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This is the last secret I have: I was a virgin until I was 27 years old. I had been dating my now-husband for about a month before I jumped into bed with him, but I never admitted to him that I was a virgin.
I haven’t lied to my husband, Andrew (not his real name. Andrew is the DILF that lives across the street from us in suburbia), other than by omission. He just assumes that I had some sexual partners in the past and I’ve never corrected him. My big secret birthed itself when I started lying to other people.
When I turned 25 and I was still a virgin, it became a BIG DEAL to me. As in: lying awake at nights wondering if a super jumbo tampon would be enough to break my hymen so I could hide any evidence that a man part hadn’t made its way into my woman part.
At 25, I didn’t have a boyfriend. My other friends had lost their virginity a decade ago. For some reason, I thought ‘VIRGIN’ was stamped on my forehead and during a never-have-I-ever drinking game with my closest girlfriends, I panicked and pretended that I had lost my virginity in grad school to some quasi-boyfriend with a beard and a faux-hawk. My friends didn’t press me for details. The expression on their faces told me that this would never be brought up again.
I met Andrew a few months after turning 27. At that point my sexual experience was one hand job and 15 years of masturbating. I didn’t know Andrew would be my husband, but I had a good feeling about him, and a month into dating, I let him have the honor. I was way too embarrassed to be the last virgin on earth so I never said a word to him. We had dinner at Denny’s (for real) before the deflowering, and during the mediocre (bad) sex, his dog sat outside the bedroom clawing at the door. Everything was anti-climactic (literally).
Afterward, I immediately went to the bathroom to see if I looked any different.
Three years later, a month before our wedding date, I wondered if I should gift (burden?) him with the knowledge that he was the only one. Would that terrify him? Thrill him? Honesty was best, right? In my uncertainty, and since I couldn’t consult with my closest friends, who all thought I lost my V-card years ago with bearded dude, I returned to an old favorite back-up advice giver: Yahoo Answers.
Yahoo Answers is where members of the public can give advice and answer questions posted by strangers. I typed a carefully worded question about the magical coincidence of losing my virginity to my soon-to-be husband and the possibility of telling him on our wedding night. The answers poured in:
“People lose their virginity every day. You aren’t special in that regard, sweetheart.”
“If you had waited longer than a month I’d believe you when you said that you were ‘waiting’ for the right guy, but since you gave it up so quick I’d think you wanted to lose it quick and are now trying to pass it off as a love story.”
“He won’t believe you because you never mentioned it before AND you didn’t make him wait that long.”
Some commenters commended me for waiting so long and others chastised me. Everyone had an opinion. Making the decision to tell the truth wasn’t helped by soliciting the opinion of the general public. When the night of our wedding rolled around, I was bone tired. We had perfunctory sex, I shoveled a few handfuls of wedding cake in my mouth, and passed out in a pile of checks and opened envelopes.
It’s not like I have other secrets from my husband. I’ve told him about my depression and cutting and he’s witnessed the rocky relationship I have with my mom. On one of our first dates, we were binge watching "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and I was laying on him half asleep when I farted. Yes, I farted on him. I've also had my period on his sheets, and on our honeymoon in Mexico, I contracted traveler's diarrhea. I am a woman that isn’t afraid to show her husband the ugly.
So why is this a secret? The weight and value of female virginity attracts so many opinions and rules and dictates that it’s overwhelming. I was a 27-year-old virgin, but not by choice. I wanted to lose it and I did, with someone I love, and coincidentally, the same someone I ended up marrying. Yes, I was waiting for someone special, but what if we had simply dated and broken up? What kind of ending would my virginity story have now?
The pressure to wait, the pressure to have sex, the pressure to have an acceptable version of what transpired when you give your virginity away, is too much. The truth, while simpler, is much harder for me.
I recently had a discussion with Andrew about his "number." He admitted to four, with me being the fifth. He had mainly serious girlfriends, and one "unknown." I was sure that he’d turn the question back to me and maybe that was what I wanted deep down. But he never did and the moment passed. The past is the past in Andrew’s eyes.
Until the right moment comes, I'm holding onto my secret. When I tell him, I’m sure it won’t go as planned, just like me being married at 24 or having four kids and a rich doctor husband didn’t go as planned. But in the end, I think it’ll be alright.
Being an ex-virgin isn’t that big of a deal, and neither is being a virgin. I’m just waiting for the right moment, like always.