An Open Letter To The Guy Who Took My Virginity

An Open Letter To The Guy Who Took My Virginity.

Dear Deflowerer,

Losing your virginity is overrated. Everyone knows that, right? It’s awkward, painful and always disappointing. And to be honest I’m not a fan of how much of a big deal it is. I’m not going to go into how society uses it as a tool to try and control a woman’s sexuality, which they definitely do, but I am going to say it’s not a big deal. Anyone and everyone should do it how, when and with whoever’s help they want. If that means when you’re fifteen and with the boy you’ve been in a relationship with for two years then go ahead. I’m more of a “lets do it once and not talk again” kind of girl.

This is where you came in. With your blonde hair, blue eyes and muscles, you were the furthest thing from “my type”. I like my men dark hair, dark eyes and a bit chubby. Which is exactly why you were the ideal candidate. That makes me sound predatory and creepy I know, but it was my virginity that was getting taken so I was going to call all the shots. The who, the when, the how, the where. I didn’t want any romance or feelings involved, it was two rather new friends helping one another out. One wanted to get laid and one wanted to lose her virginity. It’s a win win situation, right?

It’s safe to say there was absolutely no romance involved. You met me outside the local library (you can’t understand how hilarious my friends found this considering how much of a book worm I am) and took me back to your free house. So far, so good. We went up to your room and it kind of went down hill from there. I don’t know if it’s because we had only really spoken in person when we were drunk or because I’m just an awkward little creature who feels the need to giggle when it’s least appropriate. But God, was the next half an hour the most hilariously embarrassing part of my entire life to date. I think the first thing you need to apologise for is putting me off Red Hot Chili Peppers forever. That’s the band you chose to be the soundtrack to “taking the virginity from the girl I’ve met at the pub a few times”. And the second? Probably leaving me naked on your bed whilst you popped over to get a condom from your SpongeBob tin you hid in your wardrobe so your Mum wouldn’t find it. Yep, that really happened.

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Fast forward let’s say twenty minutes and the deed was done. I was deflowered. No longer a virgin. And feeling totally… the same. Where were the feelings I expected to feel? Automatic maturity? Sexual prowess? Anything?! I’m afraid not. But I did have a totally hilarious story to tell at parties when playing “truth or dare” so not all was lost.

So overall, I suppose I can forgive you for putting me off The Chili’s and SpongeBob forever if you can forgive me for never seeing you again and diving under a table in the pub when I thought it was you who had just walked in, a few weeks after what we’ll call “The Incident”.

Hey, I never claimed to be a smooth operator.


An Unknown Sauce.

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