Virginity is highly overrated. Let’s be realistic, when you acquire a car or house, you don’t go for the first option, right? It’s the ne plus ultra of business to check out all options, to shop around, and marriage is a business undertaking, so why would you ever want to buy a pig in a poke?
What’s all the fuss about? Why would anyone want to marry a virgin anyway? Is it a trophy thing? Oh please. What about complete incompatibility in the sack? Then the trophy wife might be degraded to the role of mother and wife, and the hubby gets to have all the fun and a girlfriend (not that men need sexual incompetence with their wives to chase other skirts)? Yes, this certainly is a blatant generalization. But there is some truth even in blatant generalizations. I find it quite lame how many men want a ‘proper’ woman at home, someone who won’t talk back and has no a life of her own, willing to do his laundry and raise his kids while accepting the fact that he sleeps with anything willing to endure him, and while he goes out and shags all those women he has the hots for, but can’t actually handle in reality.
For some such wives, their social status and some luxury gifts will suffice to remain in an unfulfilling marriage, while family/society pressure will keep others in an unhappy union, others might not have a choice. I am admittedly slightly radical when it comes to the whole issue of relationships and marriage in particular, and some might even be so bitchy as to remark that it’s no surprise I am single and haven’t had kids despite the fact that time is running out for me on the hourglass of fertility and as my value as a woman is further decreasing in the opinion of the small-minded. But at least I can do whatever I want and I don’t need anyone’s permission to do so. Of course I miss waking up and falling asleep next to someone, but if I have to choose between peace of mind and nerve-racking, between complete independence and whining, pooping children and a life of household chore slavery, I’ll definitely opt for the former. This way I also get to choose who spends the night with me, and trust me, that person will think twice before farting in front of me or leaving his dirty laundry all over the place for it to be picked up by a miraculous, invisible fairy and to be returned spotlessly clean directly into his closet. He will never even consider forming a habit of sitting on the couch in his sweatpants, scratching his balls and working on his beer belly, because if he doesn’t have the feeling that he has fully conquered me yet, he will continue to make an effort to go for the kill. Once you’ve been conquered, why should he make any more efforts? Since when do predators care about their prey once they started mauling and digesting it? They move on to other prey, don’t they?
The same actually applies to me, I will also continue to make an effort to stay in shape and look good if I don’t have a guy by the short and curlies. If I know that some guy will stick to me for the rest of my life because of social rules and family ties, why torture myself with a Brazilian bikini wax and similarly painful procedures to keep enticing him? Oh please. Men want their woman to stay hot and sexy (this blatant generalization is nothing but the truth, admit it), but the same should apply to them as well. Just remember how people start making an effort again when they have an affair, so why is it so difficult to keep it up throughout? I believe it’s actually better to have some ‘fresh meat’ here and there instead of sticking with the same ‘rotting flesh’ for ages. Who ever came up with the notion that humans are monogamous beings?
A couple of hundred of years back I would’ve been burned at the stake for my blasphemous (what a relative term) and sacrilegious (equally as relative) statements, but luckily I was born at a time when I am allowed to speak my mind more or less frankly. Maybe reincarnation is possible after all and after suffering above-described fate long time ago I have returned with a vengeance? Like some sort of female terminator here to avenge … what?
But before I get carried away here with my theories on philandering men, submissive and docile women and the plight of relationships, let me try to remember my “big day” (or was that supposed to be the day I got married?). My first time happened simply because I was fed up with being a virgin, without a clue as to what my friends who had already slept with a guy were talking about and why they kept telling me that I had to get it over with. As simple as that, no fancy butterflies flying around my tummy, I just wanted to get it over with. So I came up with an action plan and what came out of it? My math tutor. A guy who was actually quite cool considering he was a math tutor had the honor to ‘initiate’ me into the world of love, well, the world of sex. Or something like that. He had no idea what he was getting into, poor guy, and he never managed to teach me math either, but he served a good cause.
I still vividly remember my disappointment when it was over, I was like “That’s it?!?”, and I kept asking myself why everyone was so mad about sex, why everyone made such a big deal out of it. But I was happy not to be a virgin any longer and never slept with the guy again. So my first time was actually a one-night-stand, and I was/am very okay with that.
Since the math tutor had completed his contribution to the realization of my action plan, and since I was quite disappointed, I didn’t want to see him again. Since I was useless when it came to math and since I wasn’t really all that into the guy, I convinced my parents that I no longer needed any more ‘tutoring’. Luckily they had other things to worry about instead of inquiring about the reasons for my sudden change of mind.
But the guy also worked as a DJ at the hottest club in town, so I kept bumping into him, and I have to admit that for a while I thought I might be infatuated with him. Looking at it from today’s perspective I realized that spoiled me probably merely wanted attention. Soon I became very good at ignoring him and today I don’t even remember his last name or what he looked like.
***
My next German actually did manage to leave a lasting impression because he holds a unique record amongst my men. But let’s start at the beginning, which shows how strange life can be. The first time I saw this guy was in a magazine article about him as a well-known party organizer, and I thought to myself that I’d love to meet this guy. I still remember the picture accompanying the article, a bald guy with an Indian-style cap on his head and an army-style satchel, an intelligent face with mischievous eyes grinning into the camera. An eclectic mix of various styles, but cool in his own strange way. And sure enough, a couple of weeks later a friend of mine took me to some random party, and out of all people, who did she introduce me to? That very guy, whom I will refer to as Goya, for reasons to be explained later on. We clicked right away and I liked him because he was different. Little did I know how different…
After a couple of dates we ended up at his place, which was a slight shock, to say the least. He lived in a single room and shared his toilet and bathroom with the rest of the tenants on his floor (yuck). I will spare you the details about the state of the bathroom/toilet and his immediate neighbors, but something like this was the last thing I had expected from someone who gave off such a cool vibe. So much for the impression people give off and the cold truth behind the façade. It’s all about good marketing, I suppose. Granted, I had not expected him to live in a penthouse, but I had certainly not pictured this type of scenario.
However, the next shock was to follow soon after, namely once his boxers came off: the size of his you-know-what. And this is where he holds a sovereign record: the record for the smallest penis ever! To this day I wonder whether my utter astonishment and disappointment showed on my face when he took off his boxers, although I did try really hard to conceal my disappointment. At that point I was still very inexperienced when it comes to sex, but I knew that 3 – 4cm in an erect state was not good. Yes, size is only one factor when it comes to good sex, I agree, technique is far more important. But in this case not even technique helped considering that I didn’t even feel anything when he was inside me. Nada, zero, zilch. I was trying hard to feel his