Confessions of a 23 year old virgin
on love, men, fear and the current dating culture
Majority of the time, at least up until the last couple of years, I didn’t pay much mind to this particular aspect of my life. I normally don’t give in to the virginity stigma but I have considered the female sexuality discourse a lot over the last year and I’ve found myself more confused than ever. I don’t know where I fit in the narrative. It has been eating at me and I’m not proud of that so come with me on this journey as I search for comfort through an uncomfortable introspection.
I am a 23 year old virgin.
I imagine this statement to be followed by gasps and wide eyes. Or you might be normal and not care about my sex life, which I appreciate. Regrettably, the former is the predominant response I get. I try not to make a habit out of telling people my business, but unsurprisingly the “never have I ever had sex” discussion comes up in conversations between 20-somethings every now and then and I don’t go out of my way to lie or hide it because it is not and should not be a big deal.
I’ve come to learn that my favorite response is no response at all. In bonding conversations I have had with friends I’ve made this year, the dreaded V word has been brushed over like it’s nothing whenever I’ve brought it up in relation to my dating status and concerns. It’s been met with chuckles and reassuring comments that it is in fact not this huge controversy it’s been made out to be.
It’s not for religious reasons.
My grandparents would probably appreciate if I were to say I’m waiting for marriage, that my relationship with God is so strong that it has made me so self-disciplined in his name, but I’m not and it hasn’t. While I do take pride in my self-control -I would have done it a while ago otherwise- it hasn’t been in the name of any God. That’s not to say I don’t believe in Him, truthfully I’m not sure where I stand but that’s irrelevant right now.
As I’m reaching the age where religious people that do wait for marriage are starting to get married, I can’t help but feel like I’m falling behind yet another group. I’m not planning on getting married any time soon, it’s just somehow discouraging to see people who have purposely waited for the right time and person, reach that time with said person while I’m still in the exact same position.
I’m a virgin not a prude.
I feel the need to state this because I’d like to think of myself as a pretty sex positive person. While I’ve never done the deed myself, I would never shame anyone who has and is. On the contrary I envy them. Up until very recently, I never shied away from speaking about my friends’ sex lives. I quite enjoy engaging in conversations about their experiences because knowing they are comfortable discussing them with me makes me feel less strange and also allows me to live vicariously through my their scandalous -they’re not that scandalous- lives.
But after recent experiences, I’ve noticed myself turning into a bit of a wallflower when the subject comes up, not because I’m judging or disapproving but because having never experienced it myself, I have started to feel like a fraud when having conversations about sex. I also feel that way when I attempt to casually date.
I feel like a paradox.
As a feminist, I am conflicted about the idea of virginity altogether. Overthinking it too much feels wrong. I worry that it’s a tendency brought on by internalized manipulative tactics structured to guilt women. I’d like to think I’m above that but maybe I’m not, I don’t know.
To an extend, remaining a virgin at 23 makes me feel like I am conforming to the patriarchal narrative that my virginity is my virtue that should be treasured for a single person.
I know that’s not actually the case, because of course I should get to decide whether I want to have sex or not and there’s nothing wrong with choosing not to. Feminism is about choice after all. But with most of virginity discourse being rooted in patriarchy, it is sometimes hard to differentiate between my principles.
I sometimes wish I had done it when I was younger.
During my rebel teenage phase, which was my family’s worst nightmare as they like to remind me, I was in the relationship that gave me most of my limited experiences. I was 16 at the time and felt too young to do it. For some people it may not be, many teenagers have sex, but I have always felt too young for “grown up” stuff -I still do to this day- so for me it was. I’m also very close to my mum and I knew she wouldn’t approve of it then, so I refused to do it.
In retrospect I sometimes think I should have. Because it would have been the way I’d like it to be, comfortable, safe, with someone I love. And I have never felt more vulnerable, closer, and open with a person to this day. Sometimes I fear I never will. So who else could it have been with?
Had I done it back then, I would have gone through the awkward experience, gotten over it and grown into myself by now. Maybe I would even be engaging with hook-up culture on occasion, or at the very least feel like it was an option. Or I would have regretted it and it would have made getting over that relationship even more traumatizing, which feels impossible, so maybe this is a lose-lose scenario.
I’m jealous of those who can participate in hook-up culture.
This has been the catalyst to my sex-related insecurities that have developed over the last year. The inability to participate in hook-up culture. It falls under the same romanticized notion of “bad decisions make your life more exciting”. I’ve always found this concept fascinating, because in theory it sounds “oh so fun” but in reality I know I am simply too sensitive for that. So as intrigued as I am by it, I just can’t get past the anxiety it would cause me considering the anxiety I feel by the mere contemplation of it.
I am just not bold enough for it and that’s okay, but as I am entering the depth of my 20s, I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on vital experiences of the complete “20-something year old woman’s life” package. It has brought me to the brink of an identity crisis and I’m not proud to admit that I’m struggling to come to terms with the fact that I would just not be able to keep up with it.
My virginity filters out the boys for me.
Unfortunately, I have had countless encounters where I had to clarify to potential dates that they would not be benefitting sexually from me. Revealing my virginity -more often than not- leads to a boner for men and an immediate ick for me. The bar is so low, I get surprised when men don’t rush to get in my pants. Finding a man who is willing to wait has proven nearly impossible. In a way, my virginity is getting in the way of me losing my virginity.
While these interactions are most definitely disappointing, they are also a blessing in disguise. Guys get abnormally excited about the fantasy of being a girl’s first and at our big age that is nothing but embarrassing. A man who thinks with what’s between his legs is not a man I would want to begin with. I probably wouldn’t know that half of these men are the way they are if I wasn’t forced to have the uncomfortable conversation. It’s not a me (virgin) issue, it’s a men issue. I refuse to settle for these men. I’d rather be alone than be with one of them.
Yes I want sex to be about love.
This feels harder to admit than half of the other points I’ve made. Equating sex with love shouldn’t feel as controversial or naive as it does. I wouldn’t say I’m searching for sex but I am most definitely searching for love. I am a hopeless romantic through and through -although lately I’ve been referring to myself as a semi-retired one- so romance is my priority. I don’t expect my first time to be a fairytale, that it will change my life or that the first person I have sex with to be the last. But I also wouldn’t be opposed to it if that’s how things turned out.
This isn’t a hot take, I’m sure most people would agree they are hoping to find someone to share physical and emotional intimacy with in equal measure. And yet, our actions don’t reflect this stance. The approach to sex today serves us momentarily, only to then leave us feeling more lonely than we were before. It baffles me how much we have normalised the disposability of each other’s bodies and emotions.
When you allow yourself to process it, there really isn’t anything casual about sex. Why would I possibly want someone who is not interested in looking into me to literally, physically get inside me? Someone who seeks my body but not the rest of me? I don’t want to act without processing my actions or emotions. I am incapable of it.
I crave what I fear.
One of the main reasons why I haven’t done it yet is because I am simply scared. I am a certified man-hater and genuinely revolted by them. My vice is being a heterosexual woman and that is where my problem lies. It feels like a curse because when it all comes down to it, I still crave what I despise. My hatred for men, my paranoia of pregnancy, sexually transmitted diseases and even rape are all -unfortunately- very natural concerns to have and they are definitely an aspect, but my anxiety is more rooted in intimacy.
If wanting sex to come with love is too idealistic, the next best thing is vulnerability. My first time is bound to be awkward so feeling comfortable and safe is essential. And I’ll admit, I’m scared of getting burned. The thought of being so intimate with a man, ultimately handing him a guide on how to hurt me and trusting that he won’t, sounds horrifying.
I’m scared I’ll never fall in love again.
I say again because I will always defend the existence and intensity of teenage love. It is the only romantic love I have ever known, so to deny its existence would be taking my experience away from me when I know that what I felt is undoubtably love.
In a way it now feels like love is inaccessible to me because I am blocking it with my virginity and yes I know that’s a problematic view. But after spending so long without it, I can’t picture it ever finding me again. It saddens me to think that love has become so unreachable in my mind -hence the semi-retired hopeless romantic status- but I’ve lost most faith in men and the dating culture is insufferable.
Perhaps a more honest statement is I’m scared I’ll never let myself fall in love again. Because I’ve gotten used to my solitude and though it gets lonely sometimes, it’s not the worst fate imaginable. I don’t want to compromise for the sake of not being alone. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life a virgin. Hopefully not, but again, not the worst fate imaginable I suppose.
💌
This was just a long winded way of saying celibacy isn’t all too bad, men are perverts, I have anxiety and a fear of intimacy.
I debated whether or not to admit this on here. I wasn’t sure if it was weird. It feels too personal, too bare. But my writing has always been personal so hopefully that’s a good thing.
I’m not trying to shame anyone who is sexually active or to impose my views, I hope it doesn’t come across that way. These are just thoughts I’ve had recently because London has reminded me of my single hood and the topic of my virginity has come up a lot.
Thank you for sticking around over this strange self-reflection. Not sure what we concluded, but at least I got things off my chest.
All my love always,
Silvia 🤍
thank you for reminding me I’ve never had an original experience, for putting into words how so many of us feel, and for being raw and unfiltered.
great post! thank you for being so open and vulnerable, it's scary!!
as a 21 year old virgin i do relate to a lot of these points!! although i'm asexual, so i don't actually want to have sex, i still catch myself sometimes wondering what it would be like, asking myself whether i would have sex if it was with the right person, or if i felt comfortable enough. i feel like if i was to have sex it would be more out of curiosity rather than genuine desire which makes me question even more whether that is a healthy reason or not.
but either way, i also feel like there is this idea that the only way for women to liberate themselves from the patriarchy is to be sexually active, as if the only reason women don't have sex is because they're constricted by notions of female sexuality and purity, which is extremely frustrating!! and then, like you said, there is the whole fetishisation of virginity issue which is equally as frustrating and icky!!!