You don’t know me, but I’m a virgin. Judging by the actions of my peers, I may even be the only virgin. I don’t know what happened during high school but, somewhere along the way, I neglected to get laid, and now it’s a big deal that I’m 18 years old and still haven’t had sex. I’m a regular person; I have friends; I go to parties; I’m not some social outcast who spends all her free time uploading rants to her totally ignored YouTube account. I’m just like you, except… pure.
And, I’m assuming you aren’t, because no one else in this school seems to be suffering the same affliction as me. I’ve been here two semesters now, and never has anyone let it slip that they’ve never done the dirty deed. So, either you’re a bunch of liars and I’ve got a lot of company, or I’m a total teenage freak. I’d prefer the former, naturally, but somehow I don’t think you’re that clever; so I’m stuck on the outside once again.
There have been a few close calls but, for some reason, they didn’t work out. I guess I didn’t have the oh-so-common teen rom-com luck that my friends did. After those disappointing nights, I gave up on the quest and accepted that, at 18, I am already an old maid.
Taking the risk of sounding like a total ho-bag, I’ll tell you this: right now my standards aren’t even all that high. At this point, if you’ve got a penis, a sense of humour, a vocabulary, and a semi-regular grooming ritual, my pants are down. A bed would be nice, but by now I’ll even take the handicapped stall in the 2E hallway.
It’s not that I’m committing myself to a lifetime of skankitude; I’ve got slightly more self-respect than that. It’s just that the stigma attached to this first time is a killer, and I’m looking to get it over with. The idea of saving yourself for your true love is super-romantic and sweet… but I’m not that girl. Waiting for marriage is nice if it’s intentional, but not so endearing if you have no other choice.
I’m just warning you that if the box of condoms my parents gave me for my 18th birthday (which is a whole different story) remains sealed by the time the next one rolls around, I’m not sure if anything will be able to salvage my self-esteem.
All I’m saying is that maybe I don’t have my tits hanging out or mounds of eyeliner piled on, but if you’re stealthy enough you just might catch me gazing longingly at your junk. Give me a smile and we’ll see how busy the washrooms are. Just this once, though – then I’m waiting for my prince.