The Big V.

So I had a couple friends in at the bar last week and while I turned away to do something important, like wipe tap beer off my iPod, they got on the subject of virginity.

Ahem Losing it, that is.

Now before I really get into this subject, I'll tell you right now. I find virginity-loss stories fascinating. There are just so many emotions and factors that dictate what kind of experience it will be. The way your parents raised you, the friends you had and your attitudes, your religion, you pre-teen/teen/early adult/adult awkwardness. All that stuff. And you only get that one first time.

So they each go ahead with their stories. One of them lost their virginity to a babysitter when he was like, six years old. And he's totally not traumatized by the experience (which I find amazing) just overeducated at this point with a lot of experience and about ten years of boredom. Because HELLO - after losing your virginity at six years old, how long do you have to wait to find another willing partner? There was a ten-year gap in his sex life. And I mean, FUCK - what's a hand job at thirteen when you've had sexual intercourse when you're six?

And the other guy told a typically cute "Seventeen Magazine Embarrassing Moments" section story about trying to be sneaky and be rid of the V-word with an older girlfriend, but ultimately, awkwardness ruled for a couple years until he could figure it out and lost his virginity in a more comfortable way to someone who mattered.

I like these stories as I like stories about first loves, first best friends, your first serious talks with your parents. They shape you.

The turn came to me. How did Stephie lose her virginity? The story is so saturated in anger and disappointment that I honestly refuse to talk about it here. I will say, though, that if you have a daughter you want to attempt scare-tactics onto so that she avoids any sexual activity, let me talk to her. Seriously, I'll do magic.

These virginity stories can be cute, can be awkward, can be funny. Or downright tragic. I learned several important lessons about trust, people, and dignity in one night, though I wish I could have been innocent for only a just a while longer. In college, I advocated in abstinence programs, speaking to high school students at local schools. I went to church almost too much. I felt screwed up. Sex is still a difficult issue for me. Having children is one of the greatest, most exciting endeavors I hope to have, but I don't know if I'll ever get to experience it because I've got such a crippling fear of a bad situation like mine happening to my little girl.

It's just such an amazing thing to me how sex can shape people so significantly.

My menstrual cycle is 42 days long.

Now you before you shriek "EWW! GROSS!" . . . stop.

I am a fucking anomaly.

In all honesty, you should be delivering tropical fruit baskets and bestowing coconut milk offerings while fanning me with palm leaves.

No, it's not that I had my period for for 42 days, you gross perv. I didn't get my period for 42 days. On day 38 I started crying and lost my shit. I had full knowledge of the fact that I am not pregnant. Day 39 I even took a test and was backed up on this. There are just certain cycles in the world that just shouldn't be fucked with. There's the lunar cycle, the span of a week, the amount of time it takes to microwave a bag of popcorn. But the second Mother Nature tries to butt in on a woman's menstrual cycle when she is not pregnant, it's officially legal and socially acceptable to let heads roll (men might not know this). Hell, they almost did, by my water-retention-affected-so-my-rings-don't-fit hand. But I kept on keepin' on. You wanna know why?

Because I'm a professional woman*.




*A consummate professional who is slamming the door on that IUD shit and going back on the pill to regulate this physiological anarchy and make sure it never happens again.

The Components to a Good Life*

*as stated by a bar regular of mine.

1. Good sex.
2. Good friends.
3. Purpose.






I didn't know life was that easy.