Virginity is overrated.
Once up on a time, long, long ago, in a faraway land called India, I used to be a virgin. As a virgin, I learnt many things. The first thing that I learnt was that I was living in a pro-virgin country. We Indians love our virginity. Virgins are pure, chaste creatures of God. The second thing that I learnt was that many, many men would not consider marrying a girl if she did not bring her hymen to the table. I learnt this by reading the newspaper.
During my virgin years I enjoyed doing two things—jogging and reading the personal advertisements in the HINDUSTAN TIMES. The personals were an opportunity for single Indians of marriageable age to advertise their wares. As someone who has always enjoyed other people’s business I would read every one of the ads. One day I came across an ad that read, “Innocent divorcee, age 25, seeks groom”.
I discovered that an “innocent divorcee” was a divorced woman who had managed to cling to her hymen the entire time that she was married. As her most valuable asset, her innocence was the first thing mentioned in the ad; an ad written by her father because, as a man, he knew that no other man would want a dirty little whore.
As a rather uptight 16-year-old I did not question the status quo. I had been sold the idea that my first time needed to be special and believed that one day I would present my husband with the gift of an unused vagina. I wasn’t sure if an unused penis held quite the same allure, but not having a penis myself I don’t suppose I gave that much thought.
I continued to think this way until one day my horizons were broadened by some pornographic material—two visually stunning pieces; a lesbian love fest called “Pink Ladies” and a hetero hump fest called “Pleasure Hunt: Part One”. These movies convinced me that I was missing out on something. We Indians were not being given all the facts. It was clear to me that none of the people in these movies were married, or even engaged for that matter, yet there they were enjoying each other’s company in ways I could only imagine!
My resolve began to crumble. I knew I was supposed to wait, but at the time marriage seemed as distant a concept as death. And for the first time I wondered, how much longer was I to guard my precious punani? 2 years? 5 years? ETENRNITY?
With each passing day I was more and more convinced that this whole virginity thing was over-rated rubbish. Clearly it wasn’t a particularly useful, or visible, body part, like a foot. If I lost my foot, everyone would know and I wouldn’t be able to wear Nike high-tops. If I lost my virginity nobody would know and I could continue to wear Nike high-tops. My virginity brought nothing to the party, it just sat there doing bugger all, yet losing it was going to be a very, very big deal.
As if it were something you could actually lose in the first place.
“Oh no, I just lost my virginity. How careless of me! It’s the second time this week!”
By this time I knew that I would not be holding out for a wedding ring. But I was a spineless little tick and I needed the approval of my peers. I needed for them to say it was OK the way they had said it was OK for me to wear a mullet and acid-wash jeans. But in this country of virgin lovers who would stand by me?
I was beginning to think I was going to be stuck with my virginity for a very long time, when I met a girl who changed my life. She was my First Slut. She was the only girl I knew who had given her boyfriend a hand-job and so, as far as I was concerned, she was a woman of vast experience and so I asked her.
“Do you plan to wait until you are married?”
“Absolutely not! I don’t care if I’m married, so long as I really love the guy.”
LOVE! But of course! LOVE! Love was the reason for everything. Love would conquer all. And as Mahatma Gandhi said, “Cowards are incapable of expressing love; it is the prerogative of the brave.”
All I needed to do was fall in love and I could go right ahead and lose my virginity, because the noble act of love would make my first time special. AND I was a fan of Madonna’s music so I knew that in the future should I fall in love—again, and again, and yet again—it was entirely possible to feel like a virgin, even if I wasn’t one.
And so long, long ago in a faraway land, I discovered the loophole of love.
Love your blog Rads – especially this piece on virginitys. As a former fan of the personal ads in Indian papers the ‘innocent divorcee’ captured my imagination as well. Second only to a girl named Immaculate Conception – and who did her parents think they were fooling?!
Themselves is who! Thanks for reading Ranjeetha!