Virginity, Fantasy, and What to Take Away

Q. The other night when having a sleepover with my best friend (we are both girls) things got a little sexy, I guess. I am still young and I think I’m a virgin. Would my friend and I licking and gibbering each other’s pussies make us lose our virginity?

A. My dear questioner, your question, like most questions, comes with a multitude of answers, even though I read your question with a heavy sigh. I’ll explain that heavy sigh in a moment, but for now, the short answer, my love?  The idea of virginity is an archaic construct, bent more on the idea of property value and faux-sanctity insurance, and always dripping heavily in a few layers of sexual morality. I think it’s a damaging and ridiculous concept that prizes sexuality as something that’s “given away” to the right person, as if your sexual self was a present that one has to consume, though you may disagree and value it as part of a form of sexual autonomy and religious importance. Tomato, tomatò, I won’t argue that. In my opinion, what defines its actual loss is always a tricky question, because if you choose one virginity-losing experience over another, you end up leaving out the sexual introduction of other folk.  If you have anal sex and not vaginal, does that mean you are a virgin (not in my book)?  If you are penetrated vaginally or anally with fingers or a toy, have you lost your virginity (ummm..)? Is engaging in every sexual behavior except the sanctimony of P in V sex a form of saving your virginity (yes by societal construct, but no, not really by reality)? And your experience with oral sex is a form of sex, though, perhaps not the sex with a capital S that you might believe takes away your virginity with a capital V.

The virginity box is a narrow construction, though one that might play personal importance in its idea that you haven’t had sex as a social marker (careful of those social markers). In other words, virginity isn’t a black and white barrier that you cross over. Defining sex as just an act of penis in vagina, while popular in the larger culture, is actually incredibly limiting to many of the different sexual experiences that exist on the mighty heteronomative grid. Virginity defined as P in V can also be dangerous as far as your health goes. The truth is, all types of sex, including oral, anal, and P in V, have the possibility of transmitting infection. I certainly don’t want to freak you out, only to let you know that these activities have risks, just like driving a car or eating sushi or engaging in everyday life. Most often, if you go about the activity as instructed, there is very little risk outside of that which you cannot control. You cannot control how people around you on the road drive, but you can control wearing a seatbelt and not driving drunk. So while there is still a risk with everything you do, you have power in making the decisions about the type of protection used, about the situations where you will engage in sex, and most importantly, who you will have sex with and what defines it as sex.

Of course, sex and the relationships people have with sex are vastly more complicated than my dawdly little sentence may lead you to believe, and you will run into situations where the playing field is just not equal and sometimes downright biased (see: almost everyone having sex except straight men). I only mean to let you know that just one of the more powerful things someone can do when having sex with someone else is to have it on your terms, have it safely, and have it.

Now, the short answer to this question. Stop being a creep. Your sentence reads like a fourteen year old’s bad fan-fic intepretation of a teen sex fantasy,but I imagine is actually written by someone much, much older.

Let me be clear. It is not the idea of two women having sex that is creepy. Not even two underage girls. The idea that underage girls are sexual beings with thoughts and desires might be a new concept for you, especially since we are constantly bombarded with Lolita type representations of hyper-sexualized girls who exist for the consumption of others, rather than explorers of their own blooming sexual selves, but now I’m getting off topic. You, whether you intended to or not, are looking for an atypical porn fantasy, something catered to your taste by way of hijacking an advice column. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but baby doll, context. Perhaps you like the idea of being berated, perhaps its funny to submit troll like questions, I really don’t know the motivations, nor have no investment in playing the, “What does it all mean” game of being basic. Basic is unfortunately rewarded in this world, and I’d like to think that we as people, who have invented things like language, air travel, and sex toys could strive to better than basic. I’d also rather not verbally fellate you with insults and only to point out that with an Internet full of porn for you (and really, an Internet that caters to similar mind sets), as well as erotic writing as far as the eye can see, I can’t imagine why you would have thought that submitting the teen virgin sleepover scenario would have scored you a less than stellar directed column of palatable porn, only that I appreciate a question that allows me to touch multiple topics.

On the best of days, I’d hope I was wrong about this assumption. God I hope I’m wrong. I love being proven wrong, because being right never gets you anywhere, it never forces you to relearn what you know. On the worst of days, well, you have given me at least a channel to talk about the not-so-solid definitions of sex and virginity. I’ll take that. What will you take away from it?

5 replies on “Virginity, Fantasy, and What to Take Away”

You’re awesome, Coco. Quite, quite awesome.

Very interesting points on virginity, too. I have been, and still am, somewhere in the region of “believing” in virginity, in that I think “firsts” can be significant. But anyway, I digress. Wonderful article, Coco.

Leave a Reply