What IS ‘virginity’ anyway?

And how exactly would one lose it?

Help! My virginity! It’s floating away! I don’t want to lose it…

You never forget your first

I remember the first time I had sexual intercourse pretty clearly. At the time, I thought of it as ‘losing my virginity,’ or as my partner-at-the-time ‘taking my virginity,’ or that’s how I thought of it right up until the actual event.

I was pretty thoroughly lost in that moment with my then-partner, so it didn’t occur to me until after the fact: ‘I lost it.’

Something about the phrasing, even the idea underlying it, didn’t jibe with my experience. I hadn’t lost… anything, as far as I could tell.

Being raised religious (and I was a sophomore in high school at the time, so still very much steeped in it), I certainly had my share of shame-based, sex-negative feelings. ‘I’m just like Eve,’ I thought. ‘I’ve tasted the forbidden fruit,’ which, bee tee dubs, instills wisdom and/or knowledge — it doesn’t strip anything away from the person eating it.

This is the Wikipedia image for Virginity. I quote: “White has traditionally been associated with ritual purity, innocence and virginity.” Ever hear a snide joke about wearing white at a wedding? Fuck that shit. I’ve got no use for it.

I had nervous, mixed-up, uncomfortable feelings (along with some really good ones) about attaining this level of ‘sexually active,’ but I for sure hadn’t lost anything — not the first time, nor on any of the subsequent occasions. I gained experience and knowledge, and beyond that, intercourse felt so collaborative. My partner and I were creating something — sort of a dance — that only the two of us could.

On some level, even though I couldn’t have articulated why, I was bothered by the fact that my partner supposedly ‘had’ my virginity, whatever that was, and like… for forever.

I was equally bothered by the fact that some random (to me) asshole ‘had’ hers, also forever. I had the vague sense that I wanted him to give it back, to give her a do-over.

Of course, she did get a do-over: me. She got do-overs after me, too (and probably needed them, bless her heart). Nothing was etched in eternity, or seared into the permanent record of our souls, though I remember her and our lovemaking fondly (distantly, but fondly).

What, ultimately, did the first person she had sex with have of hers? What of mine did she have? Nothing tangible, certainly, but even intangibly or metaphysically — did we ever lose anything at all?

I posit: no.