Like A Virgin
What My First Time Taught Me About Sex
First-time sex can be so many things — awkward, embarrassing, painful, cringe-worthy — but it's also pretty educational. We loved this woman's honest (and hilarious!) story, detailing how she lost her virginity, and what the experience means to her today. —Glo
By Jennifer Rhodes for YourTango
It is an indisputable fact that I'm a perfectionist. I obsess over the most minute details. I ruminate on the inane. I become so preoccupied with the particulars that I lose sight of the big picture. Whoever coined the phrase "you can't see the forest for the trees" was definitely referring to someone like me.
My first time having sex, however, caught me more than a little off guard. Despite my best-laid plans that I would be losing my virginity in a suite at the Ritz to someone of Jared Leto caliber‚ it happened spontaneously — and I had no control over the details. When my crush whipped out the condom he'd been trying to use on me for the last six months, I surprised both of us when, this time, I didn't say no.
The imperfections quickly became apparent, as I began my characteristic fixating in my head. This hurts. I'm going to need stitches. If I have to get stitches, then my mom is going to find out. If my mom finds out, I am totally going to be grounded. Why is he still wearing that stupid hat? I am going to rip that dumb thing off his head. That's better. Wait what the heck is this music? Is this Cypress Hill? I'm losing my virginity to Cypress Hill?!
Very few times in life have I been blessed with the momentary ability to see past small flaws and appreciate a larger experience. It's even more rare that these epiphanies successfully interrupt my impenetrable obsessive thoughts. Fortunately for me, probably due to the sheer magnitude of the event, losing my virginity was one of those moments.
You've waited years to do this, the voice in my head said.
This is supposed to be fun. Stop over-thinking it, the voice continued.
Don't you know I'm loco? Oh, wait. That wasn't the voice in my head. I think that was the lyrical styling of B-Real (the Cypress Hill rapper, not the b-reel of my thoughts ... though, it would be interesting if my subconscious spoke in Spanish-influenced English).
And so, heeding the advice of the sage voices — B-Real's and my own — I let it all go. If only for a brief moment in time, I eased up. I didn't obsess or fixate or overthink. I didn't analyze or dissect or agonize. I took in the moment's perfect imperfection and let it be. I think I even laughed.
For once in my life, I enjoyed the(ahem) ride and tuned out everything that didn't matter: the state of his bedroom (no luxury suite), the less-than-ideal soundtrack and that ridiculous hat, which he actually stopped, mid-act, to put back on. For a moment, I ignored all that was inconsequential. For a moment, I relaxed. And that feeling, in and of itself, was perfect.
I will always be the perfectionist, the girl who gets overly caught up in the details. And frankly, my first time did not sync with the choreographed deflowering on Ritz Carlton 1000 thread-count sheets I'd mapped out in my head years earlier. However, I was fortunate to have had a first time that dramatically shaped my outlook on sex in a positive way.
There are times when striving for perfection matters and obsessing over the minutiae is appropriate, but sex isn't one of them. Sex is about momentarily relaxing and savoring the experience, not about going insane ... in the membrane, to quote good old Cypress Hill.
First-time sex can bring a lifetime of wisdom.John Worthington