There is a blog I read every so often; www.theShyNarcissist.blogspot.com I have the blog bookmarked in my phone. It’s written by one Abigail who also goes by the handle AkelLove on twitter. I follow her. From her blog I figure she is in her early twenties, at most 25yrs. She sounds young-ish and full of idealism that marks that age group. But she is a damn good writer; her sentences are snappy like a dry twig. They snap. And her witticism is refreshing.
So I sent her a message on Twitter and asked her what it would take for her to be a guest writer on my blog. A milkshake, she wrote back. Deal, I said. So what do I write about? I told her anything really, you have the creative license. Can I write about my grandfather, he was a real influence? No, I said, no grandfather vibe here. What about life in the office? Do you work for Google Kenya? No, she wrote back. Then you can’t write about your office, I said.
Look, I told her, write something racy, something that pushes the envelope a bit, like losing your virginity. She wrote back and said she hadn’t lost her virginity. I said if I got a nickel every time I heard that I would be sipping some whisky at a bar off the coast of Maldives. She said, no really, I am a virgin. So I said fine, write something about keeping your virginity; 1,500 words, to be in by 8am Monday morning. She beat the deadline by 3days. Apart from crossing her ts I haven’t edited much of this story, her voice remains through it. Read it.
Watering my flower.
The chain of progression is usually Boy meets Girl. Girl likes Boy. Girl usually manipulates Boy into liking Girl (he probably didn’t need a lot of help) and Boy thinks it was all his doing. Girl is happy. Girl realizes that it is time to have The Conversation before The Other Conversation occurs.
“I have to tell you something before we do anything else.” (At this point, her lacy bra is probably tossed over an unassuming chair)
“What?” (he’s not really listening to her but my, is he trying his darndest to look like he is)
“I’m a virgin.”
The world comes to a complete stop. He hears it do so. It creaks and grinds to a halt in amazement following her shocking declaration. His mind goes vapid. Much like the desert in Westerns. A tumbleweed is tossed across the landscape. But…but…the bra…
“Um…”
Silence.
(Unless the world is still stopping)
“That’s ok.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. We don’t have to. I’m good.”
Sigh. And the lies begin.
You know, virgins have it tough nowadays. Especially aimless ones like me. Back in the day, life was easy. Most people were keeping it hidden, and if they weren’t no one knew about it. There were ways to test if the perimeter had been breached/the territory had been claimed/the Eagle had landed (you get the picture), apparently. White sheets. Constricted environments. Strictly supervised social mixers and the like. In some cultures, actually, they would get an uncle to break her maidenhood. Just to be sure. Keep it in the family.
Now, everyone comes at you with everything they have. Have you seen the vacuous creature on the AAR billboard? No one is denying that she’s
pretty, but…really? Sex is everywhere. You can lose your virginity to a bicycle. Or a horse. (A real one.) The bandwagon grows ever lighter. And of course, dear reader, the first question that you ask (if you’re. You know.) is why? (coupled with various swear words, unintelligible protests et al)
Does it matter? Will it make that much of a difference to know? You know, non-virgins (that’s long. What else can we use? Sexers? Sexists? *******? Erm. Let’s just go with NVs) kinda remind me of religious fanatics. I’m sure sex is…very nice, and I’m happy that you’re having as much of it as you possibly can, but must you try and consistently convert me? Here’re my favorite ones:
– You’re running out of time. Your sexual prime is in your 20s.
– You’re twenty what? Really? Still?
– You’re female.
– God said be fruitful…
– But it’s fun!
– No one will date a virgin. (I should probably inform my Significant Other, then.)
– You just haven’t found someone you want to give it up to. (not bloody likely)
– Saving yourself for marriage is like saving a poop for a nice loo. At the end of the day…you still have to poo.
– The end of the day is still the end of the day.
– It’s the next automatic thing after…
That last one is one of my favorites. Then, just for kicks, I do it and don’t deliver out of spite. Although that is twisted because…anyway. Back to the topic at hand.
Why are people virgins? Let’s explore this. For men (as with most things, it’s cut (ha!) and dried. Either they are walking with the Lord, or they are gay. I repeat. I have never met a male virgin who is a virgin for anything outside these two reasons. (Oh wait! Just remembered one, but that’s an entire other article…) Now, for females, as with most things, it’s more complicated. Sometimes, it’s fear of cervical cancer and not being able to afford the gynecological brouhaha that goes with a shag. (Just for the record, I think EVERYONE should be scared of cervical cancer. Numero Uno killing cancer in Kenya? #jussayin. Yes, more than breast cancer.) Sometimes the virginity is synonymous with lack of opportunity. Others just do EVERYTHING BUT, for reasons known to themselves (because really, have you REALLY not crossed the finish line if it’s just your pinky toe left on the other side?…………YES. :D). Some are just…afraid. Hence the cages and barbed wire around their nether regions. Figuratively speaking. Mostly.
Afraid of what? Well, children. STDs that make your lady parts smell like rotten fish or undulate like they’re alive. Because there’s things crawling in them. Or being gripped by that awful monster that trolls the streets of every city: The Monster of Stupidity.
You gotta admit. Sex makes really smart people do some really dumb sh**. (She means shit, here we don’t censor shit Abigail- Ed) I have watched grown men throw caution to the wind for an incredibly suspect-looking chips funga, all in the name of fulfilling manly urges. These very same men have been reduced to grovel-mode, mutating into broke, desperate creatures who’ll do anything for a quick tap. (Who they haven’t been tested wit! Sorry, the virgin in me slipped out a tad. Stuffing her back now.) Or break up with amazing women (can
you hear the bitterness? Lol) on the basis that I won’t open wide like you’re my dentist. Is it ever that serious? (Yes, I do hear the crickets.) It isn’t. Which is even more reason not to have to – BECAUSE it isn’t. Or if it is, even more reason to wait. Right? But then again, what would I know…
After careful analysis, I have concluded that the only way a woman will stay with a deadbeat man who has all the endearment of a life-sucking barnacle is because he’s LAYING THAT PIPE. I mean, you’d rather have a working water system and electricity than anything else, yes? (Especially if you’re Kenyan) Sometimes, when the system is flawed, you decide what your favorite bits are, and whether you reaaaaaaally want to let go of them. And sometimes…you just don’t. More dumb sh**. (Again, she means shit-Ed)
Both sexes get this zombie like look in their eyes when they’re craving, like a crack addict in pursuit of…well, happiness. I’m scared of that zombie look. It’s like the zombies in I Am Legend. Or some movie like that. (I don’t do that heavy duty horror stuff. My constitution is delicate. Virginal, you could say.) Don’t get in someone’s way when they have The Look. You will be deliberately placing yourself in harm’s way if you choose to cockblock your boy on the particular night when a drought’s been on for a while, and there is hope of an oasis on the horizon, mirage or no. You’ll be those stupid people who always follow the sound in the attic in horror movies. And then get surprised when they get mauled/sawed/hacked to death/attacked by a demon from Hades. Really?
Let’s be honest. No one really deserves to be The First One. Your Flower (hehe) is a gift that no one except the good Lord deserves (hence convents. Ha.) It’s also a lot of pressure, unless it’s both your first times. You can literally scar a female for life if you mess up The First Time. I have never met a single girl who enjoyed hers. EVER. (Disclaimer: There are those who think it shouldn’t be that big a deal. You know, the school of thought that says the first time you have sex should just be the first time you have sex. Most virgins don’t think like that. I know most of them. Trust me.
Reason being, it is never earth-shattering the first time. So if we’re going by the universally proven Law of Precedents where (a), the first time is never great, and (b), no one really deserves it (because of the Clause (b (i)) that states If you love something, kill it. It’s just going to break your heart anyway.), the assumption would be that it (a (i)) WILL hurt and (b (ii)) you WILL regret it, like ALL the women before you (because no one really deserves it. Full circle, innit.). Hm. So I must lower my standards and become a semi-practicing masochist for the first couple of times)? No thanks.
So what is the conclusion of the matter? Well, maybe a word of advice. Don’t lie to that poor naïve girl that you’ll stay with her when you know you won’t (if only because she may have big, scary looking brothers). She may give it up, but she may not. Then you’ll be miserable. Unless you fall in love, and want to wait with her, in which case, make very good friends with anyone who works at Unilever. Girl, do it when you want to, and not a minute before. When he says but he needs it, he can’t live without it…he can. He just isn’t that into you. *whispering* It’s never that serious. Quit trying to make me, seeing as I’m not trying to make you celibate. I’m keeping my virginity for a little bit longer because frankly, I like my eyes just the way they are.