How I wish I had posted this post yesterday. The mercury was rising in London yesterday. Today it is not but my story teller still lost his virginity on a hot sticky day in July. Mostly I like this story because he explores the idea of perfection, something that we have talked about recently.
People strive for perfection in all sorts of departments. Losing virginity is one such department and it’s a losing game. You can’t plan perfection. Perfection just happens. The very act of striving for perfection renders its existence null and void before you’ve even begun. To my mind, if something really is perfect, that conclusion can only really be reached in retrospect. Here is a man who didn’t plan his first time. This is a man who admits he did not love his lover, nor did the experience involve ‘rose petals and candles’ but upon reflection, he realizes the experience was perfect for him.
I also love the fact that he read about The Virginity Project in a feature I wrote for this month’s Glamour Magazine. He is a gay man so perhaps its par for the course but put it this way, he is not the first man I have heard from this month who likes checking out Glamour and they’re not all gay. Fact. Guys like reading girl’s stuff.
‘I read about your work in this month’s 'Glamour' magazine, and found it immediately interesting. I too have always found such a traditionally taboo and significant concept intriguing. I felt compelled to write to you about my experience. I'm a 20 year old gay man, and I lost my virginity when I was 17 to a man I barely knew. I'd met him on a night out the evening I turned 17, but I didn’t see him again until about 3 weeks later. He was so not my type, or anything like the sort of man I had imagined I would lose it to, but he was charismatic, about 6 years older than me, and incredibly 'together'.
He had his own city centre apartment and expensive clothes. To a teenage homosexual still living at home, this all seemed amazing. It was a sticky hot summer’s day in late July, and we agreed to meet in the gay quarter near where he lived for a drink. We got there, but being such a beautiful weekend, everywhere was packed. He asked me if I fancied getting a bottle of wine back at his place, and I knew right there and then exactly what that meant. I agreed, we bought the wine and walked up to his place. My heart was in my eyeballs and I couldn’t remember what to do with my tongue in my mouth. We proceeded to get a bit tipsy on the balcony, and I can remember the heat being so intense. I suggested moving it to the bedroom (the wine did wonders for the confidence), and we did. He had no idea I was a virgin, and still to this day I don’t think he does. He was kind and sparkly, and he looked after me. It hurt, like a bitch frankly, but I did ease into it in the end, and found myself really enjoying myself.
We made love again a few months later and it was just as fun. I just thought, with all the stories I hear from friends about how shitty their first times were, with horrible people or bad places, it would be nice to show that some can be perfect. I didn’t love him, nor do I now. There weren’t any candles or rose petals, but it was absolutely perfect for me and I always look back on that hot day in July and smile. I can’t wait to buy your book and see what other people have experienced.’