Saturday, January 7, 2012

Virgin Myths: Virgins are Boring

Cherry graphic via

I don't drink,
Or swear.
I don't rat my hair.
I get ill from one cigarette.

Myth: Virgins abstain from having sex, so they must abstain from all other “risky” behaviors as well.

Y'all have seen Grease, right? I love this movie, despite its flaws. (Virgin/whore dichotomy much?) I think one of my favorite songs from the movie is “Sandra Dee,” when Rizzo makes fun of Sandy for being a goody-two-shoes. For one, we get a glimpse at Rizzo's amazing legs. But two, even though the song mocks Sandy's virginity, I've always liked the explicit description of saving sex for marriage. Off the top of my head, I can't think of a single other song that does that. Even Billy Joel's “Only the Good Die Young,” (another personal favorite) just alludes to waiting to have sex.

Confession: When I was younger (read: high school), this song also described me to a T. I didn't drink until I graduated high school, I have still never smoked a cigarette, and I swore only under extreme duress. (Now I usually only swear when impassioned about sexism, but that's neither here nor now). I'm going out on a limb here, but “ratting my hair” is a metaphor for dressing to attract sexual attention. I didn't (intentionally) do that in high school either. (My tops did become tighter and more low-cut when my boobs started growing at an alarming rate, but only because I couldn't afford to buy an entirely new wardrobe).

But the thing is, I'm not in high school anymore. I've grown up. Yet people still assume I'm the sweet and innocent little girl I once was. Especially if people know I'm an intentional virgin.

Hey, maybe I'm biased. Maybe I have a different definition of “sweet and innocent” than the average twenty-something-year-old. Let's examine a few highlights of the last few years, and then y'all, my intelligent (and objective) readers can determine if I'm still "sweet and innocent."

Junior and senior year, I stopped wearing togas to Beta Omega Rho's* toga/initiation party each spring. “Where's your toga?” the brothers asked me. “I like this dress better,” I always replied. “It shows more cleavage.” The guys never seemed to mind.

For Valentine's Day my senior year, I had plans to cook dinner with my bestie/roomie Rose* and our good friend Lily.* Lily's roommates, however, had plans to go to Hooter's, and they invited us to join them. I agreed, but on one condition: Rose, Lily, and I (all well-endowed) had to wear our most low-cut tops. “So we'll fit in!” I justified.

This one time in Paris, I was completely wasted. (It led to my first girl-on-girl action... so, yeah). I was wearing this ridiculously short, extremely low-cut, pink and black dress. By “ridiculously short,” I mean I had to wear it over leggings or jeans because when I walked, the dress rode up so much it no longer completely covered my ass. By “extremely low-cut,” I mean my bra spilled out the top because it was cut more modestly. Anyway. At some point, after having made out with Jane* and Ali,* I was really hot from dancing so much. So was Ali. She said she was going to the bathroom to take her tights off, and I thought that was a great idea! So I took my leggings off in the bathroom and shoved them into my purse. We went back down to the dance floor, we climbed back on the table where we'd been dancing, and I didn't worry at all about flashing the entire club. Luckily I was wearing black boy-cut panties with pink polka dots, so they a) covered all the important parts and b) matched my dress.

On more than one occasion, I have been (drunkenly) making out with a guy in a semi-public place (empty hallway of a hotel after playing trivia in the hotel pub; semi-dark corner of Duplex, a nightclub in Paris; on the floor, halfway in the coat & shoe closet of Ali's host family's house), and one of my boobs kinda, sorta popped out of my bra and top. Oops. I don't think anyone saw it (except for each guy at the time).


What have we learned?

  1. I'm extremely comfortable with my body and love to show if off.
  2. I enjoy drinking and will often consume alcohol in excessive quantities.
  3. I like making out. A lot. Sometimes with strangers. Sometimes with girls. Currently just with the boyfriend.

Maybe I'm not having sexual intercourse until I'm married.

But that doesn't mean I'm not having a hell of a wild time until then. ;)


*It's pretty difficult remembering the fake names for each of my friends and Greek organizations in my life. #anonproblems


  1. Billy Joel is my absolute favorite performer in the world. Love, love, LOVE him.

  2. Omg, he's my absolute favorite singer too!!! My very first musical memory is from when I was maybe five or six, listening to his record, tapping my Tinker Toys on the tin like a drum in time to the music. Daddy was impressed that I was ACTUALLY in time to the music. And, of course, the best concert I ever attended was Billy Joel, when I was 19. *le sigh* Good times.

  3. Hear, hear for Billy Joel! In terms of explicit no-sex before marriage lyrics in a song, this is one of my favorites from a long time ago. It is by Christian artist Rebecca St-James, whose personal story about living in abstinence is inspiring. It's called "Wait for Me." The first video has a lovely intro, but the second has better quality music.


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