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Is there something wrong with me?

By: Margo Singleton

As a virgin, I have no shame in admitting that I have countlessly Googled “how to know when you’re ready for sex.” The fact that I’m Googling it clearly suggests that I’m not ready, yet I continue to take every Cosmopolitan quiz just to be sure. I wouldn’t be so concerned about my virginity if I were completely single, but as it turns out, my relationship status sports the “it’s complicated” label on Facebook.

My man and I are at a crossroad within our sex life. He desperately wants that homerun, while I’d much rather stay at third base. The amount of pressure I feel regarding the loss of my virginity is so overwhelming that I attempt to push aside all thoughts of it. For most others my age, this event has come and gone with little thought. When I hear other people’s stories, I can’t help but wonder, is there something wrong with me?

Those of whom I ask to provide me with advice simply say, “you’ll know when you’re ready”, but I’m not so sure that I will. There are many issues I have with losing my virginity, especially to this particular man. For the most part, the idea of potentially getting pregnant is enough to make me sew my vagina shut and prevent my legs from opening past a 20-degree angle. In that case, I’d have to take birth control, which does not personally appeal to me. Then there’s the decision of lube, condoms, location, and whether or not a date should be chosen. Although these are all necessary decisions to make prior to the big bang, I think my inability to feel ready for sex stems beyond these minor technicalities.

Will we have to have sex every time we hang out? What if he’s just with me because of the sex? Will I be okay if things don’t work out with him? Does he love me? Or more importantly, do I love him? By speculating about the answer to these questions, it may appear as if my boy toy and I haven’t had a proper discussion about sex, but we’ve had multiple. He’s promised to wait until I’m ready (which for him means asking “so can we?” every time we get down and dirty), but refuses to say we’re in a relationship until we do the deed. It is for this reason that I struggle with feeling ready to have sex with him. I shouldn’t have to satisfy him through intercourse to be seen worthy enough to get into a relationship with and even though I realize that, here I am. With five years under our belt, I truly want to believe that he sees more to this relationship than just potential sex. But wanting to believe it emphasizes the doubt that lingers. If we were to have sex in the near future, I wouldn’t be doing it for my own satisfaction. I’d be doing it to satisfy his needs, to make him not leave me again, and to finally be worthy enough to be in an unhealthy relationship with.

Sex shouldn’t be a requirement to be in a relationship and yet it seems to have become one. As a 20-year-old university student, it often feels like I’m the only one not having sex, which is why I usually don’t discuss my situation with friends. It wasn’t until this year when I started sharing my dilemma with others that I realized I’m not alone; there are other virgins who also feel pressured to define their worth through sex. If there’s anything I can take away from my love life, it’s that the decision to lose your virginity shouldn’t only include coming prepared with an effective form of birth control. There’s more to sex than just doing it with safety, you should want to have sex and do it under pressure-free circumstances that are right for you. After all, I’ve heard your first time is an experience few tend to forget, and even if it doesn’t go as planned, the least I can do is make sure I was more than ready.

Casual hookups aren’t for everyone

By: Ingrid Sampath

I come from a long line of late bloomers. Me, my sibling, those that came before us, we all took our sweet time when it came to settling into our sexuality. I’ve surrounded myself with fellow lead-footed florets my whole life, and up until recently, my slow-moving sex life has never caused problems for me.

My slowness is something I’ve always been comfortable with. I hadn’t kissed a boy until I was 18, hadn’t spent the night with someone until I was 21, but even with my general comfort in these numbers, and my box-ticking pretty much complete, I still felt like there were a lot of things I hadn’t properly experienced.

Anytime I was faced with the prospect of a relationship, I had the perfectly normal expectation that we would go out with one another for several months, make each other mix tapes (read: Spotify playlists), kiss in the rain a few times and then all of a sudden it would explode into a burst of sparkles, roses and orgasms. But more often than not, this simply never became a reality.

I tried my fair share of “relationships,” and most of them ended with my counterpart being dissatisfied with my rate of movement, and consequently dumping me before some major holiday.

I started to think that to have a twenty-first century romance I needed to discard my nineteenth century expectations and buckle down for a hard ride (pun somewhat intended) with fuck boys and Netflix and chill. I decided that I was tired of waiting for the “right” person to come along and instead I started settling for the next person to come along. Rather, the next people to come along.

Almost overnight I went from my contented slow-motion blossoming to what I thought would be a rapid sexual awakening that would turn me into a believer of casual sex and a true twenty-first century dater.

This was not an effective plan.

Quickly into my short string of conquests, I realized that I didn’t enjoy the nature of casual hookups. Anytime I met with someone, I was left feeling empty and dissatisfied, longing for the fireworks that I dreamt of. I don’t regret my decision to trial this lifestyle — I will admit, it was still a lot of fun — but after experiencing it, I learned something important.

Some people just do things slower, and that is OK. I’ve had countless conversations with friends who feel insecure about their lack of or minor experience, and it pains me to hear them say they feel the need to lower their standards or reduce their values just so they can have something more to show for their next partner.

Sometimes it feels like everyone is hooking up with everyone and you’re left trapped behind a hymen, but it’s OK to take your time if that’s what you want to do. You might be late to the party, but you’re nowhere near last call.

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