There once was a time when purity among young women was a social requirement. Up until the 1950s, it was expected that women would remain pure, not straying from the expectation to blossom into proper little housewives. But in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the age of Doris Day anymore (props to those who resonate with my well-out-of-date references), and it seems as if teens are more eager than ever to ‘get it on’. And while I am by no means condemning the hook up lifestyle of my generation, starting my freshman year of college has caused me to question my actions over the past seven months.
When I arrived at Hofstra University this fall, it was safe to say that I was very much a virgin. Having only ever kissed a boy three weeks prior, I was terrified yet anxious to put my past behind me and start catching up with my peers. I was embarrassed; scratch that, humiliated, over my lack of experience. The kiss was with a guy I’d met over the summer, and it was terrible. I wasn’t sure if it was because of how positively petrified I was when he planted one on me or the tickly, caterpillar-sensation of his handlebar mustache.
I wasn’t your typical ‘Never Been Kissed’ story; I’m tall, thin, smart, and I was a cheerleader in high school. Yet the right guy never seemed to come around. That is until about a month into school, when a random Facebook encounter led me to meet someone who would turn my Laura Ingles-Wilder existence into a nearly Sasha Grey alter ego.
I met Jon* through Facebook, when he commented on one of my statuses about longboarding. I was eager to meet someone new and interesting in a place where I hardly knew anyone, so I took the chance and started talking to him. The next day, I boarded to his house with a stomach full of nerves and my brain screaming at me to turn around and skate back to the comforts of my dorm. I’d never been the type of girl to meet a guy online, that’s what date-rape Lifetime disasters are made of. Yet I was hungry to ‘try new things’, not be the pussy that stayed in her bed and devoured Netflix like it was a job.
When I arrived on his doorstep, I was a fidgety mess. I had no idea who this guy was. But before I could change my mind, he came to the door and let me in. He seemed pretty cool from the start, inviting me down stairs and introducing me to all of the guys that lived in his house. They all seemed so much older than me and I tried to play it off that I wasn’t just some freshman. After a while, the other guys left and Jon made me dinner and we started to watch a movie. I was so nervous; especially when he asked me if he could kiss me. My second kiss was just as awkward as my first, I had no idea what to do with my body and I knew that he could tell by my corpse-like posture that I was nervous.
I left his house later that night feeling defeated and ashamed, frustrated that my nerves were so obvious. I didn’t want to be that girl anymore, I wanted to be Serena van der Woodsen from Gossip Girl, a girl who lit up a room with her confidence and could make any guy fall all over her. And while my mind was telling me to jump forward and become this girl, my body wouldn’t cooperate.
I needed to let go of the girl I was in high school, in order to have a life that I’d always secretly craved. Being a virgin, it didn’t fit my personality. I felt the weight of my purity bearing down on me and I knew that I couldn’t go back in time and change. I could only look ahead and forget the girl who couldn’t even kiss a guy without getting shaky and panicky.
*Names may be changed to protect identities.