Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Confessions of a 20-Year-Old Virgin

I am a virgin. I’m not trying to shout it out from the rooftops, but I’m also not ashamed of it. I’ve never had sex.  And?

To be fair, I’ve never encountered a situation in my life where the opportunity to have sex was standing right in front of me. Sure, I could have taken a casual hookup or a more emotionally intense relationship to that level if I had wanted to, but I didn’t. That’s just not my style.

I could outline a list of reasons why it’s great to not have sex, like those pamphlets they always had in my high school infirmary.

1. You’re not going to get an sexually transmitted diseases.

2. You never have to worry about how cute your underpants are.

3. You have to shave certain parts of your body less frequently.

4. You have time to read for pleasure.

5. Don’t have sex, because you will get chlamydia and die.

Unfortunately, that’s not a very interesting explanation of my life choices thus far. Also, most of those points are null anyway. I shave pretty regularly in order to try to maintain the semblance of self-respect, I’m pretty sure no boy would actually care what my underpants look like and you can get genital herpes without having sexual intercourse (which is terrifying, by the way). I’m not expecting to immaculately conceive any time soon, but I heard it happened once like 2013 years ago, so that point’s moot. And I already don’t have time to for read for pleasure, so let’s not kid ourselves.

I honestly don’t know exactly if I’m waiting to have sex until marriage, and it’s something I’ve thought about a lot lately. First of all, sitting through a four-hour-a-week seminar on sexuality, reproduction and humanity for a semester taught me some weird things. You haven’t had real sex education until you’ve watched your professor stick his entire hand in a condom and viewed a video about STD protection set to the tune of OutKast’s “Ms. Jackson.”

Secondly, the class meant that I was thinking about sex for a solid four hours every week — and then some — when I did homework for the class and just sat around with nothing else to do. By the end of the course and my related self-examination, I came to one simple conclusion: I’m not ready to have sex yet.

I have no moral problems with sex. If you’re out there getting some real good lovin’, you keep doing you. I’m just not ready to give myself in that way to another person. Sex is ultimately a means of connecting both physically and emotionally with someone in an incredibly intense way that I am not personally prepared for. I mean, I’ve heard sex is fun, but I’ve also heard bungee jumping is fun. No, those two are not the same, but I’m not going bungee jumping any time soon — or ever.

What I’m trying to say is that whether or not to have sex is my personal choice. Sex has quite real consequences — venereal disease and children along with the emotional implications — that I’m am not ready to risk right now. Someday, I will be. That might be when I’m married, and it might be when I’ve found someone with whom I connect with so deeply that I want to share mywhole self. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For right now though, I’m happy with who I am and the choices that I’ve made.

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