Virginity: Forever Lost and Never Found

To say that one has “lost” his or her virginity implies that the virginity in question can be found.  You lose a sock, your favorite pen, an earring, even your mind, and in these times of misplacement, there is always a possibility that your absent item can reappear yet again.  With one’s virginity, however, the word “lost” seems to also be misplaced, as you truly can’t “lose” your virginity and then stumble across it in the back-seat of a pickup truck behind a crumpled up candy wrapper.

Years have passed since the vanishing act of my v-card, and needless to say, it has yet to be uncovered.  But if I were to find it, would I place it in my wallet adjacent to my MasterCard?  Or would I attempt to reunite it with its original roots?  Would it contain rewards points?  When looking at my sexual history in full, I think it would only be fitting if I could receive some sort of compensation for my efforts.  I’m imagining a bag chock full of gift cards to Agent Provocateur, Trashy Lingerie, Starbucks, and Apple.  Hint hint…

Rather than utilizing the word “lost,” I propose we use expressions such as “slay,” “demolish,” “kill,” “annihilate,” and another other term that signifies a true bereavement.  While my suggestions may be a bit bleak and coarse in nature, I find them to be appropriate.  The act of sex, especially for the first time, frequently falls short “making love.”  Instead, it’s a painful process between one or more people who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing.  That being said, I was quite lucky when it came to “loosing” my virginity.  The vanishing of my v-card consisted of a quick and smooth insertion followed by me screaming, “More, more, faster, faster!”  Needless to say, I was left satisfied with a full-faced smile.  I walked into the living room, watched thirty minutes of The Lion King, and asked to be fucked again.  So, if I were to discover my so-called “lost virginity,” I’d most likely leave it where it was found, among the ashes of my past and in the garbage next to a used Trojan condom.

Yours truly,
Scarlett Stone

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