When I met you I was an 18-year-old, first semester freshman in the middle of a transformation from sweet, good high school girl to bold, daring, party girl. Every weekend I was ready for the next challenge, drinking, smoking, making out with random frat boys. It was all new and exciting and you recognized that in me. You saw that I was ready to change my life and break the boundaries set for me by my family, high school friends, and conservative, small town.
You were a senior, 21 and filled with an arrogant confidence that drew me in unlike any other boy I’d ever met. I’d always been attracted to guys with lots of confidence, bordering on arrogant, but you were more. You always stayed distant enough to keep the chase going. A few words here and there, a shot every once in a while. Then it finally happened. We hung out in your room one night, and eventually the door closed. While we didn’t go all the way, it was the start of our spiral.
You started texting me, turning up the flirtation. We hung out more, until eventually the door closed and we knew what would happen next. You’d been with more girls than I care to think about and it was my first time, although you didn’t know it at first. Eventually you found out and that was fine. I stayed for a little while then left.
I thought I would be sad or have some great emotion, but really I didn’t. It had happened, a moment that was so built up in every young girl’s life was now gone in mine. I’m not particularly religious, so I don’t think I’m going to hell or condemned to unhappy relationships for the rest of my life. What happened, happened and I was okay with it.
From the beginning of our whatever we were, I always knew we would never be more, but I told myself it was fine, that I was just having fun. The cliché stereotype of a senior taking advantage of a poor, unsuspecting freshman was always present in my mind, but I didn’t care. I knew you were probably taking advantage of me, but I wanted it too, so I chose to keep going. Is it really being taken advantage of if I wanted it too? I don’t think so.
Several weeks later I ended things. Casual just isn’t for me. It hurt and I’m still getting over it. But I harbor no hatred towards the man who took my virginity. I knew from the beginning it would never be more, it isn’t his fault for not wanting the same things. I learned so much from the past few weeks. I learned that if you know someone doesn’t want the same things, it’s better to end it before it goes too far. I know what I want in a man and in a relationship and I know that settling for less isn’t okay. I deserve everything someone who wants the same as I do, and he deserves the same.
I will never blame him or hate him for what we did as consenting adults even if it wasn’t the ending I wanted. It’s time for everyone to take responsibility in their own lives and stop being a victim. I refuse to spend another second in self-pity for how things could have been. I gave him my virginity; he took nothing from me.