When I was a teenager, some people would have perceived me as boy-crazy. To an extent, I thought I was.
I enjoyed dressing up, going to parties and kissing the boys, because wasn’t that what girls were supposed to do in high school? *rolls eyes.*
So there I was, making my way through my teenage years trying to impress boys at parties, and most of my friends were doing the same. I didn’t feel as though anything was off, it was all just... “normal”.
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As we got older my friends started having sex and actually dating, whilst I continued doing the same thing — kissing boys and moving on with my life.
I found myself feeling resentful of my friends who were having sex and had boyfriends because I didn’t understand why they would want to date and have sex, so I felt left out and awkward whenever sex or boyfriends were discussed.
On every birthday after I turned 18 I would say to myself “before my next birthday I will have sex”.
Suddenly I found myself at 24, and I still hadn’t slept with a boy or even had a boyfriend. I went on dates with men, however, it never led anywhere. I would always find an excuse or get 'the ick' within the first 10 minutes.
When they offered to walk me home, I would think “please don’t kiss me”.
Some of my friends and family started to judge me for being 24 and still a virgin.
I DREADED the drinking game ‘Never Have I Ever’ because I didn’t have any sex stories. Whenever I revealed the fact that I hadn’t slept with a man, my face went bright red and I knew I would have to answer the fundamental question: why? A question I didn’t even know the answer to.
I clearly remember my sister and I were waiting for a train, and I asked her, “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” She shrugged and answered, “Maybe.”