Blogoversary: Two Years of Finding My Virginity

Two years and one day ago, I styled my hair a new way.

Today I twist my hair up like that several times a week.

Two years and one day ago, I wore a new black dress with purple flowers.

Today that dress is too big for me, but it hangs in my closet for curvier days ahead.

Two years ago, I had my shared apartment to myself because Lauren was out of town.

Today Lauren and I have our own apartments down the street from each other.

Two years ago, I drank 3-4 cans of Diet Coke with Lime a day.

Today I drink 3-4 cans of Diet Coke, sometimes with Lime, a week.

One year and one day ago, I said good-bye to my family in the South and moved to the Midwest.

Today I’ve lived in the same city, without interruption, for the longest amount of time since graduating high school.*

One year ago, I wrote the scariest post I’d ever written.

Today I take the first step to losing my anonymity.**

Taking selfies without showing my face is HARD, y'all!

My reasons for anonymity are legit. I think wanting to discuss sensitive topics like sex and sexuality with complete honesty is difficult without anonymity. I mostly read lifestyle blogs, and y’all don’t talk about sex. Like, ever. Which is totally fine and your prerogative and I respect that decision completely, because sex is personal. But I can’t talk about virginity without talking about sex, and I don’t know if I could have maintained this blog for the last two years if my parents, former professors, colleagues, etc. had been reading it.

But anonymity is tiring. I think twice before I tweet about what I’m doing. Does this refer to my location? I crop all my photos. How much of my face can I reveal before it identifies me too much? I have to keep track of pseudonyms for every single person in my life. I was hanging out with Hardy and Lauren, and damn it, where’s my list of best friends? What do I call… James, that’s it. I call him James.

And I write and write and write. I tweet and tweet and tweet. I comment everywhere. I buy ads on other blogs. I’m myself. I’m authentic. I paid for a blog design. I do all that stuff I’m supposed to do to build blog traffic, and it’s not enough. 

Look at my new button on Casey's blog!

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Because the people who know me IRL aren’t allowed to post my blog to facebook, or link it to any mutual friends. Because I can’t ask my friends and family to like my facebook page.

Because the network I have who comment all over my personal facebook wall, who send me links to articles on sexual assault and modesty culture and France and women’s history, who email me to thank me for the work I do, who ask me if I blog, who share all over the place the tiny handful of public writing I do…

They have no idea Belle Vierge exists. Or if they’ve stumbled across her (this happened once), they don’t realize Belle is me.

But as much as I want to shed my cloak of anonymity and shout to the rooftops that I’m happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time, I’m not there yet.

I don’t really think my parents should find out I’m bisexual via a blog post, nor do I think it’s right or fair to attach H’s name to his assholery. And those of you who do know me IRL, and those of you who I met here who have discovered my real name, I think y’all will agree that my first name is unique. Unique enough that fear of discovery by future potential employers is a legitimate concern.

Seriously, if you google my first and last name, you find results for three people. That’s it. I share my name with a lawyer and with a photographer. Also my firstnamelastname.com domain name has already been taken, alas.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few weeks thinking about this post. Planning what I would write. And I should note, for the record, that I’m writing this the actual evening of July 30, 2013, still torn on what to reveal of myself while still allowing the freedom to be myself.

I realized I’m not so worried about people finding my blog and realizing it’s me as I am people knowing who I am, looking me up online, and discovering my blog. The first involves searching for certain qualities and associating them with me. The latter is only knowing me or my name and suddenly discovering some rather strong opinions and personal information.

So here are some things 

I never directly mentioned before.

A Letter to My Readers

Dear Readers,

Y'all are the best. I know every blogger says it, but it's true.

I started this blog because I had something to say that I didn't see elsewhere on the web. I felt like virginity was misunderstood. I wondered if anyone else out there felt the same.

When you tell me that my blog has reassured you, or that my writing has made you reevaluate your ideas about something, or that you feel inspired by me, you make my entire day bright. Even if you tell me that in an email, and I haven't gotten around to replying to you yet.

I love all of my readers, but I want to take a moment to recognize my readers from my real life. You know who you are.

To my best friend/sorority sister/heterosexual life partner/Love Of My Life: you've read everything I've written since I was 18. Your love, your support, and yes, your constructive criticism, mean the world to me.

To my Big and my Little: I wish y'all could be in my everyday life, but I'm glad the Internet gives us the opportunity to keep up with each other. I also feel like we should star in our own TV show about the different ways to be a feminist. We have so much in common (DISNEY! BOOKS! TEA! LOVE, RESPECT, AND UNDERSTANDING!), but we're all so different as well.

To my wonderful boyfriend: You are so patient with the amount of time I devote to writing, time that is taken away from you. You're the most amazing person I know, and I'm so blessed to call you mine. (I just resisted a my precioussss joke right there).

To the other dozen or so friends who read this: Thank you for accepting me for who I am.

Gros bisous,

Belle Vierge

Regrets? I Have None.

Confession: Occasionally I doubt the decisions I've made. Occasionally I ask myself “what if?” Occasionally I look at my friends and wonder if they know something I don't.

Should I have attended such an expensive, private university? I'm leaning towards teaching high school rather than earning my Ph.D., so it's not as though I need the prestigious credentials.

What if I had gone to grad school straight after undergrad, instead of moving to France? I could be halfway towards my Ph.D. already, with my Master's in hand.

If everyone else is having sex, then why I do I continue to wait for marriage? No one would fault me or think I'm hypocritical. Waiting to be in love is still an accomplishment.

Occasionally these thoughts run through my head. But most of the time?

I'm totally confident in what I've done, who I am, and where I'm going.

I've watched my dreams come true, from joining a sorority to studying abroad in France, from working in France to interning at my sorority's headquarters.

I'm a fearless young woman in love for the first time, working for an amazing French family in a friendly suburb of a glamorous city, and gearing up to move to Canada with them.

I continue to follow my heart, as I've always done. My heart has led me outside of the South, which may always be home, but is no longer big enough to contain me.

Life doesn't always happen the way we plan it, and that can be a good thing. Yes, be ambitious, set goals, but when your heart's desire changes, don't be afraid to change your life along with it. 

Oxymoron: A Virgin's Sex Life

“How was the non-sex sex?”

So began my gchat discussion with my bestie and sorority sister Lauren when I returned home from Thanksgiving with the boyfriend. What followed was a brief overview of our physical relationship and how amazing it is when we're together (although the skype sex is fun too). Of course, then Lauren and I (and her boyfriend, another bestie of mine, Hardy) skyped two nights later, during which I provided a blow-by-blow (pun unintended) account of Thanksgiving with the boyfriend and his family.

Everything from him surprising me with a rose at the airport to showering together to playing board games with his family to falling asleep in his arms to all of us going to see The Muppets.

Of course, the highlight of the weekend was the post-climatic cuddling Thursday night. My head rested on his chest, and he had one arm around me, with his other hand entwined with mine. He told me that he had dreamed about this moment, but in his dream, I told him I loved him.

Why, yes, that sound you heard is my heart bursting out of my chest because I am so in love with him.

I got the biggest smile on my face and said that it had been so so hard not saying it the last few weeks (even if it is all over twitter...), but that I didn't want our first time to be over skype. He agreed with that sentiment. Then I said that I had planned on telling him that day, but didn't know when to say it. He said he didn't mind saying it first. "I'm in love, what can I say?"

Ughhhh, he's so perfect, and I'm so lucky.

Did you know that he's my first boyfriend? That I'm in my 20s, and I've just now fallen in love with my first boyfriend? That I could have had one years ago if I had settled for my best friend Joe? (Which would have pleased both of our families and all of our friends immensely, by the way).

Do you have any idea how challenging it was to find a man who doesn't pressure me about our physical relationship? A man who's assertive in expressing his desire for me, but who also moves at a pace that makes me comfortable? A man who's made the same commitment to waiting for marriage? (And for non-religious reasons, just like I have!)

Most of the time, I enjoyed being single, but the older I got, the more difficult it became. People started acting like there was something wrong with me for having never had a boyfriend. Yes, you're right, I do differ from the majority of the population in a quirky way.

I have standards.

#sorrynotsorry

Those standards involve not having sex until marriage, which automatically eliminates the vast majority of folks in their 20s. Couple that with my feminist streak a mile wide, and you can understand my extremely limited dating pool.

But I waited and waited and waited until I met the boyfriend, and he's everything I ever desired in a significant other. When I told my best friend Ryan about the boyfriend, his response summed up everything I've been feeling.

“So happy for you. You kept the faith that you would find someone amazing, you didn't settle, and you have been rewarded.”

The best part about dating a fellow virgin who agrees that premarital sex is not a sin?

Completely losing ourselves in all the non-sex sex. ;)

Versatile: A Francophone Feminist Post-grad Sorority Girl, Blogging About Virginity

Versatile: ver-sa-tile [vur-suh-tl] or, especially British, [vur-suh-tahyl]: capable of, or adapted for, turning easily from one to another various tasks, fields of endeavor, etc.: a versatile writer.
Word information source: www.dictionary.com

Here is how the award works:
1. You thank the person who presented you with the award.
2. You tell 7 things about yourself.
3. You award 15 other newly discovered bloggers.

I was super-excited and totally honored when the beautiful Kristine included me on her list of 15 (more or less) newly discovered bloggers. It's taken me an extremely long time to pass it on, but better late than never, right?

Seven Things About Me... (Didn't I already cover this here?)

1. Pink is my favorite color, but when I'm shopping for purses, shoes, scarves, or other daily accessories, I usually buy red or purple, both of which I love as colorful neutrals. On an unrelated note, I can't wait to turn 50 and join The Red Hats Society.
2. I'm obsessed with my sorority, but no, I can't say which one because I interned there. I'm sure y'all will appreciate my research, though. You just won't know it's mine. ;)
3. My favorite pandora station is based on the artist “Glee Cast.” It's the best mix of classic rock, Broadway showtunes, pop, and country. Plus Glee covers!
4. I've seen Wicked in both New York City (I was 17) and London (I was 23).
5. I could happily live in France the rest of my life. Part of the reason I want to be certified to teach high school history & French is to gain the credentials to teach in an American/international high school in France. Like where my cousin teaches. I'm 100% serious.
6. I'm a good writer, but I'm also a really good editor. If you need someone to look over your history essay/blog post/newspaper column/etc., especially just for grammar/spelling/punctuation, than I am your friend. I also really enjoy editing papers. #nerdconfession
7. One of my happiest memories of my current au pair job was a few weeks ago. I was driving my kids to school and also dropping off my boss dad at the train station. Adele came on the radio. My youngest started singing, my boy joined in, I added my voice, and then my oldest sang along as well. It illustrates two huge things I love about my job: being comfortable with my bosses and singing all the time with my kids.

Fifteen Blogs I Like! (Not necessarily newly discovered).

1. Boats And Bowties aka my twitter crush.
2. How to Lose Your Virginity
3. Lindsey Leigh of Keep It Classy, Alabama
4. Therese of The Unlost
5. Victorian Swag
6. I Saw Your Nanny (it's an occupational hazard...)
7. Michelle of Southern Ambition
8. Tex & Coda of The Coolest Kids in Town
9. The Virginity Project
10. So Midwestern (@somidwestern)
11. Hilarity In Shoes (@hilarity_shoes)
12. Kit of Blogging Dangerously
13. This Fish Needs a Bicycle
14. Jordan of Classy from North to South
15. Emily of Clothes Over Bros

So go find some new blogs! And make your own awards!

A Feminist in Love

During Homecoming, I had a chance to hang out and catch up with one of my favorite Delta Nus.* Last time I celebrated Homecoming with her, we were both in Paris... Those were the days.

Megan:* So, tell me the truth, BV. Have you imagined yourself as BV Smith* yet?

Me: (starts laughing) No, of course not!

Megan: What? You're moving to the Midwest next year, and you haven't even thought about it?

Me: Oh, I've daydreamed about marrying him, but it's not as though I'm going to take my husband's name when I get married. What kind of feminist do you think I am?

Megan: (starts laughing) I love you, BV. You're such a badass.

I've never been called a badass before. A priss, a prep, a goody-two-shoes, a role model, a lesbian, a leader, the spirit of Delta Nu, a slut, a teacher's pet, Peter Pan, an overachieving perfectionist, a princess... but never a badass before. I was flattered, to say the least. Pleased enough to relate the conversation to my mom.

Me: And then she called me a badass! Pretty cool, huh, Mom?

Mom: (laughs) You know, while you were telling me your story, I thought to myself, 'Gosh, BV Smith doesn't really have a nice ring to it.' But then immediately I reassured myself, before you even said it, 'Well, it's not like BV will ever take her husband's name anyway.'

My mom knows me so well.

*Does anyone even read the footnotes anymore? Obviously, fake names, fake sorority.

Virgin Myths: Virgins Dress Conservatively

Cherries graphic via

I've decided to tackle some of the stereotypes or myths about virgins. Each myth I've faced in my own life will be featured in its own post. I've thought about creating a scale from Never to Always, but the truth of it is, every man and woman is different. For every myth that isn't true for me or even for my friends, it could be true for someone else.

So, without any further ado, let's tackle our first stereotype!!!

Myth Number One: Virgins dress conservatively.

Let me tell you a little story about my days in undergrad. I was a sorority girl, and a fairly typical one at that. Very perky, involved with philanthropy, supportive of Panhellenic and Interfraternity Council, pearl-wearing, and very representative of Delta Nu*.

One of the fun things Delta Nu did was senior wills. Seniors passed down family heirlooms (like from great-grand-big to great-grand-little), varied Delta Nu things that younger girls might want (like old function tee-shirts or decorated picture frames), and super-cool, highly-coveted, very random objects with significance attached to them.

One of these objects was a stolen Hooters mug.

My freshman year, it was passed down from Kylie* to Casey* because “Casey had big boobs and loved them.” My sophomore year it was passed down to Becca* because “Becca didn't have much, but she absolutely loved what she had.”

My junior year, Becca stood at the front of chapter with her assorted senior wills. She held up the Hooter's mug and gave a brief history behind it. As she toyed with us, not revealing the recipient, about half the chapter turned to look at me. And... I just happened to be wearing one of my most low-cut dresses.

Finally Becca announced that yes, in fact, she was willing the Hooters mug to me. Not only was I the best-endowed member of my sorority, but I loved my boobs more than anyone else.

I ended up willing the mug down to my Little after she told me that my comfort with my body inspired her to wear tighter-fitting and more-revealing clothing. I was so proud.

In other words, no, not all virgins dress conservatively.

MYTH POPPED!

*Not their real names.