The Virgin Dating

I recently dated a virgin. It wasn't told outright, or discussed in depth--but when he asked me how I knew I said it was in his shaky hands, his quick and rigid kisses, his not-in-a-good-way wandering tongue that liked to park itself in my mouth; and all of that would have been endearing if it weren't for his talk of faith and the need to seek a partner who shared his conservative faith and values.

I found myself confronting a girl I knew a long time ago; a girl who loved deeply, captivated young boys, and valued innocence. That girl met the gaze of a woman who loves deeply, captivates men, and values experience and the complexity of love. Coming face to face for the first time in 9 years, tears and diatribe surfaced. For years the girl had held on to the woman, being her voice of chastisement, her voice of disappointment. Part of the girl always wished she knew the woman and part of the woman always wishes she knew the girl--and now they met face to face.

I, the woman, was vindicated--from years of self diatribe and retribution. It was as if my head and my heart were finally in the same place and I was at peace with my sexcapades of the past. Although we live in a sexually free and almost promiscuously governed social world, I fear women are still left with a tinge of shame--and no matter how you argue it, a guy who has slept with 14 women is less of a slut than a woman who has slept with 14 men. The double standard pervasively in our culture.

My heart used to tell me it was okay to try new men, to explore my body and my mind sexually. Yet my head still clung to the notion that I would be less of a person, have less of a chance, be more soiled--each time I slept with someone. Even in monogomous relationships--loving, caring, good and healthy relationships--I still carried with me shame and guilt--in the back of my head--ready to attack at my most vulnerable. Whether because of that shame, or because my curiosity and overwhelming need to discover my sexuality--I have had a wonderful 9 years of sexcapades of all sort.

I looked the virgin in the eyes and what came out, with no prior rehearsal or thought, was, "That was something that was important to me as well, at one point---and now sex and sexuality are even more important." Coming from being with a man who truly knew how to make love to a woman, to being confronted with an ideology I let go of so long ago--I finally felt good and okay with my sexuality. No small voice, no guilt, no shame--it vanished...along with my relationship with the virgin.

But how often are women given such liberation from societal standards? They are still not taught how to love themselves, not taught what it means to orgasm, not taught what it means to have a choice to do it with him or not, not taught that he won't love you if you do it, and he won't love you if you don't do it, and we are definitely not taught that you don't need to sleep with men to validate your existence.

Last night in an episode of the Sex and the City, Carrie Bradshaw has a revelation and decides not to go home with a man at 2am. She says, "I realized this would be the first time I would sleep with a man to validate my life". First of all, Sex and the City is watched by college aged women who are not the characters of the show--yet who "identify" with the characters of the show. It is a lifestyle many women think okay to emulate, yet their parent's still pay their phone bill and they don't have a credit card. TV is full of the dichotomies of women; those who are sluts and damaged to no avail by sex, and those who are powerful and confident with their sexuality. There is no depiction of the middle ground--of that small voice that calls yourself a slut--and of the young, newly independent woman struggling to catch her heart up to her head. Maybe we could help ourselves my not passing judgment, by teaching each other, and accepting each other--maybe then we can start a revolution. A revolution of sister support, of loving your body, of loving yourself, of respecting yourself, of respecting your sister.