(submitted by Guest Contributor Mir from Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda)
I was thirteen when a friend of mine nicknamed me "LAV," meant to stand for Last American Virgin. It was a joke-that-wasn't-quite-a-joke, and even then the irony wasn't lost on me, because she was a virgin, as well. (Because, hello!, we were only thirteen!
Yeesh.) The difference was that she intended to rid herself of that particular "burden" as quickly as possible, whereas I was pretty sure that 1) I was not old enough to even be thinking about sex, and 2) virginity wasn't something to "get rid of," exactly.
I took it seriously, was all. Even back then, even when I hadn't yet experienced a French kiss. It was clear to my friend—and to a lesser extent, me—that I was simply made to be a Serious Girl. You could say I was too cerebral to be anything else, really. I thought things through, and then thought them through a second time just to make sure I had it right.
My first serious boyfriend in high school had the dubious pleasure of my sitting up in the middle of a make-out session to announce, "You understand that I am never having sex with you, right? Because I am way too young to even be thinking about that." (To his credit, he accepted this proclamation graciously, insisting he felt the same way. He was a nice guy.)
My first year of college was uneventful, relationship-wise. More specifically, it was non-eventful. There was the guy I kinda-sorta-maybe liked, and I thought he might kinda-sorta-maybe like me, as evidenced by the fact that we bickered in our one shared class, constantly. One night we met up to study, and studying became flirting, and flirting became kissing. He then told me he was actually interested in someone else, but we could keep kissing if I didn't mind. I minded. (The kissing stopped, though the bickering continued.) Later that year I managed to fall for someone who was married (yeah, that's kind of another story all its own). He told me he was getting divorced. I told him that was fine, we could date after the divorce. He never did get divorced, so we never dated. He did, however, call me a tease. I told him I would rather be a tease than a cheater, but secretly I wondered if I had somehow "led him on" even though he'd pursued me, and I wasn't the one who was already committed to someone else.
These were not terribly auspicious beginnings to my "adult" dating life, I know.
My second year of college, I switched schools. It was a fresh start, in a new place, and I decided that I was just going to focus on school and not worry about boys. (I feel that I should've been wearing a poodle skirt when I made this decision, don't you?) I was in an intensive course of study within a smallish department, which meant I was with the same group of students all the time. Given that it was a theater department, about half of the men were gay, and the other half were so full of themselves, I experienced zero temptation. Phew.
But then there was Jason (not his real name). Jason was one of the department's stars. He was a favorite amongst the teachers and popular with the students. He and one of my classmates were forever in an on-again, off-again relationship. For some reason, at some point when they were "off," he started paying attention to me. And yeah, I was flattered. Even though I figured his ego far outran his actual merit. Even though he kind of acted like he was doing me a big favor by noticing me.
Not everything has to be A Big Serious Relationship, I reasoned with myself. Maybe there's some merit in seeing where things go, even if it's not someone I could necessarily see myself with…? He pursued, and I decided to see what would happen next.
What happened was that he invited himself over to my dorm to hang out, late one night. I was rooming in a suite with three other girls, which means we all had private bedrooms but our rooms were all part of a connected space. Two of my roommates were home, so I figured no harm in letting him in. I told him it was pretty late and he couldn't stay long, though. He made about five minutes of small talk before saying, "So do you wanna make out or what?" Alrighty, then! We started kissing and in very short order I was pretty sure he'd grown four extra hands. When I removed hands from my chest, they tried to slide down inside my jeans. When I redirected them again, he merely grabbed the outside of my jeans, as if my crotch was a subway handle he needed to grasp before the train moved again.
I grabbed both of his wrists and was about to tell him what, exactly, he could do with his groping, when he said, "Now you have to touch mine, because I touched yours." I burst out laughing. He wasn't amused, but I couldn't help it.
"Are you twelve?" I asked him. "No one's touching anyone, anywhere. I think you are confused about what's happening here." He did look perplexed, so I followed it with a definitive, "I'm not sleeping with you, Jason."
"What, are you a virgin?" he asked, incredulous.
"No, I'm not," I said, just to lend impact to what came next: "I'm just not interested in sleeping with you."
That made for a rather awkward pause in things.
"Maybe you should go," I said, finally. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just… that's not happening."
"My roommate's got his girlfriend over tonight," he grumbled. "I told him I wasn't coming back 'til morning." I don't know why, but I felt kind of sorry for him, at that. College dorms and the various sock-on-the-doorknob jockeying therein can really suck for the ousted roomie, I knew.
I sighed. "You can sleep here," I said. "But we're done. Okay?" He agreed. We went to sleep, and when my alarm went off in the morning, I sent him on his way.
Later that day I discovered that he'd gone home and told his roommate that he "totally boned" me, and the two of them had wasted no time in sharing that information around the department. To add insult to injury, when he saw me in a crowded hallway and my facial expression must've made my anger quite apparent, he winked and said, "Thanks again for last night, baby!" loud enough for everyone to hear.
I did what any self-respecting wronged woman would do, which was to seek out the counsel of a slightly-more-experienced friend, who was more than willing to commiserate about the unfairness of how easily he'd lied about me, and how he was being regarded as a conquering hero while my fellow coeds looked on with a mixture of pity and disgust. And then when there was a sizable group of fellow students within earshot, she pretended to be trying to keep her voice down while pulling me closer and saying, "You know, I had heard he was a one-minute-wonder with a tiny little dick, but I thought it was just people being mean. So it's really true? You poor thing!!" (Hey, I told you it was a theater department.)
I nearly choked on my own tongue. Fortunately, the rumor mill was just as happy to run with this tidbit as his, and so a slice of revenge was mine. It wasn't as sweet as I expected it to be, though. Thank goodness everyone moved on to the next "scandal" a few days later.
That was over twenty years ago. A few months back, Jason friended me on Facebook. I accepted his request, but sent him a note saying I was surprised by it, given our history. He said he wasn't sure what I was referring to, so I refreshed his memory, feeling a perverse satisfaction at reminding this apparently upstanding citizen—who is now married, and a father—how he once treated me.
He responded with what appeared to be a note of sincere consternation, reiterating that he didn't remember the specifics, but that he wouldn't be surprised if it happened exactly as I'd described, and he was such a jerk when he was young, and he hoped that I would forgive him. I see he has a daughter, now. I'm guessing his perspective has changed a bit.
I accepted his apology. Funny, that felt a lot better than that long-ago revenge.
Did you ever have to deal with your reputation being wrongly affected? Have you ever had the opportunity for things to be set to rights long after the fact? Or is the whole concept of a sexual reputation an outdated construct these days?
Check out Mir’s amazing blog at www.wouldashoulda.com.
Isn’t every girl at one point or another called a slut? I had big boobs in high school. Slut. Nevermind that I was 19 when I lost my virginity…to my high school boyfriend.
Report this comment
I have never understood the big boobs = slut thing. Ever. As if you have control over the size of your breasts!
Report this comment
I don’t guess I ever really cared? My first boyfriend came along when I was 15. I had never even been kissed and this guy was known for his promiscuity. He was a drummer in a rock band. He had long hair. I was star-struck. He kissed me once. He dumped me and told me that I was too intimidating (he was almost three years older than me), but told all his friends that I didn’t “put out”. Which is an insult, I guess? I don’t know, but he would not be the only guy to break up with me because I was scary. Too opinionated and unafraid to be me for most guys, I guess.
ps. My husband ROCKS!
Report this comment
My best friend in middle school lashed out at me because she was jealous of a new friendship of mine (an observation born of 20 years hindsight) and she accused me of stealing something she had asked me to hold for her. She spread this lie around to all of the kids in our class (small school). There was much pointing and whispering not quite out of earshot. My new friend stuck by me and gamely eyeballed anyone who dared speak ill of me to her.
At a party, with my new friend, the kids played truth or dare. I would rather tell the truth than perform any dare any day of the week (a fact that is still true today). Of course when it came around to my turn and I chose truth, the boy doing the asking queried me on my apparent sticky fingers. I was mortified, but I didn’t back down (you must understand that I was painfully shy and said very few words to anyone at any point in time even though I had known these kids for YEARS). I took the opportunity to set the record straight and for some reason, those kids believed me.
Report this comment
I’m sorry that happened to you, Tenessa, but I love the story of how you were finally vindicated. That’s awesome.
Report this comment
I had a boyfriend once in college (who actually was named Jason) break up with me because he thought I lied to him. Long story short–he believed a girl who had a crush on him and I wasn’t about to justify myself to him. But I was terribly hurt and told my friends that all I wanted was for him to realize the truth and ask for me back so I could tell him no. 6 weeks later that exact thing happened and I felt….terrible. I was so surprised by how bad revenge actually felt. But good news! Within 2 months I met my husband and I actually heard Jason ended up in jail! It was a painful lesson but I’m glad I learned about revenge early in life so I never felt the need to seek it again.
Report this comment
I’ll confess I’ve had satisfying revenge in other situations, before, but yeah… “revenge” when it comes to someone you truly loved is rarely what you imagined.
Report this comment
I love this story, Mir.
Report this comment
Oh, I cared. At a very, very young age — too young, really — my boyfriend told everybody he “got” me. I’m talking elementary school young. It was devastating to say the least. As it turns out, he was having some problems at home (I’m talking MAJOR problems), but I didn’t know that at the time. It was amazing to me how many people believed it and how much it damaged my reputation. I can look back now and see that some of the guys who asked me out were probably only asking me out because they thought they could get lucky.
Wow, even though I thought I was over it, bringing that up made my chest feel kind of tight.
Report this comment
Oh, Leandra. This makes me sad for both of you. I’m so sorry.
Report this comment
I was even more sure my virginity needed to be protected and probably just as “cerebral” in a high school context, so I never even kissed a guy until my first year in college, another self-important theatre major (no offense!) who wasn’t close to my type, but I was too naive to know what my type was at that point. Years later, after I had graduated and moved on with life, as one does, another guy I knew, who had been a freshman in the dorm in which I was RA as a senior, wrote me and told me he’d run into Mr. Theatre Major and, in their first conversation, MTM revealed smugly he’d been the first guy I’d ever kissed. How does that come up, 15 years later? WHY does it come up and why does it matter, 15 years later? The thought of two grown men sitting around discussing who had kissed me when made my stomach turn, though I was also very grateful I hadn’t slept with MTM in a fit of youthful anxiety. I wish they all turned out as mature as your Jason!
Report this comment
Sounds to me like MTM was pretty hung up on you, Lil!
Report this comment
My high school boyfriend dumped me because I wanted to have sex. Sort of the reverse of the traditional gender roles, I suppose, but I’d thought it through, I felt I was ready, I was hoping he was too……but he wasn’t. He so wasn’t that after his panicked breakup with me he cut me out of his life and his circle of friends did too. Nothing, not even eight years in an abusive marriage followed by an unpleasant divorce, has ever hurt as bad as being dumped by M.
A few years back he found me on Myspace and sent me an apology. He’s married now and his wife looks exactly like me. I forgave him, of course, and it hurts a lot less to think of it now. It hurts less, but it’s not completely gone.
Report this comment
Carmie, sounds like that was one giant ball of rejection you didn’t deserve to have lobbed your way. Even understanding intellectually that he was young and panicked and insensitive can’t totally change what it felt like, I know. I’m sorry.
Report this comment
It was his loss. I am a fabulous sexual partner
Report this comment
HA! Awesome.
Report this comment
I married to one of the nicest men on earth. At his 15-year class reunion, one of his female classmates approached him and told him that she had intercepted a note he had written in grade school in which he had made fun of her looks. She told him it had taken her until her 30′s to feel pretty, all because of that note.
He was stunned. He told her he did not remember the note, had always thought she was beautiful and had harbored a secret crush on her most of their school years.
As much as it pained my sweet husband to learn of this (and still does), I’m glad his classmate had the opportunity to get an apology and learn the truth. Every girl should feel pretty and it makes me sad she had to wait so long, all because of a silly note in grade school.
Report this comment
Goodness, what a lesson in how careless words may do real damage, even from the kindest of people. I’m glad they were able to talk.
Report this comment
I was very large busted in high school. I was pregnant every other week depending on which day it happened to be. I felt so ashamed of myself. It didn’t occur to me that the girls that were saying such awful things probably were flat chested and jealous.
Either way, the irony amuses me now that I’ve never had biological children. I had a breast reduction at my attempt to look more normal (I’d do it again too!). But the one lesson I got from all of that is that it really doesn’t matter what others think. If you know in your heart of hearts you’re doing things because it’s you…then you’re already amazing!
P.S. I was a virgin until I was 17. Damndable hormones got me.
Report this comment
I think the only time someone specifically went after my reputation was in seventh grade. In gym class (which was quite large because it was a big school) I didn’t know a single soul. The first day of school there was a girl named Angela who I tried to befriend. She acted nice at first, but then the second day, she turned on me. When I tried to talk to her again, she said “Why are you trying to talk to me? You like me don’t you? You’re a lesbian!”
This was in the very early 90′s, so you can imagine what the response from the other classmates was. It caught on like wildfire and by the second week, I spent every day of that year being called names and basically wishing I was dead.
The following year I had a different gym class, and I never had a class with Angela again. Everyone forgot about the fact that I was supposedly gay, and I got to move on. Now as an adult, I understand that Angela probably had some serious issues. The little 12 year old inside of me still feels very tense whenever I think about gym class, though.
Report this comment
Oh my goodness… My reputation in high school was SHOT due to the size of my boobs! I feel Tracy’s pain! And it’s not like I flaunted them… I strapped those suckers DOWN! And wore turtle necks… and layers of sports bras.
Making matters worse, I lived in a rather judgmental small town. I was in the Wal-Mart clothing department trying to find a shirt one time and overheard a mother and daughter commenting on my boobs, not quite out of earshot. The mother looked at her daughter and said, “What kind of parents does THAT girl have!? Letting a teenager get a boob job!? That’s disgusting.” I actually laughed… because the idea was so ridiculous… but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Some people! Jeez!
Report this comment
I have never been so grateful to be small-chested as I’ve been reading the comments on this post! I had no idea. Yowza.
Report this comment
I see most of you have had your reputations tarnished wrongly. Well, it’s worse when you’ve actually made a mistake and it came back to haunt you. That is something that takes a lot of strength to overcome. To realize, that indulging in sexuality doesn’t make you a worthless person. Sexuality on its own is neutral, but it can be approached with a lack of interpersonal respect that makes it deeply disturbing.
Report this comment
Excellent point, Pris.
Report this comment
I was in seventh grade and our school was very, VERY small. There were 14 kids in my class. One day at recess one of the tough girls (you know the type) decided that she was ticked off with me for whatever reason, and started yelling around the school yard that I stuffed my bra. I had a large chest even at that point in time (a fact that my husband is ecstatic for now, but that caused me huge problems as a teenager) and then the entire group of kids out for recess started chanting it.
The me of today would’ve whipped up my bra or some up with some witty remark. The me back then stayed huddled in a bathroom stall for the rest of the day, bawling.
Report this comment
Hormones are awful. I had two boyfriends in high school; one for 2 years, 6 month break & another for a year & a half. I never slept w/either of them. I was actually shocked my senior year when a sophomore girl confided in me bc she was devastated that her bf had dumped her and they’d been sleeping together for the last two months. I assumed everyone talked a good game, but no one was really doing it. I mean I’d been w/two very “active” guys and not done it, so these couples who were only together a few months weren’t really doing it, were they? I actually used to break up w/boyfriend #2 every other week or so, over the sex thing; “You know I’m NEVER sleeping with you at this point, right?” But he kept coming back for more.
I went through a period in college where I had “kissing buddies.” I suppose they are usually referred to as “F***ing Buddies” but we just made out like crazy. (I’d finally had sex my freshman year of college, and had, had a few bf’s since that time.) I didn’t WANT a boyfriend, but I was girl & was healthy, so I was game for a good make out session here and there. I was very up front about what was NOT going to happen, so on the occasion when I got called a nasty name or a tease, I pointed out that I actually was neither of those things and they could “Kiss my Arce.” Most were surprised by this, but quickly got over it. (That sounds like there were dozens or something, no.) I did have a someone I considered a REALLY good friend pull the crap you did tho. It was summer so we were both home, but would hang out on weekends or such. One weekend, I spent in his hometown. I slept in his room, he slept in the guestroom. His PARENTS were around. We went to parties, etc… Later, I found out he’d told all our mutual guy friends that he’d “got me.” His BFF, (who was not a fan or mine, nor I of him,) told me. I was PISSED. I set the friend strait. He told me he didn’t really believe me, “why would Jeff lie about that?” “IDK, bc he’s apparently an ass. Ask him?” I pointed out that Jeff was obviously no longer someone I considered a friend, (which was too bad, we had fun together & if he’d not done that we might have turned into something more,) and that it wasn’t like I was proclaiming my virginity or something. Then I said, “Honestly, I don’t really care if you believe me. I have nothing to prove. Does it change your opinion of me if I did or didn’t? It shouldn’t. But it also, shouldn’t really be anyone else’s business, and I don’t like being lied about.” Jeff’s BFF promptly set the record strait. Jeff apologized, but damage done. We were no longer friends. My reputation was fine, his screwed. My sorority sisters, did not take kindly to his actions & he was pretty much black listed. Jerk.
I think the most important thing was that I waited to have sex until I was completely ready. When I did, I fully understood the difference between sex & love, and that they weren’t mutually exclusive. I also think I had a really healthy perspective on the fact that it was my business, and I really didn’t care what anyone else thought. Had I given in before I was truly ready, I can’t imagine what a “Jeff” could’ve done to my ego.
Report this comment
I’ve been lucky (?) enough, due to my innate prudishness behavior-wise, to not really have this happen to me. But I’ve known too many women who were branded “Sluts” whether due to actually (horrors!) having sex with someone, or due to spiteful people telling tales. Either way, the treatment was completely undeserved. Even the few I’ve known with multiple partners at a young age had backgrounds and issues where I could see where they were coming from and I never saw any need to brand them with a label because of it.
Sadly, from what little I hear, I think that same double-standard is floating around out there for kids today, and the double-pressure where it’s “shameful” to be a virgin, but of course you can’t be a “slut” either.
Argh, now I just hate everybody.
Report this comment