Being a virgin is a key piece of information that I like to purposefully withhold from most people. When I finally did open up to some of my friends about it, I got responses like: “You are so lucky. I wish I was one; guys love that,” or “Good choice. Waiting until marriage is smart.” Those were assumptions; it’s not really a choice and I never said I was waiting until marriage. I guess it stemmed from spending all my time from seventh grade to sophomore year thinking I was going to meet my “Prince Charming” at a ski lodge and we would magically fall in love and maybe have a musical number (Yes, I was a huge high school musical fan).

I soon realized two things: love did not work like it does in a Disney movie and I had no options for dating at my high school. It has been downhill since then. So I hate hearing that I am lucky or I am making the right choice, because those bitches don’t know how it feels.

We all know multiple girls that take pride in wearing shack-shirts like soldiers wear metals of honor or that most of us would rather be thought of as a “fun buddy” than to not be thought of at all. I have a message to these girls: I wish I was you. Being in college is supposed to be the time in our lives when we are having fun and making mistakes that we can learn from whenever we decide to get our shit together and be an adult. I can’t help but feel like I am missing out when I hear the good, the bad, and the downright ratchet stories of my sisters’ hook-up escapades.

It’s not like I am even a “everything but” virgin; you know-- the one who has been to third base with the entire baseball team plus the foreign exchange hall, but still swears she is a virgin because she hasn’t “technically” had sexual intercourse; yeah, I wish I was even that girl. I have never “hooked” up with anyone. Ever. I have never given a hand job, b–job, or any other type of job you can think of. I had never even made out with anyone until my roommate paraded me down the beach last year asking guys walking by to make out with me (she’s very philanthropic).

“Make the first move” is what one piece of advice my big told me, this eventually led me to a lovely invention called Tinder. No offense to the creator of this app, but you should be shot. All of my friends were actually going on dates from Tinder and not just meeting hookups (some did that too). So, I figured since I am verbally challenged at talking to men, it might be a good way to practice interacting with them.

My first conversation on there consisted of me noticing that I had matched with a guy and our only common interest was "Harry Potter." So thinking I am coming across as flirty and demur, I ask the line, “So if you could have went to Hogwarts, what house would you be in?"

As I showed my Big with this huge smile on my face, I realized she was looking at me like a dying woodland animal that has just been attacked by a bear and someone needed to put it out of its misery. So, she told me since I was clearly not ready for flirting, simply just try to start conversations with boys and we would take it from there.

So then I proceed to message this guy with a simple: “Hey handsome!” to which he replied something of a flirty nature and I began to talk with him. We had a great conversation for about five minutes until I ask him a question about the cute little Golden Retriever in one of his profile pictures. I get this response: “Oh, Sammy? I have had her for 12 years. She died last week." I sat there in shock and tried to think of something to say and before I can reply he said this: “It is still really hard to talk about her. Sorry, I’m gonna go.” I deleted my Tinder and haven’t looked back.

I’m hoping that as I do my victory lap of college, I can stop letting my stigma get in the way and dear God, I hope I can eventually just talk to guy in the bar without freezing up. I have learned that being a 22-year-old sorority girl who has managed to stay a virgin is a damn good thing to be proud of.

To all my Panhellenic soulmates who are in my shoes: cherish that about yourself. It is so special. Try and hold out for someone who will respect that about you, and until then, you have the love of your sisters and tequila to see you through.