How I'm "Finding My Virginity"

Confession: My blog is no longer “Confessions of a Virgin.” Not because Beau and I have had coitus—we’re still unwedded, and thus unbedded, in at least once sense of the word. Nor did I change my blog title because I want my writing to be less confessional and more typical.

I am constantly evolving as a person—as a Christian, as a feminist, as a bibliophile, as a girlfriend, as a writer. My blog thus evolves with me. I started by writing mostly about virginity. I expanded a bit to include stories of online dating. I added feminist issues. I started writing book reviews. The central focus of my blog is still virginity, but writing about all these other topics provides context to my own virginity.

From when I was a debutante. Photographer information available upon request.

Virginity is a social construct. I’m aware of that. As a social construct, virginity is tied into sexual purity which is an arbitrary measure of goodness which conservative societies regularly use to control women while enforcing heternormative beliefs. But healthy conversations about virginity can be had, and even a Christian/other religious approach to virginity can be healthy, depending on how we discuss it.

To an extent, the Christian ideals from my childhood and adolescence shape some of my ideas on my own virginity. When my mom gave me “the talk,” she included the Christian perspective of saving sex for marriage. The Christian organization I attended all four years of undergrad—and served in the leadership group my sophomore and junior years—gave sermon series on dating, relationships, sex, and marriage every three years (so autumn of my freshman and senior years). Considering how conservative most of the members were, and the parent Protestant denomination, the sermons themselves were fairly relatable and borderline-egalitarian.

But I also took “Feminist Biblical Interpretation” my senior year, and my senior seminar for my history major was “History on the Margins,” which looked at marginalized peoples during Early Modern Europe. Both of these classes provided a wealth of historical and cultural context to the ideals of virginity until marriage.

Add that to my personal examination of how I feel about sex, all of it. I have literally been questioning my personal beliefs—how I would treat sex in my own life, not how I feel about other people’s choices—for about ten years now. For a very long time my evolving thoughts were theoretical, because I had yet to meet a man with whom I even desired to have sex. Obviously the theoretical became the practical when I met Beau.

I’ve been blogging for a year and a half now, during which I’ve enjoyed a variety of non-coital activities with Beau. That said, I started this blog the day after our first date, after spending months thinking about sharing my “virginal” experiences in some sort of anonymous fashion. Some of my decisions on what I can and cannot do in bed before marriage have changed during the course of our relationship. This doesn’t make me a hypocrite—this makes me human.

I’ve seen the phrase “choices aren’t made in a vacuum” oft-repeated in online feminist discussions. I’m not afraid or ashamed to admit that my desire to wait until marriage to experience coitus with my husband is largely influenced by my religious upbringing. I can make this decision for myself without believing that premarital sexual activity is a sin.

I’m also aware that by calling myself a virgin, I’m partly accepting virginity as a real thing, beyond a social construct. And by drawing the line at coitus,* which can technically only happen between a man and a woman, I’m perpetuating heteronormative beliefs, even though I’m a bisexual woman.

I acknowledge this has been a long-ish and convoluted blog post. It mirrors my journey of discovering what sex and virginity mean in my own life. My journey has been (and continues to be) how I find my virginity.

Hence my new blog title.

This is me, Belle Vierge, 

the demi-vierge,  

Finding My Virginity.

*Beau pointed out that we’ve also drawn the line at anal sex, but it’s not a line we ever intend to cross. TOTALLY fine for other couples if both parties are enthusiastic about the idea, but I have Crohn’s Disease. That part of my body will forever be associated with all Crohnie activities.

You have read this article Crohn's / dating / family / feminism / love / marriage / religion / sexuality with the title sexuality. You can bookmark this page URL https://myclosetnadinesh.blogspot.com/2013/03/how-i-my-virginity.html. Thanks!

Stand Up, Take Action: A Guest Post

Yesterday was International Women's Day, and March is Women's History Month (at least in the States). Women have come a long way in our quest for equality, and some might argue (incorrectly) that we're already there. As much progress as we've made, sexual violence against women, largely by men, is still a problem worldwide. American society has improved in taking rape seriously, but as a whole, we still dismiss sexual assault that falls short of rape. 

Every time I have opened up about my own sexual assaults, another friend confides in me about her own experiences. One of them has asked to share her story, on the condition of anonymity.

Just under two years ago, I was almost raped. I was 21, spending the summer in a foreign country. I was at a party with both Americans and foreigners. I was drunk, so I went upstairs to sleep it off. I’m not sure how long I was asleep, but the next thing I knew, I woke up with one of the Americans with on top of me, with his tongue shoved down my throat, his hands exploring my body. I was drunk and disoriented, but I managed to throw him off of me. I was so shocked that I just went back downstairs. I don’t (can’t) think about what may have happened had I not woken up at that exact moment. I didn’t say anything that night—though I did tell a few of my friends in confidence a few days later (they were sort of in disbelief; they didn’t know really how to think, or react). Not that I can blame them—I didn’t know how to react either. I didn’t report the incident because I didn’t want to start drama (how fucked up is that?) Perhaps what is even more fucked up is the could-have-been repercussions. What if I had been raped, and could not access Plan B (or the country’s equivalent?) I don’t even know if one can access it over the counter there! What if I hadn’t been able to access Plan B and I had gotten pregnant (well, I guess then it wouldn’t have been a legitimate rape, right Todd Akin)? What if I would not have been able to access an abortion? Thankfully, none of these things happened to me, but these are issues that women who are raped face. Every. Single. Day.

When I was 17, I was still a kissing-virgin.  I wanted my first kiss so badly. As a teenage girl you are taught that your worth is determined by your sex appeal (and seriously, what high school student has sex appeal--so disgusting). In addition, I had tons of body insecurities all throughout high school—I was very athletic and was frequently teased to the point of bullying about my “manliness” (and therefore lack of sex appeal). Anyway, as inexperienced as I was, I was desperate for any sort of action. The opportunity came along, and I found myself alone in a hot tub with a guy I had known since freshman year. It was sort of like a movie; we got closer and closer until our lips touched and our tongues intertwined. (And for the record, the kiss sucked—I have never experienced a more awkward, dispassionate form of affection). However, the next thing I knew, he had pulled me onto his lap, he was massaging my clitoris through my swimsuit, and he was feeling me up like I was some sort of stuffed doll. That was my first ever sexual encounter. I have never felt more violated (until I the incident abroad when I was 21), and though it happened six years ago, it still affects me.

I always knew I didn’t like what had happened between that guy and me in the hot tub when I was 17. What is even more sad is that I didn’t even know it was sexual assault until I took a Women’s Studies class my senior year of college (I will forever be grateful for that class). I thought I “deserved what I got” when I was 17. I had kissed him, so therefore I had led him on, so therefore he was allowed to do whatever he wanted to me (because society believes that men should not be held responsible for their sexual urges and actions). Because the kiss was consensual, he was therefore allowed to feel me up and fondle my vagina (again, you can’t hold men accountable). The clitoral stimulation, as badly as I didn’t want it happening, technically “turned me on.” Have you ever heard the question: “If a woman orgasms during rape (or sexual assault), then was it actually rape? She must have wanted it.” (In case you were wondering, I didn’t orgasm during this encounter, and the answer to that question is YES, women [and men] can, in fact, involuntarily orgasm during rape. It is STILL rape or sexual assault). Finally, I was wearing a bikini. You know that men cannot control their dicks (penises have their own brains) so, because I was dressed so “provocatively,” I was clearly “asking for it.” As for almost being raped when I was 21; well, let’s be honest: I was drunk, and therefore put myself in a vulnerable situation. If I didn’t want to be raped or sexually assaulted, I should have stayed home (because women belong in the home). I should not have been drinking (because bad things can happen to women who drink). Finally, I definitely should not have been wearing a dress in 100+ degree weather—I was clearly “asking for it” because I was dressed way too “provocatively.”

Now, you may think that all of these reasons I just listed are ridiculous—I agree with you. But unfortunately these are the arguments used against women. Every. Single. Day. This is called slut-shaming or victim-blaming, and it’s an aspect of rape culture. It’s nothing new. If a woman is raped, it’s “her fault” because of the way she was dressed, because she was drunk, because she was walking alone at night, because she danced with someone on the dance floor (she was clearly turning him on and asking for more). God forbid a man would be held responsible for his CHOICE to rape or sexually assault an innocent woman or girl. It sucks that, even after all of this time, I STILL question and doubt everything about myself, because society STILL blames me for the actions men. (Ever heard, “Well, she should have kept her legs closed,” or “She was such a slut because she wore a short skirt,” or “Well, she was asking to get raped in that outfit”).

Guess what readers: I can assure you that I was not, “asking for it.” I didn’t kiss the guy in the hot tub expecting him to violate my body. I didn’t go out in a foreign country with my friends with the intentions of being almost raped. I didn’t put on a swim suit and think, “What will a guy’s penis think if it sees me in this? Will penises be able to control themselves?”  No woman ASKS to be raped or sexually assaulted. Ever.

I never reported either one of my sexual assaults (the vast majority of rapes and sexual assaults go unreported, because many people don’t know much about it, or don’t know how to do it!) However, I shouldn’t have felt like I was “starting drama” or “gossiping” by reporting my sexual assaults or confiding in friends (and family) I thought I could trust. I didn’t deserve to have some of my friends take it light-heartedly; I didn’t deserve to have one of my parents tell me, “Well, that’s what guys do,” and I didn’t deserve condescending judgments from my counselor.  

Most of all, I didn’t deserve to be sexually assaulted. Not because I was drunk. Not because I was wearing a dress. Not because I was wearing a swimsuit. Not because I had voluntarily kissed a guy in a hot tub. No one EVER deserves to be raped or sexually assaulted. And it has taken me over five years to come to these realizations.  Because, “telling men they just can’t help themselves not only drives home the point that women’s sexuality is unnatural, but also sets up a disturbing dynamic in which women are expected to be responsible for men’s sexual behavior,” (Valenti 2009).

For five years, I have questioned my worth as a woman and as a person (though perhaps the two go hand-in-hand) because of these sexual assaults. For five years, I have had an extremely hard time committing to relationships. For five years, I have feared men. And that’s not fair, because most men are not rapists. In fact, only approximately 6% of men are rapists (which is shocking, because approximately 1 in 4 women are sexually assaulted in their lifetime.) This means that these men commit multiple rapes or assaults. And like 95% of rape and assault victims, I knew both of my “attackers.” Many people picture rape or sexual assault as something that happens to young, white, chaste, Christian girls who are brutally sodomized or gang-raped. However, sexual assault and rape is so much more common than that (one of feminists’ biggest accomplishments was establishing that spousal rape does in fact, exist).
   
Modern-day feminists strive to deconstruct and eliminate rape culture, as well as de-stigmatize rape and sexual assault. I have always been a feminist, but didn’t become active until my revelations. It’s pretty awful that feminism is now considered by many to be a “dirty word” (because it’s far from that). I hope that as I heal from these traumas, I can help other women and girls in my life. To achieve this, I educate myself more thoroughly on the subjects. I also research and tweet important, key articles. I will advocate that sexual assault & consent be taught in schools, and become a crucial aspect of comprehensive sex education. (As I stated before, it took me five years and a college-level Women’s Studies class to realize that I was sexually assaulted twice, and that what had happened to me was NOT my fault). Not that this is any excuse, but many people simply just do not know what constitutes rape, sexual assault, or consent. By adding this into school curriculum, I know that the number of sexual assaults will drastically drop.

Remember, 1 in 4 or 5 women is sexually assaulted in their lifetime. Think about that next time you are scrolling through your Facebook friends. The next time you hear someone promoting rape culture, speak up. The next time you hear someone call someone else a slut or a whore, tell them to choose another word, and educate them about what they know. If you see that your school district is teaching Abstinence Only Education, go to your school board.

Side note: “Abstinence-only education programs have received more than $1.3 billion in funding since 1996,” (Valenti 2009). The average teenager loses his or her virginity at 17; whether or not they are educated on birth control does not make a difference on when someone starts having sex. Young people (all people, really), “deserve accurate and comprehensive sex education not just because they are going to have sex, but because there is nothing wrong with having sex,” (Valenti 2009).

So, readers, I urge you to Stand Up, Take Action, and help to protect all the women (and men) in your life, so they don’t have to live with the stigma of sexual assault. Because as Americans, living in a country we where women are “supposed to” be seen as “naturally nonsexual and men as innately ravenously sexual sets up a dangerous model that allows for sexual violence. […] Sexuality should be—as Millar says—the presence of a “yes,” and not the absence of a “no,” (Valenti 2009).

Works Cited:

Valenti Jessica. (2009). Purity Myth: How America’s Obsession with Virginity Is Hurting Young Women. Berkley, CA, USA: Seal Press.

You have read this article consent / feminism / friends / guest post / rape / sexuality / victim-blaming with the title sexuality. You can bookmark this page URL https://myclosetnadinesh.blogspot.com/2013/03/stand-up-take-action-guest-post.html. Thanks!

My Boobs Have Nothing to Do with You

According to twitter, clearly the world’s authority on everything ever, today is Cleavage Appreciation Day. Obviously some women have gotten really into it, tweeting shots of their cleavage (or even just their bra-clad boobs), with the hashtag #CleavageAppreciationDay. Other women are pretty against it, and they’re calling out basically all women who show cleavage ever as 1) lacking self-respect 2) being desperate for attention and/or 3) acting slutty. Some men are all “Woo, boobs!” and some men are all, “How darest these harlots cause me to have sinful thoughts?”

This is a pretty clear example of a larger debate in American society. Hell, to an extent, it’s an example of a lifelong issue within Christianity. Women are either the Virgin or the Whore, and we are criticized heavily regardless of our choice.

But I’ve already discussed the prude/slut dichotomy. This post is about boobs, a companion piece of sorts to my previous rant on boob-shaming. If I write this correctly, I will somehow tie together my problem with the Church’s view on modesty, my support of female sexuality, rape culture, and body autonomy. All with pictures of my cleavage and pissed off indignation that some people have the audacity to think they know anything about me based on my aforementioned cleavage. 

Age 19, Delta Nu* Initiation Banquet. An outfit heavily criticized for showing "too much" cleavage.

I am not the first person to criticize “Modest is Hottest” and how the Church objectifies women under the guise of keeping men from sinful temptation. Nor will I be the last. Other people have said everything I feel already, with more eloquence. So for now, I’m just going to summarize my personal experiences and feelings on it.

The first time I ever really felt like an object… The first time I ever felt like my body was more important than my personality… The firstsecond time I ever felt ashamed of my breasts… The first time I ever felt like maybe sin was completely impossible to stop…

Was when I hit puberty later than most teenage girls, and developed large breasts that kept growing & growing…

And some “well-meaning” individuals… Some hypocritical individuals… My controlling twin brother…

All thought it was their place to criticize my dress for its lack of modesty and to point out how distracting my newly-large breasts were to teenage boys.

Just for the record, my personal style didn’t change all that much from when I was 14 to when I was 18. I started wearing ribbed tank tops when I was 15, a staple I still wear all summer long. I wore the same kinds of clothes with an A-cup as I did with a B-cup, and a C-cup, and a D-cup, and later on, a DD-cup, just in bigger sizes. My activities didn’t change—I still danced, and starred in community theatre, and outperformed most of my classmates academically, and attended church every week, and refused to drink or smoke, and read books all the time, and crushed on the same guy I’d liked since the 8^th grade.

I don’t know which teenage boys “stumbled in their walk” because I developed large breasts, but I can assure you, I received the same lack of attention from guys that I had always received. I continued to be everyone’s friend and no one’s romantic interest.

But thanks to all these so-called Christians, I felt objectified. Guess what. I felt that way because they were objectifying me.

But hey, at least the Church has its reasons for controlling anything sexual. The Church believes that premarital sex is a sin (I don’t), and obviously, many Christians are thus going to advocate against all things sexy.

What I don’t understand are the men and women who are happily engaging in premarital sexual activity but lambasting women as sluts. 

Age 21, at a bar during spring break. I had kissed a grand total of four men at this point, but... My boobs are bigger than yours. Does that make me a slut?

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Haven’t we been over this? A woman who reveals more skin than you arbitrarily find appropriate is NOT A SLUT. In fact, a slut is not a real thing. A slut is a word we throw at women who have made choices we don’t like.

Age 22, at the debutante ball, in a floor-length gown. This would have been totally modest during some time periods--my ankles were covered! Hello, arbitrary standard of skin.

Hey, twitter, how would y’all feel if I started calling any and all of you who have had more than one sexual partner a bunch of SLUTS?

You’d be pissed off. I just arbitrarily decided on a standard that deviates from my choices, and I decided that standard equals SLUT.

By calling a woman a slut based on her clothes, you are doing two things. 1) You are equating clothing with sexual choices 2) You are saying women don’t have sexual choices.

So stop that.

Now.

Do I really need to spell out how this all contributes to rape culture? Yes? Fine, then. By holding women to a certain standard of dress and/or sexual freedom, you are saying that any woman who deviates from that standard is thus culpable for her rape.

Age 22, pre-gaming a night out in Paris. Guess what. I wore short-shorts, and sexy red heels, and a low-cut top, and make-up, and no one sexually assaulted me!

My last point is perhaps the most difficult to articulate, mainly because I see both sides of the issue.

On the one hand, the media constantly objectifies women and treats them as sexual beings just ready for a man to enjoy at his leisure. On this hand, girls and women constantly receive the message that to matter, they must be sexy. On this same hand, some women will dress in an intentionally provocative way because they equate self-worth with attention from men.

ON THE OTHER HAND. Not all women have been completely brainwashed by our culture’s obsession with sex. Some of us (MOI) love our bodies. Some of us (MOI) love our boobs. Some of us have enough self-confidenceto spare, and our self-confidence stems from our personalities, NOT our bodies. (Again, that would be MOI).

I love my body (when it’s healthy), at all sizes. I love my brains. I love my sense of humor. I love my passion for gender equality. I love my legs. I love my French-inspired fashion (I wear a lot of black, white, and gray). I love my boobs. I love my friends. I love how I’m (slowly) decorating my apartment. I love my job. I love my boyfriend.

When I’m getting dressed in the morning, I don’t have the single thought “How can I be sexually attractive to men?” but rather “How can this outfit reflect everything I love about my life?”

So I take offense at the implication that just because I’m rocking some hot cleavage, I lack self-respect.

I know this is hard to believe, but my boobs have nothing to do with you. My cleavage is not on display for you. Your opinion of my boobs is irrelevant. 

All right, readers. I want to hear from y'all. How do you feel about boobs and cleavage?

*Totally my fake sorority.

You have read this article advice / beauty / blog readers / BOOBS / cleavage / consent / feminism / France / friends / prude / rape / sexuality / slut / stereotypes / twin brother / victim-blaming with the title sexuality. You can bookmark this page URL https://myclosetnadinesh.blogspot.com/2013/01/my-boobs-have-nothing-to-do-with-you.html. Thanks!

Five Myths About Women Who Love Sex: A Guest Post

Y'all, I become so excited whenever someone offers to write a guest post for me! Melissa Messer contacted me ages ago, but preoccupied me didn't get around to accepting her offer until just last week.

Melissa is a freelance contributor to The Dating Website who is dangerously close to being a college graduate. Her native habitat includes an ample coffee supply, a collection of scarves, and headphones pumping an endless supply of music into her ears.
 

Melissa is writing from the nonvirgin perspective on life, and I'm thrilled she chose to share her viewpoint!

Now, I can’t for a second say that this was an easy post to write. Ladies who openly love sex are still somewhat of an anomaly in today’s world, and God forbid you live in a country where simply having sex outside of marriage is grounds for murder. In more progressive places, life is easier for women, but female promiscuity still tends to bring out nasty streaks in people's personalities. Even while writing this, I am somewhat fearful of the comments I may receive. I’ll admit though, that I’m no longer ashamed of the truth: there are women in this world who love sex. Not because of anything associated with it, not the power or the attention, but just because of the fact that sex can be one of the most amazing things you’ll ever experience. How you choose to go about it should be entirely up to each woman in the world (and man, for that matter!). I’m sick to death of the stigma and hushed tones that our mothers and grandmothers were forced to associate with sex. My own mother, bless her heart, still regards the whole topic as one she “doesn’t want to talk about.”

So, as Belle has been kind enough to allow me to share my opinion on women who love sex with you lovely readers of Confessions of a Virgin, I declare that I’ve had enough. Let’s talk about this out in the open like adults. Let’s dispel some of the myths associated with women who unabashedly love sex.

Slutwalks UK

1. A woman who loves sex is a slut.

Society has trouble exactly defining what a “slut” is, but what I seem to be able to gather from the babble are several definitions. One is that a slut is someone who equates sex with power. Sluts, then, don’t seem to be actually interested in sex. They just want the power that they gain from it. Slut also seems to be a girl who has sex to make up for her insecurities by using sex to either gain or keep the interest of men. Again, these women don’t necessarily love sex—they just want the attention and power that it brings them.

However, I’d go so far as to say that since the world can’t seem to tell me what a “slut” actually is, sluts don’t actually exist except as a term to attempt to demean women. It’s the equivalent of calling someone a “cotton-headed ninnymuggins.” It’s nonsense. Calling someone a slut says way more about the one doing the calling than it does the perceived slut, and I vote we get rid of this silliness once and for all.

2. Obviously, because she loves sex, she wants to have it with me RIGHT NOW.

Just a reminder, everyone, nobody is entitled to have sex with you, or anyone else for that matter. This mindset is awful and deplorable. The world we live in is gradually changing its views on the promiscuity of women (and on that note, why can’t we talk about the promiscuity of men??), but there are still some people in the world who believe that a woman who loves sex will have it with anybody who glances her way. This just isn’t true.

3. Women who love sex need to have it all the time. You’re wrong. Women with standards and a deep love of themselves don’t necessarily feel the need to bed every single man they see. It’s not always about arbitrarily having sex. Sure, sometimes a wild night with a near stranger is just what you’re looking for. And for some women, that might be all they ever need. But liking sex and needing sex aren’t intrinsically the same.

4. Sex without love isn’t meaningful.

Here’s a polarizing myth. Everyone seems to have their own personal opinion on this, which is fine and dandy. Personally, I disagree. Love is possible without sex, right? Why can you not have sex without love, then? In my experience, it’s possible to have sex with respect for yourself and your partner, and just indulge in the physical and often times emotional pleasure that can come with the experience. Granted, I have also found that sex with a man whom I do love is more meaningful than any hookup, but that doesn’t necessarily negate every experience to the point of lost meaning for every hookup prior.

5. Women who love sex have every disease ever. All of them. 

There are millions of women without access to basic reproductive rights and care in this world. It would be pretty silly not to take advantage of the rights you are lucky enough to have. For me, that means ALWAYS using two forms of protection unless I'm in a long term relationship. I love my local Planned Parenthood for their professionalism and judgement-free environment, and I head there for my checkups and birth control. I'm happy to say being this careful has allowed me to stay perfectly safe and healthy.

You have read this article birth control / feminism / guest post / love / Planned Parenthood / sexuality / slut / stereotypes with the title sexuality. You can bookmark this page URL https://myclosetnadinesh.blogspot.com/2012/11/five-myths-about-women-who-love-sex.html. Thanks!

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.

Last Friday, I went to a sex shop for the first time ever (and then applied to work there). Naturally, I tweeted about the experience before blogging about it. The reaction was... mixed, to say the least.

Some friends thought this was a brilliant idea. Like me, they thought it would provide great inspiration for my blog.

Or like me, they thought sex toys were a positive thing for women to enjoy, either with or without a partner.

Some friends thought I should I admit my sexual experiences make me less than virginal.

And others questioned if I'm honestly a virgin at all.

I might not have enjoyed the entire discussion, and at one point, so many followers were jumping in that I could no longer keep up with my timeline. 

But. 

Not only was it eye-opening, but it proved that there is an ongoing need for my blog, with all my thoughts on sex and virginity.

There is still a prevailing attitude that virginity means the exact same thing for everyone.

If we can't agree on the definition of sex, then how can anyone expect us to agree on virginity? 

Which brings me back to my first point. 

Does it even matter?

Sexuality is incredibly personal. Yet, for whatever reason (I'm blaming patriarchy), sex is very much in the public eye. Between those trying to control sex and those trying to exploit sex, anyone trying to figure out their sexuality on their own has public pressure adding to their confusion.

To anyone in the gray zone between sex and virginity, to anyone like me, this is my advice.

It's your body, your experiences, you sexuality, your label.

I started this blog before I had ever owned a vibrator, or seen a man naked, or participated in skype sex. I guess you could say I was "more virginal" when I started this blog than I am today. 

The boyfriend and I have drawn our line at coitus, or PIV sex. We're saving that for marriage. Until then, we'll both refer to ourselves as virgins, because we can, but we also both know the label no longer matters.

At the end of the day, we're a young couple in love, and we're making choices about our relationship based on our own happiness, not anyone else's.

You have read this article documentary / feminism / friends / How to Lose Your Virginity / love / making out / marriage / masturbation / personal post / sexuality / stereotypes with the title sexuality. You can bookmark this page URL https://myclosetnadinesh.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-sexiest-virgins-alive.html. Thanks!