Virginity: The state or condition of being pure, fresh, or unused. Great definition — not sure how I’d like to describe the pinnacle moment of losing my virginity now that it technically meant I was contaminated, burnt out, blown, depleted, and worn. I was now nothing more but an expended hand-me-down. I lost my virginity, and that makes me damaged goods all of a sudden? I prefer to think of myself as an antique. You know, like a time-honored, skilled veteran. Screw Webster and his dumb dictionary. How typical, doesn’t even know me and already trying to judge me. What gives him the right to appraise me anyhow? Damaged goods, my foot! No one has the right to judge us, nor define us. We define ourselves, and most of the time we are our biggest critics. We know who we are better than anyone else, why do we go out of our way to prove to others that which we already know? I know I’m not damaged goods, but perhaps I felt that way because I lost my virginity pre-maturely and not in the most pleasant of ways. The easiest way of dealing with things is to turn the other way, to bury the memories far away, so as never to deal with them again. The problem is when things are buried alive, they haunt you for eternity. No matter how much time passed, those demons plagued me in some way or another, without me even knowing it, subconsciously. They made their way into every relationship I had, skewed my reality, and took over the reigns of my mind, leaving me powerless in my own skin.

You're probably thinking, “Wow, all that from losing your virginity?” And yes, because it goes way beyond just "losing my virginity." It's about what I found in return, the experience, and the lessons that came with it to make me who I am today. Thirty-four and still single? Bingo! But let's come back to that part later after this segment on losing my virginity. Has a catchy ring to it, “losing my virginity.” It could be a nice parody to R.E.M.’s song "Losing My Religion."

Anyway, I can’t say that losing my virginity was this beautiful, magical, fairytale experience. Forget that—I can’t even say it was memorable. But it taught me something important—you guessed it, that men are all douchebags! Hey, you said it, not me! Sorry, I couldn’t resist that one, totally kidding—that’s not what it taught me, I didn’t learn that one until some time later. It taught me the importance of patience. That its not always about the destination but more importantly its about how you get there. It's been a long time since my virginity was laid to rest and despite all the times I’ve given it away since then, I can’t help but wish I had held on to it a little longer. I know, there’s no point in thinking about something I can’t go back and change now. It’s not like I can put up flyers offering a reward for my lost virginity with a picture of my vagina “HAVE YOU SEEN ME?” Reward if found, last seen with a penis somewhere in the Beverly Hills area, please call with any information. Why do they even call it “losing” when obviously its not lost or misplaced, once it's gone it's gone.

Whatever “losing” ones virginity was supposed to be like was definitely not what it was like for me. I just wanted to fast forward and get rid of it or be done with it like something on a to-do list, crossed off like a pap-smear or a smog check. There were no candles or rose petals, no romantic music in the background, there was no love, no passion. There was just me tossing my virginity out the window and into his sheets, like a piece of trash where it joined all the others that had once lay in that bed before me. I guess one would call him a virginity connoisseur, per say. I remember thinking “that’s it” as I mentally crossed off lose virginity in my head, “all this hype for a wham bam and thank you ma'am?”

I was watching him totally mesmerized at how handsome I thought he was—the chiseled bone structure in his face, those dimples in his cheeks… I was speechless and felt all warm and fuzzy inside. I felt those butterflies flapping away at my visceral organs and for a split second thought to myself this must be what love feels like. My stomach twisted into a knot right then and there, suffocating all the butterflies to their death with one his one look into my eyes. He didn’t need words, I saw it clearly in his eyes, I was nothing to him, and neither was my virginity. He decided to clarify for me in words, just in case I may have been mentally challenged. “Do you love me?” he asked as his dimples caved deeper into his cheeks and the furrow in his foerhead grew into a tight crease to show me the seriousness of such a question. Before I even had a chance to answer him, he did it for me. ”Don’t,” he proceeded, “it will only hurt you in the long run,” he said as he kissed my cheek and reached for his phone. Exactly the kind of thing you want to hear after tossing your virginity to the first bidder. Why was I in such a rush to get rid of it in the first place?

Often times our actions are governed by the actions of others, we do things we sometimes may not even realize we are consciously doing simply because somebody’s action brought about our reaction. Somehow that night taught me never to act on emotion. Maestro, some background info please….

VOILA….

I wasn’t in a rush to get rid of it at all, I was just angry. I had fought with my parents earlier that day and I wanted to rebel, mission accomplished, right? I rebelled alright, sure taught that hymen of mine a lesson. It will sure think twice next time… next time what? There is no next time, it's a one time deal, you don't get 2 virginities or 2 hymens, just one… and the one I had was now dead, murdered in cold blood, it was ripped out from inside of me and slaughtered execution style. Not to mention all the innocent butterflies that were massacred in my stomach as a result. Cherry Poppins did it and I let him. I wasn’t just his partner in crime on the "hymen hit," I was also the brains behind the operation… yes, it was all my idea—I’m the only grinch who stole any virginity here. I take full responsibility for the virginity kidnapping and cherry slaying that occurred on that night to remember, which I remember very little of... all I can say is the hymen didn’t struggle, and went out rather quickly without much suffering, may it rest in peace.

I was angry with my parents and the emotion I was feeling at that moment, at its peak, sparked a reaction out of me… one that was obviously not rational. It was the exact opposite of rational. Rational is defined as: Influenced by reasoning rather than by emotion; of sound mind, sane. Great, at least I could plea insanity in the hymen murder!

My point is I lost my virginity on a whim, on a stupid… angry, stubborn whim, fueled with spite and revenge which did nothing but backfire in my own face. My parents could care less about my virginity (at least now), the only person I wronged that night was myself… and my hymen... and of course the butterflies. A prime example of the idiom: cut off one’s nose to spite one’s face. Only in this case—pop one’s cherry to spite one’s vagina.