I was ashamed of my virginity. I grew up in a school where girls just shy of 14 would brag about the number of boys they had been with. The farther you had been the cooler you were. And I hadn’t been very far at all.
With strict religious parents enforcing the beliefs of no sex before marriage, each moment spent with the opposite sex was to be chaperoned, from car rides to cinemas. In church they spoke of the dangers of being alone with the opposite sex.
Whether married or single, old or young you should never spend too much time with the opposite sex, because attraction was sure to arise and it would most likely lead to dangerous, scandalous, erotic behaviour.
I was lead to believe that given the opportunity if a man and woman were left alone together no matter what the circumstances it would lead to sex.
I thought everyone must be obsessed with sex, but as Stephen Fry pointed out it’s the religious that are – “It’s the strangest thing about this church – it is obsessed with sex, absolutely obsessed. Now, they will say we, with our permissive society and rude jokes, are obsessed. No. We have a healthy attitude. We like it, it’s fun, it’s jolly; because it’s a primary impulse it can be dangerous and dark and difficult.
It’s a bit like food in that respect, only even more exciting. The only people who are obsessed with food are anorexics and the morbidly obese, and that in erotic terms is the Catholic Church in a nutshell.”
I was 15 and I could not believe a boy of 20 would be interested in a virgin like me.
I had a boyfriend, I didn’t like him much.
Well I didn’t like him at all really; I was only dating him because my friends wanted me to have a boyfriend. But Dan, Dan was different. He was cheeky and made me laugh even in his West Coast football club jersey I thought him the hottest boy I had ever seen. And he wanted me. It only took him three days to break me down. In the spare room of my auntie’s house, he didn’t need to promise me forever, I did not need to hear that he loved me. I was ready, ready to no longer hold the burden of being a virgin. Within the two months I was gone, just another run away ex-witness living in sin with her boyfriend.
I know a man who searches for us, the ex-witness girls. He explained the allure to me once “They are the kind of girls you want to take home to your parents, as their manners always impress; Pair that with their ability to always be well presented and to talk to anyone of all ages, and you will almost find yourself in love. But get them into the bedroom and they are wild. They are eager for everything, and always willing to please.”
Should I blame the sexual repression from my religion for losing my virginity at 15 to a man I barely knew nor loved? Or should I blame the peer pressure from my school friends? Or was the cause my bipolar and hyper sexuality?
I don’t know if it was any or all of those things. All I know is that good girls really do make the best bad girls.