Image via Girls/HBO.
Somehow, you turn 25 and you’re a virgin.
You live on your own, buy groceries most of the time, do your laundry (at your parents’ house, but still) and floss when you manage to remember. You have three jobs and enough friends to defend against loneliness. A few of your girlfriends know you’ve never so much as fooled around with anyone. One of them tells you it’s cute. A couple of the others think you should try online dating. You think maybe they have a point, because you haven’t had a date since high school.
The two you did have – one was freshman homecoming and the other junior prom – were with guy friends, one of which ended up with the two of you listening to Disney songs in his car instead of going into the gym with your friends. When your girlfriends ask you where you were and you say “In his truck,” they all giggle and think it’s going somewhere it’s not.
Your homecoming dress that year is $63, and your mum put it on the credit card. You’re not looking to lose your virginity that night. Not that you would ever spend $63 to lose your virginity. You’re still not sure why the accompanying verb is “lose”. You’re not really into the guy with all the Disney CDs, so you let him stop talking to you.
You go to college and grow your hair long, because maybe the short hair you’ve always had is the problem. You still play sports, though, the way you always have. This is how you make friends, what makes you feel strong. Rowing makes you happy. While you’re at Saturday morning practices, you listen to your teammates talk about their Friday night and this guy they met. They wore a dress. You wish you could feel right wearing a dress. You wonder if rowing is making your wide shoulders even wider. Your mum thinks so. She says you shouldn’t lift weights. You try not to hate the girls in dresses with the narrow shoulders and the phone full of texts from a boy they met last Friday.