In one month, I will be 24. It’s been ten years since I’ve started taking birth control. It’s also been ten years since I became sexually active.

I won’t use the phrase “lost my virginity” because that implies that I’m missing something valuable. Instead, I would look back and consider it to be a step into adulthood and each partner has been a lesson learned. This anniversary has made me question my history and my relationship with my body.

I’ve faked it. A lot.

I was once embarrassed to admit that I’ve been having sex for so long, but I did not experience an orgasm until I was 21, alone in my dorm room.

After tipsy, late nights with my girlfriends and roommates in college, I was comforted and appalled to find that I was not alone. Most straight women aren’t even sure if they’ve had “one.” Let me remind you that it's 2017.

Girl, you will know.

If you’re not sure if you had one, you haven’t. You would know if someone lit a little sparkler inside your body and shook it out in every inch of you from your toes up to your neck. We aren’t told what sex is supposed to feel like. No one tells us that. No one tells us anything. We assume that whatever happens to us is normal because we are too afraid to ask.

Like most young girls, I was very detached from my body growing up. I hated seeing my naked reflection in the mirror, and the idea of masturbating was shameful. Instead, I sought relief in letting boys take control, and I found simple pleasure in giving them what they wanted. It made me feel important to have someone want something from me so badly. Soon, I realized they didn’t just want sex, they wanted me to perform. So, I delivered a great performance, every time with every guy.

It was uncomfortable sometimes, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had convinced myself that there were more important things to sex than an orgasm like lying next to someone and feeling their heartbeat, reaching out to run your fingers through their hair or just being able to connect with a person in such an honest, intimate way without feeling self-conscious or embarrassed.

Those are all wonderful things about being physical with a partner, but it’s like taking one lick of icing when you should be having the whole slice of cake.

If you could go back in time and tell your younger self one thing, what would it be? I would go back to my 14-year-old self, and I would tell her that she is fucking beautiful. She deserves the best life has to offer. I wouldn’t warn her not to have sex. I wouldn’t warn her to stay away from boys. Instead, I would remind her that her worth didn’t lay in her virginity status. I would tell her to that she owns her body, and she doesn’t need anyone to validate that. I would tell her never to fake it. Eat that cake, even if you have to go home and bake it yourself. Enjoy every bite.