The idea that my male peers’ virginities are viewed as unimportant, or even undesired, while mine is to be maintained, and in many cases protected, until the day I willingly ‘give’ myself to my husband is absurd and alarming.
If you like someone you talk to them. None of this “well she texted me first so I’m going to put her in purgatory for a couple days” bullshit.
You kiss me in your bed. I tell all of my roommates you are probably the one. And I think maybe you are.
In 2014, I spent ten months teaching English to secondary school students in peninsular Malaysia.
-They were having sex and he said do you like that she was like IT’S FINE
“What are you wearing?”
It started on a highway in rural Kentucky. We passed an adult superstore in the middle of a cornfield, the kind with a retro name like “The Jewel Box” or “Pure Romance,” I can’t remember which.
In Hawaii, I rode a horse with your name. I flinched each time the instructor said it.
Kiss me under the persimmon tree and tell me this is how we stay. Tell me this is how we find ourselves again.
It would be years before I lost my virginity, but when I did I came across a powerful realization: Sex did not equal instant climax.