Re-Virginity
After five years of very much unwanted celibacy, it almost feels like I’m re-losing my virginity whenever I ponder the prospect of having sex again. I’m going to call it my re-virginity. I mean, I know it’s not losing my virginity again, because I am the absolute opposite of a virgin, but the nerves, anxieties, questions, and anticipation are all the same.
The thought of standing in front of another person and taking my clothes off, letting them see everything about me, fills me with a sense of panic. My body has changed so much; I don’t even know it anymore. When I look in the mirror, I see a chonky, wobbly, wrinkly, ugly, scarred, traumatised mess, which means that I avoid looking at myself at all costs. The same applies to selfies, and nudes; although, I’ve certainly gotten better at the latter.
Unlike with my virginity, I feel like I need to… I don’t know… save myself for someone special. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been with my very first boyfriend for almost a year, so it wasn’t like I’d just drunkenly given my virginity away to a random stranger on the pool table at a party.
But after all the years of dating and all the things I’m supposed to have learned, isn’t it now time that I put it into practice before I invite yet another person into my bed? I’m sick of compromising, waiting, and/or sacrificing for men who won’t/don’t/can’t do the same right back.
I know the things I do and don’t want in a partner and from a relationship, so if a potential partner doesn’t fit, what’s the point in falling into the lust trap? I’m just setting myself up for another heartbreaking fall, aren’t I?
I just want my sex with a side order of equality and respect.
Is that too much to ask?
Booty Call?
I could run out and grab myself a comfortable and safe booty call. It’s not like I don’t have my own version of a little black book and more exes in my inbox than I care to think about. But again, what’s the point? Friends with benefits rarely stay that way, and if I was going to have my happy-ever-after with an ex-whatever, wouldn’t I have had it already?
I’m different now, too. The people from my past still drink, party, have gotten married, had children, developed a drug addiction, died, etc. I’ve let so much of that life go. My little black book is full of people who knew the old me. They wouldn’t have the first clue what to do or say to this version of me.
Also, let’s bring pettiness into the equation for a second:
Do any of them really deserve to take my re-virginity?
Dating?
The thought of going back on dating apps/sites makes me want to literally die – and I don’t even hate them. I’ve had some amazing long-term relationships with people I’ve met on the likes of Tinder and Plenty of Fish, none of which I would’ve met if I hadn’t signed up to the apps. My love stories with them might not have ended in quite the way I’d hoped, but they really were beautiful love stories, nevertheless. Mostly. Ish.
To be honest, I can’t be bothered with the hassle of dating. I don’t find it fun. What’s the point in getting all dressed up to go to the bar when I don’t drink and will avoid bars at all costs from that point onwards? I can’t stand all the bullshit that comes with drinking, like, accidentally ending up in bed with another woman, pissing in wardrobes, or y’know, smacking me in the face.
I hate the cinema. And restaurants. And any kind of event with more than like, five people. I spend most of my time in pyjamas, watching the world go by behind closed curtains, squinting because of light sensitivity brought on by my recently diagnosed Graves’ Disease. I go out at night to avoid people. Covid lockdowns were the best thing to happen to me. Not leave my house for days, weeks, months at a time? No worries! Sign me up.
That’s how I want to date: 48 hours locked in my house, playing GTA5, eating a salt-and-pepper tiger baguette topped with butter, ignoring our phones and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist, falling into each other’s bodies whenever the moment feels right.
Sigh.
How am I meant to find someone? At work, via email? Random folks in the street? Dare I say it… blind dates? Fuck, no.
I thought I’d found the person I could do it all with, but once again, it was nothing more than a crushing blow that makes me wonder why I put myself through it time and time again. Chances are it’ll all end in heartbreak… so, again, what’s the point?
*cries a bit*
So… What Do I Actually Want?
Who knows?
Casual sex isn’t really for me. I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt, and I don’t want to “lose” my re-virginity that way. I want to be loved, in all honesty – just as much as I love them, and for them to make the same little sacrifices that I find myself making over and over and over and over again. In fact, I want to be worshipped by someone. It’s not like I’m not worshipping them right back. (My secret blowjob-giving tradwife-ness is coming out there.)
I want someone who doesn’t think I’m “too much” or a “drama queen” when my hormones are out of whack and holds my hand when I get scared or anxious. Someone who tries to understand me, my little traumas, and my twisted neuroses.
I want to be wanted. The only two men I want to have sex with right now either a) don’t want to have sex with me, or b) hate me enough to go on an “impassioned diatribe.”
I want to be fought for. Properly fought for. Sacrificed for. It’s not like I want the damn world, and I’m flexible as fuck when it comes to compromising for them.
Why won’t someone be like that for me?
I guess I’ll just have to keep my re-virginity until I find someone that will… and keep buying batteries in bulk.
Thanks for reading, folks! 💜
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