Save it For a Rainy Day

Girls talk, and these girls are very familiar with kiss and tell. It's a short, light discussion asking "Can a girl stay morally straight in a world dripping with sex?"

 Most people don’t think much about losing anything, because it happens all the time. You search; you give up in defeat and eventually come to terms with the fact that that belonging of yours is long gone. But this is a different kind of item. You can’t replace it. You can’t just go to Wal*Mart and buy a new one at half price. You can’t tear your room apart to find it behind a book shelf and you most certainly can’t walk up to your school’s lost and found table to rummage for it. You have to instantly come to terms with the fact that it’s gone. I’m thinking of virginity: the ultimate and most commonly lost item.

            The bizarre thing with this very personal belonging is the fact that instead of giving it, we lose it. “Losing” implies accidental, unintentional, or reflection of lack of organization. Virginity isn’t something you lose like a jar of paprika while reorganizing your spice rack - its something you choose to give.

            It’s hard to keep chaste in today’s society while it’s drowning in sex and vulgar actions. I have friends who have all made the conscious decision to lose the item in question, and I in no way condemn them for that. What I do disapprove of is the lack of seriousness with which they approach the issue.

            People can give their virginity once. That’s it. People have their “first time” once. I don’t have six memories of the first time I rode a bike, I have one. My first time on stage: one. My first kiss: one. That’s the truth of the matter.

            In a recent conversation with a close friend of mine we discussed this very issue.             “You know, I hear they grow back every seven years anyway.” I laughed hard at my friend’s statement and we took the next few seconds calming down.

            I then chimed in with, “Hers must grow back every seven days. How can she just tell us that she’s a virgin again? I really don’t think it works like that. You can’t just say ‘whoa, rewind!’”

            How could my friend just decide that the last three “first times” didn’t count? Even if it was a mistake, if it didn’t mean anything, or if she promised not to do it again, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

            So what am I missing? Why is it that everyone else in the universe has to lose their virginity, while my friend merely misplaces hers? Is there a portable GPS she can snap onto it that beeps when she pushes a button on her key chain? Perhaps she just knows where to leave it near the bed so each morning she just snatches it up and goes on with her day. She can stay in denial, lose hers on her wedding night and feel good about herself, while the rest of us have to wait the seven years for it to grow back.

            In the same conversation my friend and I came up with a curious math equation to figure out the intensity of the problem. “So, if it grows every seven years, do they keep adding up? Does this mean that I have two and a half? Because if that’s the case then by the time I get married I could have as many as six. And I can just go to town and get rid of five on my wedding night, and still save one for a raining day, and losing it in the rain just sounds like a good story. ‘Yeah, my first time was during a gently spring shower, isn’t that romantic?’”            

            Of course after more research we realized that in reality it can grow back after a year or so. What’s even more interesting is that there are specific surgeries to put it back. “Yes, doctor, I’d like to be a virgin again, my anniversary is coming up. I thought it would make a great gift for my husband.”

            Again, my friend and I took immense delight in our harmless fun and games and vowed that one day we would write a book entitled, “Save it for a Rainy Day”. The book would follow the story of a promiscuous college party girl, who becomes a born again virgin (every Sunday morning), waiting for that perfect first time that could finally live up to the standards of her creative story telling.

            The idea has crossed my mind many times and I already have a few ideas for chapter titles, such as, “It was too short to count” and “Why couldn’t he have been a doctor” I smell a best seller.