I lost my virginity ten days before my 24th birthday.
To this day, I go back and forth when people ask, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” Sometimes, I’ll say 23. Other times I’ll say 24. When I feel the need to elaborate, or rather, when I’m liquored up and blabbing away, I’ll say it was exactly ten days before my 24th birthday.
So to elaborate…
I was plagued with virginity my whole life. I went to private Catholic school for elementary and high school. Not that the nuns or priests stopped the curious kids from running amok and doing the dirty behind their parents’ backs. I just happened to join a crowd that studied hard, had a curfew, and went to sleep alongside teddy bears. Within my crowd of friends, there were four of us labeled ‘SVEC’ (the first letter of each of our first names). We were the four virgin girls. I do believe it stayed that way at least mid-way through college.
Full disclosure: I wasn’t a teenage girl any guy wanted to sleep with. Short, skin and bones, acne, braces, dorky as hell. Nor did I want to grow up. I was horrified when I got my period at the age of sixteen and hoped it would go away. So it did. After my first menstruation, I got it again…six months later. The hormonal thing fucked me up. I had few periods, but bled for weeks when I did menstruate. I got on birth control pills at 16 years old to regulate my period and to help with the acne. Ironic that I didn’t have sex until eight years later. I love telling people I started birth control when I was sixteen. Everyone thinks I was such a slut!
I entered the liberal, free-spirited world of UC Berkeley and wouldn’t you know…I found myself befriending four virgins. In that household of five girls I told you about, four of us were virgins. Like I said, virginity plagued me. After I turned 18, then 21, and still hadn’t broken that hymen, I made a pact with myself: You’ve waited this long, might as well wait for the right one. And how would I know who the right pussy popper would be? I vowed to not have sex with anyone unless he said those coveted three words.
I started working for a startup at the height of the Internet craze. Although one of the senior consultants caught my eye, I thought he was way out of my league. Too cute, too smart. He would never go for me. So I put him out of my mind.
We ended up working on a couple clients together—the two of us, commuting from our office in San Francisco to the client offices in the Peninsula. We worked so closely together and had such a good energy about us, that we became friends. I wouldn’t say we were good friends, but we had a comfortable rapport that seemed to go beyond a couple months. We worked hard, laughed hard, played hard–no romance whatsoever. I was ecstatic that I had befriended someone who was so cool, friendly, smart, and interesting.
Ten days before my 24th birthday, we were driving back into the city from a client site. After a long day of meetings, we were exhausted and hungry. I whined, “I’m so hungry. God, I’m so hungry. I can’t wait to get home and eat some Bagel Bites.”
“Let’s get dinner somewhere!”
I perked up. I always loved to eat out. We found ourselves back in the city, but couldn’t seem to settle on a place to dine. Zipping further and further down, we ended up at the Cliff House at the very edge of the city, perched above the ocean. The hostess gave us what seemed to be the best seat in the house with a glorious view.
After an enjoyable dinner, I stared quietly as the sun set on top of the ocean. “It’s so beautiful,” I whispered.
I was talking to myself, but he asked to come around to my side so he could watch too. We continued to enjoy the view. I was mesmerized at how nature was giving us this show–right in front of our eyes. I rarely had time anymore to stop and be still. I felt so serene.
“I love you.”
I was confused. Did he just say something? I turned my head up and looked at him, “What did you say?”
“I said I love you.”
My heart burst as I reached up to kiss him.
I lost my virginity that night, but woke up in a panic. Maybe it was a one night stand. He’s going to think I’m a slut. At work, I freaked out and tried to avoid him. He gave me a hug. I pulled away. I left work early. He left me messages. He said he would stop by. I opened the door. He was concealed by a large bouquet of bright red roses.
Ten days later, I turned 24, but I didn’t have to wish for anything that year. I was in love with my boyfriend.