Revisiting Fucking My Own Destiny

As many of you know, the inspiration for our Monday conversations comes from a column I wrote at The Women's Colony. I plan to reprint all those posts over time. Here's one I've been thinking about recently.

Given that a common euphemism is "Master of Your Own Destiny" it seems I was a week early with my masturbation post.  Virginity was the first thing I thought of, though, when Jenn brought up the theme for the week, "Making Your Own Destiny." I'm actually a little surprised that we haven't talked here about the end of virginity's reign in each of our lives. Seems like such a basic girl-talk topic and yet we're on a different plane for the most part.

Historically I have been more successful at putting myself in the path of opportunities rather than identifying a dream and actively deleting all obstacles in my path until I get there. I'm a slow, plodder, sure, but I favor the circuitous path. Accidentally.

I chose to lose my virginity. I could easily have said no. I could have waited Apolo Anton Ohno-like for the perfect opening, if you will. One could say that I, quite deliberately, chose the first opportunity rather than the right one.

The guy was a friend at the time. It would be a long while before I could look back and see that he was actually kind of creepy. I'm no psychologist but I think he liked knowing that I wanted sex and that he had something to teach me, after a fashion, so it felt like he had a certain amount of power. Being a bit of an outsider and a geek power was perhaps in short supply for him. In any case he made it quite clear that it was my choice whether or not we "rounded home" if you will. I wanted to have sex. I had tried a lot of different kinds of touching with a few different guys and I'd been masturbating frequently and happily for years so I thought it was a pretty good bet that I was ready physically for sex. Interestingly I was also probably clear that I was not completely emotionally ready for it and that this was not the right guy. I'm a Capricorn, though, when I see the option to cross something off a list I really like clearing that hurdle. So, not for the first time in my life, I ignored the emotional issues and decided I would absolutely have sex to get it over with.

Oh yeah I did.

The experience itself was...fine. I mean, obviously it's something you can only do once so I've got nothing to compare it to but it sure seems like it could have been worse. Or better. There was a fair amount of both pain and blood. I'm not a fan of either. He, smartly, urged me to agree to a second round. That at least gave me enough data to see where the pleasure might be gained. Someday.

I could leave the story here and wait for comments to stream in agreeing with me that it was a terrible decision and exactly what we hope our daughters choose not to do. Viewed on its own I'd have a tough time refuting them, too. You have to take the wide angle lens to this sort of thing, though. If you see my one, admittedly rash, decision as a component of the bigger picture of my sexual life and the even bigger one of my whole life, though, I don't regret it.

I never slept with that first guy again. It's safe to say that once we'd done the deed we were done with each other. Thank goodness it was mutual. Shortly after that, though, I embarked on one of the great sexual and emotional partnerships of my lifetime. It wasn't a perfect relationship by a long shot but it was based largely on our being on a similar sexual plane. We had nearly identical levels of desire and experience. One of his ways to flatter me was to bitterly lament the many years we spent each masturbating furiously a few scant miles from each other when we could have been having sex. Had we only known... He was the first person I did...well a lot of things but my fond early memories are of receiving oral sex. What a glorious revelation. If I had been a virgin when this second guy and I realized our affinity for each other I don't think our relationship would have blossomed in the same way. I know myself well enough to know that I would have been more inhibited and likely wouldn't have slept with him at all and thus would have missed out on some of the most marvelous sexual experiences of my pretty limited life.

The experience of losing my virginity wasn't roses and candlelight and memories I enjoy trotting out on girls' night so I can see how it might seem as though this was a Making My Own Destiny FAIL of sort of epic proportions. Some part of me, some extremely subconscious part of me, must have known, though, that this is what my destiny needed and you will not talk me out of being grateful for that.

Sexually do you tend to make your own destiny?