Which of These Songs Should Play When I "Lose" My Virginity? (Kidding)

Today, we're supposed to share songs that mean something to us. I'd rather share my favorite songs about virginity and/or virginity "loss."

"Like a Virgin" Glee cover

The actual performance is phenomenal, but Glee has been really good/obnoxious about getting videos removed from youtube.

"Only the Good Die Young," Billy Joel

My mom had to explain to me that this was a song about Billy Joel seducing a Catholic virgin. I had no idea. I was in high school when she told me this.

"Touch Myself," Divinyls

Because sometimes the best love is self-love.

"Strawberry Wine," Deanna Carter

I love this song. I also had no idea it alluded to a teenage girl's first time.

"Fifteen," Taylor Swift

Technically, only the line about Abigail is potentially about virginity "loss." But I love me some Taylor Swift, so I had to include it!

Inspiration for this post brought to you by Libby, an intern at How to Lose Your Virginity, and her post here.

Vote for my wedding night song in the comments! It will have zero effect on my actual wedding night, but it's fun anyway.

To Thine Own Self Be True

I'm almost done writing Saturday's post. I jumped ahead, because it looks like a nice and easy short prompt. But then I got stuck trying to make it pretty, and gargh, I'm so frustrated. This whole blogging every day is HARD, y'all.

I have so much advice, y'all. Like learn a second language. Try new things. Only engage in consensual sexual behavior. Visit Paris.

But I want to offer more general advice, for all people, at any age, in any stage of life.

What's so cool about literature is how open to interpretation it is. Shakespeare wrote "To thine own self be true" in Hamlet, through the voice of Polonius, speaking to his son Laertes. (Yes, I googled all of this).

My interpretation is this:

Be honest with yourself. Saving coitus for marriage is an arbitrary line along a sexual spectrum, but saving a sexual experience for only my husband is important to me.

Do your own thing. I blog about virginity.

Listen to the counsel of others, but then make your own decisions. My youth pastor in undergrad said masturbation is a sexual sin. I prayed about it. I disagree.

Don't compare yourself to others. Everyone has so many more readers than I do... It's hard to follow my own advice sometimes.

Celebrate your uniqueness. I haven't found another blog that focuses on sexy virginity.

Acknowledge your sameness. We all just want to change the world and connect with other people through our writing.

Never lose sight of who you are. According to Beau, I'm perfect. ♥

What advice do you have for me?

Story of My Virginity

The first thing I should say is I don't read Jenni's blog Story of My Life. The second thing I should say is that while I LOVE her challenge to focus on writing and not on stupid stuff, I almost always do the former and not the latter. Which would be why I only update about once a week. The third (and final!) thing I should say is that I have no intention of blogging every day, but participating in this might motivate me to blog more.

Jess and Casey both linked up for this, which is how I discovered it. I liked the challenge, but me being me, I decided to refocus the topic a bit. Make it more moi. So instead of writing 250 words on the story of my life, I give you 250 words on the story of my virginity.

I was nine when I first started thinking about sex. All I knew about sex was that a grown-up penis and a grown-up vagina touched each other. I imagined the penis nestled between the folds of the vagina like a hot dog in a bun.

I was ten or eleven when my mom gave H and me the “talk.” I still thought the idea of French-kissing was gross, and saving sex for marriage seemed like a great idea. You would have to be in love to do something that gross.

I was seventeen when I first wondered about maybe having sex before marriage. Primarily because I was flirting a lot with this guy, who I knew was a non-virgin. I still thought premarital sex was a sin, but I justified my reasoning by thinking of all the other sins that I committed constantly. Like lying and swearing. Having sex before marriage wasn’t any worse!

I was seventeen when I had my first orgasm.

I was nineteen when I had my first kiss, which turned into a steamy make-out session that included some below-the-waist touching (my waist, his touch). I spent the next month praying for forgiveness.

I was twenty-one when I took “Feminist Biblical Interpretation” and wondered if I should save sex for love, not marriage.

I forget my age when I returned to my original stance of saving sex for marriage, but this time, with the understanding that premarital sex wasn’t a sin.

And now I blog about virginity!

I came in at exactly 250 words. Aka I'm awesome.

Consent: A Definition

Remember that one time, I wrote a post on consent, and I promised to write more on consent, like how consent can be sexy, and then I never did?

Yeah, sorry about that. Life happened? I was distracted by other blog ideas? I wrote posts that were timely with current events?

Speaking of current events, consent should be a timeless idea, but in the Steubenville aftermath, and to honor Sexual Assault Awareness Month, bringing it up again seems especially appropriate.

Confession: My observations of the political and social climate in the States are clouded by my identity as a feminist. (Shocking revelation, I know).

I spend a borderline-obsessive amount of time educating myself on the gender pay gap (it exists, but whining about 77 cents on the dollar makes you look like an uninformed idiot), following proposed and enacted anti-choice legislation seeking to limit women’s reproductive health (I then inform Beau of states where we cannot live one day, like North Dakota), and studying sexual assault (the prevalence, the perpetrators, the different forms, societal causes, etc.).

One of the most encouraging trends I’ve noticed in the last year is the appearance, at least, of more people calling for a change in rape prevention. The trendy feminist thing to say is “Don’t teach women not to get raped. Teach men not to rape.” Campaigns include Men Can Stop Rape and Don’t BeThat Guy.

From the new bystander intervention campaign.

One of the most discouraging trends I’ve noticed, however, is the

CAUTION: ANGRY FEMINIST HULKING OUT. SKIP TO BELOW IF YOU ARE AN EASILY OFFENDED MAN.

Disgusting, whiny, misogynistic, uncaring attitude from waaaaaaaay too many men who are falling over themselves to see who can be the most obnoxious and privileged asshole of all time.

Not all men are rapists! I’m offended at the implication! No fucking duh. Look, feminists are a little tired of prefacing every conversation about rape with the disclaimer that we know most men aren’t rapists. But guess what. Most rapists are men. So if we’re gonna talk about rape, we gotta talk about men. GET OVER YOUR DAMN PRIVILEGE.

What, I have to get consent now every time I have sex? That’s absurd! What a mood-killer. You’re a fucking idiot who’s either a rapist or just really lousy in bed. If you can’t find a sexy way to get clear consent from your partner, YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG.

YOU MAY RESUME YOUR REGULAR, INOFFENSIVE READING.

Or, more nicely put, one of the most discouraging trends I’ve noticed is when some men don’t understand what feminists are trying to do and thus lash out with irrational fear.

The Sexiest Virgins Alive

Twitterverse is obsessed with Mean Girls. The world stops whenever it's on television, and I'm pretty sure all women aged 18 to 25 spontaneously orgasmed when Mean Girls finally became available on Netflix.

Sorry, that was a gender generalization, which I normally try really hard not to make.

Via nicomillionaire.tumblr.com

But as much as I see anons tweeting quotations from Mean Girls, I rarely see much discussion about what we can learn from the movie.

The definition of sex has become rather broad and often confusing in today's American culture. Even this asshole our former president doesn't seem to get it.

So what is sex? What is virginity? Does a definition even matter?

Well, no.

But our society is obsessed with it, and as a self-proclaimed virgin who blogs about sex, virginity, and everything in-between, I'm not exactly helping de-emphasize the "importance" of the distinction.

But I AM provoking discussion and sparking debate and challenging preconceived notions of virgins.

Losing My (Sex Shop) Virginity

I look hot tonight.

I’m wearing my new Rock Revival jeans, a nice little bonus I received from my boss this week. Topped with a simple black button-down (with gathered elastic over the bust!) and accessorized with red wedges & a red necklace. Plus I’m actually wearing a touch of make-up: my roommate and our friend Sue* worked magic on my eyes, which I complimented with a hint of lip gloss.

The purpose of looking hot?

Feeling old enough to go to a sex shop.

Legally, I’ve been old enough for… awhile, to say the least. But I didn’t fully embrace myself as a sexual being until I finished undergrad (and moved to France), and I didn’t embrace my attraction to women until about a year ago (after two years of kissing women in France). So the idea of going to a sex shop has honestly only crossed my mind once or twice before tonight.

Seriously, the thought of it used to make me blush and stammer and try to joke like I wasn’t shocked, but my friends always saw through me.

Tonight, though, tonight, I became a woman.

Tonight, I lost my (sex shop) virginity.

*happy dance*

SteampunkTink and Sue had plans to go after work today. I had nothing going on, so my roommate invited me to join them. They were almost as excited for my first time as I was!

Confession: My sex shop virginity mirrored my real life virginity. As in, I had technically never been in a sex shop before tonight, but I had browsed a Good Vibrations catalog, researched different options at amazon, and, uh, enjoyed a toy or two or three.

A Virgin's Visit to Planned Parenthood

Before I left New York, I had one last very important thing to do: make an appointment at Planned Parenthood for a pap smear, a pelvic exam, and, most importantly, a prescription for birth control.

I've mentioned this need for the Pill before, way back in September. But changing pharmacies and states meant I couldn't transfer my prescription, so I had one blissful month on the Pill, with minimal cramps, before I returned to my normal debilitating pain. To get a new prescription required seeing a doctor, but I hate going to the doctor, and I was scared about facing my first gynecological exam. I kept putting it off, hoping my cramps would lessen each month, but they never did. So finally, the week before I moved to Toronto, I called Planned Parenthood and scheduled an appointment.

I have health insurance, but my network only includes doctors in my home state, except in the case of emergencies. Luckily for me, Planned Parenthood charges the uninsured based on our income. Unluckily for me, I still paid about half of what I earn in a week (well, half of what I earned before I received my raise for moving to Toronto).

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. Protesters waving brochures in my face, calling me a murderess, throwing pig's blood on my car? I've seen video footage and read firsthand accounts of how far extremists have gone outside clinics.

So... What If I'm A 'Technical Virgin'?

Something I've tried to emphasize in my blog is that virgins choose to wait for a variety of reasons. For example, Christians generally believe that premarital sex is a sin (although 80% of young, unmarried Christians are still engaging in it). Personally? I don't think it's a sin, but I've still chosen to abstain.

But abstain from what, exactly?

By choosing virginity for personal reasons and not for religious reasons, I also have the privilege of choosing how I define virginity. Since the majority of my experiences have been with men, and I have a boyfriend, not a girlfriend, I've taken a heteronormative view in defining what sex is—or rather, what sex will be—for me. Until I engage in sexual intercourse (with my husband, of course!), I will continue to call myself a virgin. However, I'm totally supportive of fellatio, cunnilingus, and masturbation,* solo or mutual. Just like I don't think premarital sexual intercourse is a sin, I don't think all the fun non-sex sex is a sin either.

That said, most of my virgin friends are saving themselves for religious reasons. They believe that premarital sex is a sin. And here is where the line becomes tricky.

If you're a devout Christian and proud to be a virgin, especially if you're currently in a relationship, then you might not like what I have to say.

Can my first time please involve choreography with "Like A Virgin" blasting in the background? No?

SPOILERS FOR GLEE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Confession.

I'm a total Gleek and proud of it.

Glee is everything I want in a TV series. Singing. Dancing. Lampshading (when a show pokes fun at itself). Characters actually aging and graduating high school.

Beyond that, I love how the characters start out as blatant stereotypes, but become more complex. Although Rachel was originally my favorite character—I totally identified with her—Santana is now my favorite by far. A bitchy, promiscuous cheerleader? Psh, like we haven't seen that before. Except, wait, she's hooking up with her best friend and fellow Cheerio Brittany? Just hot girl-on-girl action, right? Except, no, Santana is secretly a lesbian.

So awesome.

I also love how Glee handles sex, with only a few quibbling remarks. Virginity is addressed in multiple episodes, most notably in “The Power of Madonna,” “Duets,” and, most recently, “The First Time.”

As your foremost expert in virginity, having been one for twenty-something years and counting, I feel qualified to critique the way virginity—and losing virginity—is presented in Glee.

I hate:

That Emma equates female empowerment with having sex. That Will lets her.

That Santana doesn't think it's a big deal to take Finn's virginity. That Brittany doesn't think it's a big deal to take Artie's virginity. That the girls are both using sex as a means to get something.

That Artie thinks Rachel and Blaine are unrealistic as Maria and Tony because they're virgins. That Rachel and Blaine listen to him!

That Rachel is presented as crazy and unrealistic for wanting to wait until she's in her 20s to have sex.

That Rachel tries to prove Finn's special because she's giving him her virginity, a gift she can only give once.

That none of the characters who want their first time to be special wait til marriage.

I love:

That Will recognizes he was an asshole and apologizes to Emma.

That Finn regrets sleeping with Santana. That Brittany feels badly for how she treated Artie.

That choosing to have multiple partners doesn't make Santana and Brittany sluts anymore than Puck is considered a manwhore.

The scene when Rachel turns to the other girls for advice. The different perspectives each of them offer on choosing to have sex.

That Rachel sees her first time as giving her virginity to her boyfriend and not losing it to him.

That Blaine and Kurt's first time receive the same attention as Finn and Rachel's.

That both couples wait until they're in love. That Blaine and Finn don't pressure Kurt and Rachel into doing anything until they're ready. (Blaine's drunken scene aside).

That Blaine casually refers to masturbation as an alternative to his otherwise conservative sex life.

That we'll maybe see Emma and Will's first time be on their wedding night?

I'm not the only one who thinks Glee could have done a few things differently. Therese over at “How to Lose Your Virginity” has a great post on it, although with a fairly different perspective than I present.

I'll end with this. Sometimes sex is a big deal; sometimes it isn't. Sometimes losing your virginity is special and romantic and involves singing & dancing; sometimes it's fumbling in the back of your mom's car. At the end of the day, sex is a personal choice, and no one has the right to tell you otherwise. Overall, I think Glee does a good job of showing that people will try and interfere with your sex life, but at the end of the day, what you choose to do (or not do) with another person (or alone!) is up to you.

Me, I'm waiting til marriage for that final, crowning act, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy a variety of alternatives...