Wednesday Journal Entry, Week 13 ½
Karina Lafayette – July 20th 2022
I know what you’re thinking.
You’re probably wrong though.
When Lilith left Adam, I like to think she got well “acquainted” with herself. I like to think she learned about her body and what it enjoyed and was able to fulfill her needs without having to wait for the right person to come along. I like to think she learned self-love, so that way the right person was just a bonus.
As for me, the first time I was with a man doesn’t count for losing my virginity. It doesn’t matter if that is an insult to the ex-partner, or if for some reason, I come across as arrogant, it just is the way it is. Was he the first person I was intimate with? Yes. But he did not take my virginity. I did. The idea that a woman isn’t a virgin anymore unless a man conquers her like the way he would conquer his climb with a flag on Mount Everest, just never sat right with me.
I was actually bit of a late bloomer too. One reason being because my upbringing was very secluded. My mom always possessive of me, anytime I had a crush on someone, I was discouraged from opening up to them. Nevermind, she would even get jealous of my friends. Till finally I broke free from my narcissist’s shackles and moved in with roommates at age 22. By then, I was already somewhat familiar with my body. Ever since high school, I always imagined what losing my “virginity” would be like. Back then, people weren’t as progressive, so it was the usual horror stories we used to tell girls. Everything from, “Your first time is gonna hurt”, to “it’s normal to bleed at first”. I had also seen a story with actress Eva Longoria, where she admitted never having an orgasm till in her thirties. So not only was I expected to be fine with pain, I wasn’t even going to enjoy it? NO.
Beyond being a late bloomer, I was also really independent. Anytime a love interest or love partner gets a bit too controlling or micromanaging, they lose out. So it’s expected that intimacy with me is the same way. Like Lilith, my autonomy is everything, and anyone who threathens it, just doesn’t stand a chance, even if the love is there. If I have to choose between you and me, I’ll choose me.
Despite never having a real relationship till my early twenties, even then I knew these were all lies. After some research, I learned that the only time it’s common to bleed during intercourse is if there isn’t enough lube, or if there’s a- e-hem, size issue. Then again, if a cis-woman can push a whole nine pound baby out, I highly doubt the typical male anatomy has an actual issue- you’re probably just doing it wrong. Like my mother said, I asked too many questions, and that meant I wouldn’t allow lack of experience to prevent me from learning the truth. And that truth is that physical intimacy is supposed to be amazing, for both partners.
By this point, the fantasy for my first time no longer involved any type of pain, or even accepting pain as an option. After that realization, I had an entirely new relationship with my body. I started buying lingerie, different kinds of makeup, and I went to the boutique Seduction in Montreal. When going inside, I was like a kid in a candy store. A whole new world had opened up to me. Racks upon racks of toys for every gender and preference. The staff were friendly and most of all, I got to ask a valuable question: what does my body enjoy?
I came home with a toy. It seemed possibly bigger than what I was ready for, and made me a bit anxious. Luckily, I got to experiment in the past and had gotten familiar enough with myself to handle it with care. I made sure to use lube, and had done research beforehand on how to clean and take care of toys properly. As simple as it might be, for me, it was empowering. All these years I spent being terrified that once my first time with an actual person came (no pun intended), it would be as difficult as some women say, those feelings were replaced by reassurance and excitement.
The only question at this point was when it would happen. Fast forward till my move in Toronto, I met my now ex-husband. Because I’ve written about him already, this part is going to be more of a quickie. The relationship itself was awful. It was emotionally abusive and a rollercoaster. However, I like to think one reason we even lasted that long is because the physical part was intense. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest, since lots of psychologists point out that toxic relationships have good intimacy because that’s the only time you were really close. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that my first time with him was absolutely fabulous and everything I dreamed it would be. Would I have liked it to be with a partner who treated me better? Absolutely. But this article isn’t about love.
One thing that was disturbing is how he seemed to almost worship me for being a “virgin”. Back then, my mindset wasn’t what it is now, otherwise I would have laughed in his face, but with him, I thought it was normal. Today, I would’ve shown him my toy collection and broke his ego. He seemed to act like somehow he managed to accomplish something by being the first person to sleep with me. He even went so far as to brag about what a “good person” I was. And yet, I wasn’t his first, so what did that make him? If there’s one thing I’ve realized is that a lot of men have a strange relationship with physical intimacy. They seem to think they’re bad people for enjoying themselves and punish women for something that really, none of us are bad for wanting in the first place. While for others, they still have this idea that women partners are their property, also untrue.
But all that psychoanalysis aside, I want to make it clear that virginity in itself really doesn’t exist. And this is one of the few hills I’ll fight on. Of course, the first time a person is intimate should be considered as special, but even if it isn’t that great, it shouldn’t be the end of the world. Holding onto the idea of virginity not only creates unrealistic expectations, it shames people for something natural. Not to mention, what happens if someone just isn’t straight? Or in my case, bi. Do I lose my virginity twice? And what happens if someone was assaulted before they even had their chance to explore themselves through the eyes of another? I’ve seen comments where people have said they “lost” their virginity that way, and it’s disturbing. If there was no consent, it doesn’t even count.
At this point, the best thing is to stop obsessing over what intimacy should look like. Instead, it’s better to educate kids about their bodies and allow them the chance to explore themselves as soon as they’re curious. And that contraception exists. The idea that their first experience should be hurtful or uncomfortable is dangerous, it makes it so they’re less likely to recognize red flags, let alone consent. If you have a teenager, ask them whether they would like a toy of their own. There’s plenty of websites that do online shipping, so it’s not like you’d have to shop with them. And if the idea of them exploring alone disturbs you, maybe that’s a sign of needing therapy yourself, because they probably are anyway. We’re all human, you know.
And when that first time does happen, of course it’s going to be a bit awkward, and maybe it won’t be like something out of Bridgerton, but it should at least be an experience worth remembering. Our bodies are designed for pleasure. They’re designed to be caressed, explored and admired. Considering how difficult the world can be, we owe them that much, and more.
If you enjoyed this article, you might also want to check out Loving the Wild Reject: My Experience with Black Moon Lilith.
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