Back Story:

When I was 21, yes, the old, old age of 21, I relinquished my virginity. I resisted it for years, mainly because I never wanted to look back and say, “I lost it to that asshole?” “The Guy” and I carefully planned the event: he would visit my parents with me for Thanksgiving and then we would drive to Ohio to visit his parents for Thanksgiving, after a quick swing by my college apartment. We had been dating for two years, surviving his graduation from college and move to D.C. for a job. He deserved the honor and he still passes the “that asshole” test, even though the event was decidedly lackluster.

Shortly after that big night, I listened to my sorority sister’s story of losing her virginity- to someone I set her up with no less. He surprised her with an expensive hotel room in Cincinnati and spelled “I love you” in rose petals on the bed. “It was so romantic… so perfect,” she said. “How was it for you?” Rushed, dark, uncomfortable and on a shitty furnished bunk bed in my puke green carpeted apartment. “Fine,” I replied. Actually, the worst part was having Thanksgiving dinner with his family just one hour later. His mother continually glared at me, probably because I was a shiksa, but I thought it was because she smelled sex. I could barely eat.

The next day we got a hotel (we lied to his parents that we were going Christmas shopping) and tried it again. Afterwards, instead of helping me pick rose petals out of my bed head with his teeth (what I imagined my sorority sister’s boyfriend did) he rolled over and turned on the Bengal’s game. Now, 20 years later, those are my anticlimactic memories of that event. And now after waiting for the right time and the right guy, my virgin trip to Disney was also without passion.  

As most of you know, we have done the Universal Studios and Sea World thing, which in comparison to Disney is like dry humping. I knew sooner or later we would give in and go all the way. For years my friends have been selling me on the magic of Disney and, in the same way they bragged about sex, they blew it out of proportion. I thought seeing Cinderella’s castle would inspire an orgasm; however, I was disappointed because the size had been greatly exaggerated. I expected that everywhere I walked I would hear beautiful music, watch performers constantly dancing around me, be embarrassed by Prince Phillip’s flirtations…have “I love you” spelled out in rose petals. Instead, I heard couples bitching, saw miserable children screaming (thankfully we fell into neither category), and I sweated more at Disney than I ever have during much more satisfying sex. So I ask the same question I asked after I lost my real virginity. What is the big deal?

Why did I wait so long? Why did so many who have gone before me have such a different experience? Did we just not do it right? Or was it an off night? Or should we try it again, with less pressure for it to be “perfect”?