As I sail on past this point and continue ranting, one of the people getting ranted at holds up a tentative hand, kind of like he’s asking my permission to interrupt. I stop my insane yammering and ask him what’s on his mind. “You have 37 years of pent-up sexual frustration?”
“Yeah?” I answer, not sure at first where he’s going with this. I find out quickly when he starts grinning, and says, “So, you were actually born sexually frustrated?”
Huh. I think about this for a moment. You can tell I’m thinking about it because I’m stroking my beard (which is what my brain makes my body do when it’s busy thinking). Then I turn to the guy and shout, “Yes! Yes I most certainly was!” Then pick up the rant from where I’d left off and continue sailing down a rapidly accelerating verbal stream of insanity.
But while I continued ranting, I made a mental note to eventually write a post on the topic of just how old my virginity really is.
Uh-Oh . . . There’s More of That There Semantic Nonsense A-Comin’
Let’s see: Zeitgeist the Clown. Talking about the nature of virginity. Hmm. This is either going to be a deep philosophical discussion about various abstract concepts, or a whole lot of semantic nonsense. Maybe a little of both (although, you’ll notice only one of those two choices made it into the subheading for this section).
The Difference Between ‘Innocence’ and ‘Virginity’
People tend to use the terms ‘innocence’ and ‘virginity’ as if they were synonyms. And I’m not so sure that they are.
I see it this way: Children are innocent. People that haven’t had sex yet are virgins.
Now, to be innocent, sex can’t be a factor. It can’t be an issue. Things like sexual intercourse aren’t even a concept to an innocent, let alone a hobby.
Virginity, on the other hand, seems to be defined by sex. It is, in many ways, the starting line. Standing on the starting line, you’re a virgin. But once you start running headlong into sexual activity, the virginity is gone. Sure, sex destroys innocence, too, but virginity is expecting it’s own destruction.
Innocence is a world without sex. Virginity is the doorway leading into sex. Two very different things.
I could make other arbitrary distinctions and definitions, too. ‘Chaste’, for instance. Chaste is an awareness of sex, with the decision to abstain. To be chaste means to attempt to live as the innocents do, despite having had the concept of sex forced into your brain.
I hear a lot about technical virginity. “I’ve been giving him handjobs and letting him finger me for awhile now. Then yesterday I finally sucked his cock. He ate my pussy, and made me cum so hard that I really, really wanted him inside me. So – I can’t believe I did this – I let him put it in up my ass. After he finished buttfucking me I left, and went over to my girlfriend’s house, and told her all about it. We got so excited that we played with each other’s titties and ate each other out. Of course, I’m still technically a virgin.”
More and more, people are considering virginity to apply only to PIV sexual intercourse. Which means that handjobs and footjobs and blowjobs and finger-fucking and pussy-eating and tit-fucking and even butt-fucking don’t take your virginity. You can do all of that fun sounding stuff and still be a virgin. (Yikes. I’d like to tell that to church officials from the 14th century and get their take on it.)
This is why it’s a good idea to have concepts like chaste around. Virginity doesn’t mean what it used to. Chaste still does.
Sexually active people can do everything. Virgins can do ‘everything but’. Chaste people don’t do anything (and try not to think about it). And the innocent don’t even know that there’s anything to do.
Is Virginity a State of Mind?
What is ‘virginity’? In days of yore, didn’t it simply mean that you still had your hymen intact? Once you’ve lost your hymen, you were no longer a virgin.
Which would be a fine definition if it wasn’t also linked to not having had sex yet. But a woman could lose her hymen going horseback riding. Modern girls can do it jumping a dirt bike (well, not so much the jumping as the landing of a dirt bike, I guess). A fall can do it. So can masturbating with a candle, which isn’t technically sex. It’s not considered intercourse, anyway.
Little baby girls and little baby questionables born with birth defects or ambiguous genitalia end up having to have their vaginas surgically repaired and/or constructed. Which, a lot of times, leave them with no hymen practically from the beginning.
And having been born male (and having stayed that way), I don’t believe that I ever had a hymen. Am I – because of this technicality – not a virgin? Is there no such thing as male virginity because there’s no physical difference in our sex organs in the ‘Before Sex’ and ‘After Sex’ photos?
I’m one of those people that consider virginity to be the state prior to having PIV intercourse. A female loses her virginity the first time she gets fucked by a cock. A male loses his the first time he fucks a pussy. Of course, the situation might have to change for non-heterosexuals, but in my head, that’s how I see it working for me.
I haven’t ever sucked cock or taken it up the ass, but I do consider myself bicurious. I don’t consider that having male-on-male sex would lose me my standard virginity. Sucking a guy’s cock wouldn’t bring about any kind of big status change either, although I do consider that eventual first time getting buttfucked will be me ‘losing my anal virginity’. I have no coherent thoughts on lesbian virginity. (If I was a robot in a cheesy sci-fi movie, I think that being asked to explain lesbian virginity might be one of those things that trips the illogic circuit and either forces me to shut down, or makes my head literally explode.)
As I’ve discussed earlier in the blog (several times, but primarily in a post entitled “Writer’s Block”), I have fiction writing skills that are currently unavailable to me. And while this lack of access bugs the Hell out of me, something else that has always bothered me is my lack of artistic ability. Visual artistic. I want to be able to draw.
I think that all avid comic book readers do. If I could write and draw, I’d be unstoppable. (No, I don’t know how or in what way I’d be unstoppable. I just would be. Trust me.)
When I was younger I wanted to write and draw comics. Once I finally accepted the fact that I couldn’t draw to save my life, I just wanted to write comics. I still want to write comics. Super hero comics. Sci-fi comics. Porn comics. All sorts of stuff.
And, connected to that, I also want to write comic strips. I know that comic strips are traditionally a one-person project, but like I said . . . I can’t draw. So every now and then I’ll come up with an idea for a comic strip (or nowadays, a webcomic). I’ll fiddle around with it for awhile, and then eventually abandon it instead of seeking out an artist collaborator.
The very first one of these, back when I was in the eighth grade, was a concept for a strip called “Quirky Bastard”. Here and now, some twenty-four years later (good God I’m old) I honestly don’t remember a whole lot about the strip. I know that the two main characters were Quentin “Quirky Bastard” Bassard and his cousin Rhett “Rat Bastard” Bassard. It was a modern day quest/’road movie’ type of story, and I’m pretty sure it had to do with fulfilling an obligation to qualify for an inheritance. But beyond that, the main plotline escapes me.
The main thing I remember about it is the whole ‘virginity’ plot. When the strip begins, Rat would fuck anything that moved. Quirky had never had sex. And Rat was always trying to get Quirky laid, but Quirky just didn’t seem interested.
I wrote up a conversation between the two about Quirky’s lack of interest in sex and then broke it up into a series of conversational sound bites that I could work into the script for a couple of weeks of strips, in between clever antics. The important part of this conversation was the point at which Rat exclaims (a lot of Rat’s dialogue was either exclamations or just plain yelling) that Quirky needed to lose his virginity. Quirky’s comeback was that he didn’t think he could lose his virginity, because he hadn’t actually found it yet. He went on to explain his theory that you don’t even find your virginity until you’re ready to have sex, and only once you’ve found it can you lose it.
This would set Rat off on a subquest to find Quirky’s virginity. Trying to expose Quirky to different types of women and different types of semi-erotic stimuli in an attempt to make him find his virginity. After a parade of failed efforts, he would eventually give up, and in the very next strip they’d stop off at a restaurant. And when Rat was away from the table, a woman would walk past Quirky. And upon seeing her, it was love (and lust) at first sight. His eyes would grow big, and he’d track her as she walked past him, then beyond him. He’d tilt his chair to continue watching her, and then overbalance and hit the floor when the chair tipped over. WHAM!
Rat then returned to the table to find Quirky on the floor, now facing toward the table. He’d ask what happened, and Quirky would say, “I think I just found my virginity.” Quirky’s response to this was, “YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT IT’S BEEN UNDERNEATH THIS GODDAM TABLE THE WHOLE TIME!?!”
Anyway, that was the first time I speculated that ‘virginity’ wasn’t something you were necessarily born with. It might just be something you had to acquire along the way.
So Just When Does Your Virginity Kick In?
I think that I found mine in the fourth or fifth grade. I often say that I fell in love in kindergarten. I’m not stating unequivocally that I was definitely ‘in love’, but that’s the word I used for whatever emotional tie I had to Sue way back then. Love. I was in love with her. I didn’t want to see her naked. I didn’t want to rub my weiner on her. (Kindergarten terminology – who called it a ‘dick’ or ‘cock’ in mid-seventies kindergarten?) I did want to kiss her, but only because that’s what television told me people in love did.
In the fourth grade I fell for Rabbit, and by fifth grade I was having fantasies and sex dreams about her. So, I’m going to say that’s when my virginity showed up. (Sadly, it’s never left.)
I was an innocent with Sue. A virgin with Rabbit (and everyone who followed).
I think that’s how the progression goes. You lose your innocence to gain your status as a virgin. You lose your virginity to gain your status as sexually active.
The Virginity Lost and Found
There is a certain extent to which the world is just virginity’s Lost and Found box. The place where you find your virginity. The place where you lose your virginity.
The world’s a weird place. Traditionally, you get creeps who peek into lost and found boxes when nobody’s looking, then go up and describe having lost something that’s in there so they can steal it. People have started doing that with the virginity lost and found, too. People with nothing but bad experiences in their sexual history. Reformed sluts and man-sluts trying to start dating with the intention of getting a relationship rather than just getting laid. Traditionally horny people en route to becoming married.
Revirginization. The fact that people are trying to become virgins again so that they can lose their virginity properly – to their one true love on their wedding night (or whenever) – makes a good case that virginity is actually a state of mind more than it is an intact hymen or a lack of experience with intercourse.
Of course, there are also people (unscrupulous guys) trying to lose their virginity multiple times. Young men feeding a gullible woman a sob story about how nobody seems to want to even date them, let alone initiate them in the pleasures of sex. Over and over again, gullible woman after gullible woman. I’ve actually been accused of doing this myself by people who disbelieve that I’m really a virgin. Because apparently, nobody waits until they’re my age to lose their virginity. (Nobody, I guess, except for me. It’s times like this I wish that men had something analogous to a hymen that I could stick in the faces of these idiots to prove that what I’m saying is true.)
And Finally, To Answer The Question . . .
I figure that my virginity kicked in when I was about ten years old or so, making it somewhere around 27 or 28 years old now. But I’m still going to continue screaming about my (now) 38 years of pent-up sexual frustration, because if I claimed having 27 or 28 years worth of it, people would get the wrong idea, and think that I’ve had sex, but just not since I was a ten year old. I’d have to stop and explain all of the above to them so that they would understand the difference between my age and my virginity/sexual frustration’s age. And really, who has that kind of spare time?