My freshman year packing list looked a little like this: Books? Check. Parka? Check. Virginity? Check.
OK, nobody was going to see that list anyway. But I packed away my virginity in the same way you’d pack away your stuffed puppy, Chuckles—in a dark, secluded corner of your closet that not even your roommate can get to.
It’s an unwritten law of the land: Don’t come to college as a virgin. Screwin’ before move-in (I totally pulled that one out of my ass). With all the stories floating around high school and all the hype about doing it in the back of a limo on prom night (hello, American Pie), it was hard not to see college as one giant fuck fest.
Then I came to college myself. Yep, it’s a fuck fest… for the most part. There is, however, a small minority of the student population that—gasp! —hasn’t had sex. The reasons are as different as the people in that population. Yeah, you read that right. Some of us may be ugly or naïve or prudish, or a combination of the three, but most of us are shockingly normal.
I never planned on broadcasting my virginity to anyone outside my two closest friends, who were having sex with their respective boyfriends. One night, we were chatting with a guy from our dorm. Inevitably, as in most college conversations, the topic of sex came up.
I was laughing along, understanding everything perfectly, when my one friend said casually, “Oh, yeah, everyone here’s had sex… except for C.J. No offense.”
Yeah, offense. I was humiliated. Did that really need to be broadcasted in front of someone I barely knew? Would the guy look at me any differently? There was more to me than my inexperience. Why did that have to be the first thing people knew about me? I curled up into my shell for the rest of that conversation.
Am I ashamed to be a virgin? I’ve grappled with this question since before I graduated high school. Among my group of friends back home, losing your virginity put you in the “lucky” minority. Then I came to college and became part of the “unlucky” minority—people who might as well be wearing nuns’ habits. Okay, I’m exaggerating. However, as the aforementioned story shows, I felt like my friends didn’t take me seriously because of my sexual inexperience. That always pissed me off. Sure, my ninth-grade health teacher thought Look Who’s Talking would tell us everything we needed to know, but I now know enough about the birds and the bees to have an intelligent conversation about it or, more importantly, to laugh at a “that’s-what-she-said” joke.
So, why haven’t I had sex yet? Quite simply, I haven’t found the right person.
I’ve come close to sex only once. I had been seeing this guy for about three weeks. When I first met him, he seemed like the type who’d only seen boobs in porn and art books. Turns out, he’d already had sex with two girls. Things got very hot between us very quickly. The night before Halloween, we sneaked away from our friends up to his dorm room. Within two minutes, my dress had been stripped off and I was lying on his bed. He kissed me. He touched me. I felt as good as I should have, according to any cheesy rom-com.
Then I felt something enter me.
I panicked, gasped and looked down. It was only his middle finger.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied. “I just didn’t know where your penis ended up.”
That did it. He yelled at me for a good five minutes, accusing me of not trusting him when I had no reason not to. Excuse me, but I am not one to completely trust someone I barely know—that’s how you get taken advantage of.
The next night, he broke off the relationship. He said he didn’t think we were compatible partners. I did learn one thing from him: Compatibility is frequently measured by your willingness to put out.
I’m not trying to turn this into a piece about condom-nation (punny), nor am I taking offers (the answer’s most likely going to be negative). I’m just trying to shed a little light on the students who choose not to have sex. It’s safe to assume much of the student population is having sex. But until someone tells you directly about his or her sex life (or lack thereof), there’s no way to know for sure. Who knows? Perhaps the person you least expect has been around the block a few more times than you have. For those of you who’ve yet to make it around the block at all, don’t feel the need to catch up with the rest. Sex isn’t a race, and I’m in no hurry to cross the finish line.
* Names have been changed.