It was almost as if I lined up all the eligible bachelors along the wall and went, “not you…you no…no…no…no…hell no…ummm…..YOU. Step forward and take off your pants.”

I had never even kissed him before, knew almost nothing about him except that he was the shyest most awkward person I had ever met. I had a sense he was honest and safe but that’s about where it ended. He also had a girlfriend in another country.

From the beginning, my search for the right first guy had never been about the “the right guy.” It had been about me- what was going to be best for me. I was thirty, quickly moving past anything that could resemble “my prime” and had recently come to the conclusion that the religion of my youth was no longer relevant. Shortly there after, I realized I now had a problem: my virginity. When I met a new guy, I never thought of the usual questions that run through a girl’s mind. “Is he nice? Is he hot?” Instead I thought, “Can I explain this to him?” My virginity felt like a barrier in the way of normal relationships, the albatross around my neck. Any guys that I had been interested in seemed to run for the hills when I brought out the V-card. It seemed like way too much pressure for any guys that I had met. My friends told me to be patient, blah blah blah, but I was so OVER waiting. I had done enough waiting. To be perfectly honest, perhaps part of it was me. I was the one who couldn’t get over it.

One night, about a year before, I had invited another random gentleman home with me. I had no intention of telling him anything about my sexual history. My plan was basically to fuck him and forget him. I was angry and reckless. The logical side of me had worked out the details and decided this was the best course of action. Throughout the process of deciding what to do, my heart had remained quiet. But at the absolute last second, my heart spoke up. And it said no. Shockingly I listened.

After this I decided on 2 things:
1. It was important that the gentleman involved know that I was a virgin. Not for him. But for me.
2. I wanted somebody safe. That’s it. No commitment. No drama. No possibility of me imprinting on like a baby duck like everyone thought I would. Just a safe place for me to feel whatever I needed to feel at that moment.

So I waited-very impatiently I might add. Losing my virginity was honestly and truly the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It felt like the final nail in the coffin in leaving behind something that I had based my entire existence upon for 30 years. And leaving was fucking scary. But when I finally did, I felt nothing but relief.

As for the actual event, it was fairly anticlimactic (pun not necessarily intended). But he was perfect. He was sweet, gentle and caring. He went out of his way to make sure that I was sure of my decision and would not regret it later. He was everything I asked for and nothing more.

Edit: This article has been published here at Nerve.com