The First

First off, let me tell you so we are all clear, I am a virgin. Yes, a virgin. I can see you sitting there with your eyes wide, but before you start in on any of the crap I hear all the time just let me go ahead and stop you right there. Save your breath, please. I am not a virgin because no one has ever wanted to have sex with me, I am a virgin because I choose to be. To quote Cher Horowitz, “I’m not a prude. I’m just highly selective. You see how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet.”

I’ve just been waiting for the right shoe with the perfect fit. That’s all.

I honestly don’t know what it is about the word virgin that gets people so uppity and opinionated. This isn’t a Jane Austen novel. I am not a marriageable spinster with cobwebs between her thighs. I am a woman who a while ago decided that I didn’t want to have sex with just any guy. I wanted it to be right, to feel right. Being a virgin also doesn’t mean I don’t like to talk about sex. I do. I may not have experienced it, but I that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about it. I’ve got some very intricate fantasies, ones that usually involve my boyfriend, Harry.

We’ve been together for a little while now and more and more lately I’ve been feeling like it’s finally time. Everything feels just right with him. I’ve honestly never felt this way about any other man. The moment he kissed me, I knew it.

I knew that he would be the first, the first for everything.

Notes