I'm sure you've heard countless "losing my virginity" stories. Or maybe you haven't and that's why you didn't just stumble across this but sought it out, looking for advice before you give yours up. Or maybe you just did and have a burning desire to know if everyone else experienced their first time the same way you did because let's face it - even when it comes to something as personal as a sex life we are all still comparing - competing - with one another because that is how we were taught to live, that is how society taught us to live.

But that's beside the point.

And while I still have your attention, notice the word "gave". I gave him my virginity. He did not take it. Oh no, he did not take it because as a mature young adult and as a feminist and a strong ass woman I know how to take responsibility for my actions and I wouldn't dare blame him for something I consented to.

Dear L,

Do you remember exactly how it happened or was our two week fling too insignificant for you to bother? I'd be happy to refresh your memory.

We were freshman in college. Just last year, actually. I had only been kissed a few times back in high school and the first real intimacy I shared with a man was forced - but my sexual assault story is one you will never hear. A friend and I had just gotten back from a dorm about a mile down the road from our buildings and found ourselves sitting on the steps in our quad, waiting for the remainder of our friends who had trailed behind us on such a brutal, up-hill walk. It was around 1 or 2am by then and it was the second weekend of first semester. I lived in an area that housed all freshman - all of us eager to begin our college experiences and, of course, to make friends. So as you would imagine, the quad was busy with people returning from frat parties or friends dorms or bars they snuck into with a fake I.D.

A group of people stopped just short of my friend and I and introduced themselves, they lived one building over. Then you showed up. I had been so busy with the first people that passed that I didn't notice you came from inside my building, a crucial detail come the end of week two.

You introduced yourself and laid beside me on the stairs. The conversation's kind of fuzzy but somehow your tongue ended up intertwined with mine and the group of people in front of us stared for a second then went on their way. I pulled away and said I wasn't much for P.D.A and in those few seconds my friend whispered, "be careful, he seems sleezy". You stood and stretched out your hand and despite the advice I had just been given, I followed.

I remember giggling like an idiot. A sort of excitement came over me and you were laughing too and you lead me up the stairs and behind to farthest building in the collection of 6 that surrounded us. We didn't fuck that night. I didn't want to. Instead we just fooled around a little, both only half naked. We exchanged numbers. And just like that you left. I walked back toward my dorm and you grabbed your skateboard and headed toward the center of campus. Even just with that, I was beaming.

It was the next night, remember? We'd been texting all day long, it was a Saturday. I agreed to have you over and you asked for my room number, not my building name. Had I given it to you the night before? I gave you my room number and you knocked on my door and I asked how you got in the building (we had already discussed the fact that you lived across campus) and you said someone was leaving as you walked in and held the door for you. It made sense at the time. One thing lead to another and we had sex, of course. The first time of many, all of which were fantastic. There was nothing awkward about it. You were experienced, you taught me what I needed to learn and you guided my body alongside your own. It was nothing less than great sex every time - what a shame I had to learn not every man would be as good as you were because let's face it, shitty sex sucks. Even that one night in your room, when we got a little to rough and there was blood shed, it was a little embarrassing at first but we recovered very, very well. For sharing all your knowledge, I thank you. For helping me "practice". For being a damn good partner, I thank you.

I knew we weren't exclusive and I hadn't quiet caught feelings for you. There was one night I came pretty close, though. We were in my dorm and we were getting ready to fall asleep and we started talking and you told me all these childhood stories and I couldn't help but sympathize with you. Then you dropped a bomb my damaged ass wouldn't have shared month one, let alone week one.

"I'm bipolar."

Silence.

"Are you scared of me now?"

I shook my head. "No."

I kissed you.

And that right there is the moment. The moment I keep going back to and keep remembering. That sweet ass moment we shared was my favorite part of our short-lived "thing". I want that again. But not with you.

You hurt me. Which I guess means there were some feelings there. I blamed myself, mistakenly of course, for like a week after we ended. Somehow I thought it was my fault. The surprise, man. I walked past you in my stairwell, my building, my hall, and for a second I kept walking. It took me a while to register: It was you. I turned around and you were already almost gone and I didn't have the balls to call after you. Seconds later you text me. We can't fuck anymore because you're.... what? You're in a relationship.

She lives in my building. My hall. The night we met? You had just finished with her and were heading back to your dorm. The day a stranger let you in my building? She had let you in hours earlier and you came straight to my dorm from her's. A mere six doors down. You weren't exclusive when we met? And I'm supposed to believe that? Or even if we do go with your version, your timeline, there's still a whole weekend that overlaps. You knew our last time was our last time but didn't care to let me know? You let me have sex with you when you had a girlfriend you are, apparently, committed to? (Happy 10 months with her, by the way).

That's the part that hurt me. Because what did that make me? Stupid? I should have noticed. I was a side piece? The least you could have done was let me know.

I don't love you. Of course. And despite my anger I don't hate you either. It's fucked up what happened but how can I hate someone who treated me so well, even if it was only at first. How can I hate someone who taught me so much, who shaped me so much.

Ours is not all that interesting or unique of a story. The only reason it really matters to me, the only reason I'm sharing it now is for the sake of the ever so anticipated "losing my virginity story". Mine was not an awkward experience. It was not your classic "we were so young and it was both our firsts and he only lasted a minute". Mine was one of beauty. That night alone? Amazing. I am beyond grateful for it, for you. I had a picture perfect night but it was followed by a some shitty bought of self loathing and pity because my fuck buddy had screwed me and I should have known better.

But even so.

I can't regret it. Even if I had had one of those awkward, 45 second first times I would not regret it. Hell, I have had an awkward short-lived night with a virgin and it was horribly uncomfortable and really not fun but I don't regret that either. I can't regret any of it because at that moment it's what I wanted. And even beyond that, every man I have been with has shaped me as a young woman. And not just as a sexually active one. While, yes, each man has taught me something about sex as, of course, I am still learning (who isn't really) they have also taught me endless self love. Endless self confidence. And a maturity I never though I'd reach at such a young age. Regardless of how someone's first time goes (so long as it is consensual), can they honestly regret it? Regret learning what they learned? Can you wish it went a little differently? Sure. But to regret it is to regret everything that came after it, every lesson learned, every other partner, every experience that followed.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart, L, for every lesson that I learned.