behind. But, I held with me that the things I was first at were far more important to me (grades, getting into college, getting a job, etc.). But as the years carried on, the pressure began to build to do that one thing that turned a girl, into a woman.

Lose that V-card.

I never thought much about it in high school. I didn’t want to go out with the guys in my class, let alone be intimate with them! Then I started University and suddenly all my friends were losing their once precious virginities faster than wildfire.

By the time I was in my twenties, I had one girlfriend left who hadn’t done the deed. Me and my sexless sister, and even she eventually beat me to the punch. I can’t lie, I was starting to get embarrassed, but it wasn’t like I was avoiding it on purpose! Well… mostly.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t exactly envision my first time starting off with a random guy, knocking on my dorm room door with a condom in hand, ready to go; or having my date announce that he’d like to “take me like the Wolf of Wall Street,” whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t need candles, flowers, and some smooth Boyz II Men playing in the background, either. I just didn’t want to have sex for the sake of having sex.

Of course, everyone told me I was being too picky…

You’re damn right I was!

I wasn’t “hunting” for someone to sleep with. I wasn’t even necessarily looking for someone to date. I simply knew what I wanted and when it came around, I would know. So, since I wasn’t open to one-night-stands and the fact that I only seemed to be dating a string of guys who never made it past the first date, my vagina was closed for business.

Just as I was beginning to accept my future as a lonely cat lady, I met my man.

I would love to tell you that he bumped into me by accident, making me drop my books, and when he leaned down to help me our eyes met and it was perfect. No, this is real life, we met on Tinder. Not the most romantic of settings but we did make a real connection that made us instantly comfortable with each other. It was that level of comfort that allowed me to finally do the deed.

And just like the story of how we met, it wasn’t magical, it was never going to be, but it was right. And what I gained was so much more valuable than just sex. I gained an actual partner in life who is still with me today.

So, I’ve only had one sexual partner, and he very likely will be my only sexual partner. An older version of me would have probably found some way to be ashamed of that, until I finally realized it’s not a goddamn contest.

I still get the occasional confused look or inappropriate reaction when people learn this information, but what does it matter? I don’t regret not having sex just as much as other people don’t regret having it. This was how it was supposed to go for me, and I’m more than okay with that.

Here’s what I learned…

  1. I got to be with a partner that knew what he was doing. So, while my first time was a little painful, it was still very pleasurable.
  2. There is ZERO shame in waiting for the right time and the right person. Anyone who tells you different is, frankly, an asshole.
  3. Being 23, I was more mature, so even though I was completely inexperienced, I still knew what I was doing better than I would have at 16.
  4. It was stress-free. I was with someone I fully trusted and I was in my own apartment so I didn’t have to worry about getting busted.

The most important lesson? That it’s nobody’s fucking business but your own, so make sure that when you do choose to “do it,” you’re still doing you.

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