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“Hey mom, wanna answer me something?”
That loaded question was a text from my 13-year-old daughter which sent me into a mild panic.
Did I throw away her prized collection of dust bunnies? Was she upset because I may or may not have given away her way-too-tight tees and shorts to Goodwill? I braced for it and replied “Sure what is it?”
Drumroll please . . .
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
What? What the . . . HUH?? Yikes. She was 13 and single. Why would she need to know that? And via text? While I was at work?!
Well, apparently she had been creepin’ through my blog and stumbled upon a Q & A post—specifically, question #6, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” My answer in that post was a lie. Who knew my kids actually DO read my blog? I should (clean) start putting (your) subliminal messages (room) hidden in text. That (bake) might (me) actually (cupcakes) work (now)!
So since she asked me flat out, and I don’t lie to my kids (Santa and Easter Bunny aside, shut up) I told her. I told her that I was 18 (which is the truth), that it was awful (which it was), not enjoyable at all or special in the least, and that I regretted it almost immediately. It was with the boy who took me to my senior prom. We dated off and on but were never “exclusive.” He lived with his grandmother, who was half senile. We used to party in his basement, all of us, and we paired off when it came time for prom. We fooled around quite a bit but never went all the way, not even on prom night.
But one summer night after I graduated high school, he asked, I did it, and it was less than nothing to write home about. I explained to her that I felt dirty, cheap, and used after giving him my virginity. I told her that your first time should be special, and it should be with someone you love, and someone who loves you back. Mine was not.
Then she asked why I did it. I told her that I really liked him (not love) and I thought he’d like me more if I did it (which he didn’t). What I didn’t tell her, was that right after we did it, his grandmother walked in on us. I was mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I was not only embarrassed to be caught, but devastated that what was supposed to be one of the most special times of my life ended up being one of the worst nights of my life. Right after we got dressed, I asked him to drive me home. And I believe that was probably one of the last times I ever spoke to him.
At 13, she knows that she is nowhere near ready for that step, and wants to wait until she’s married. I told her that as her mother, I know that she will make mistakes and that she will learn from them. But I also want her to learn from the mistakes I’ve made because I’d love to save her from making the same heartbreaking mistakes. And I told her that losing your virginity with someone you love, who loves you back, doing it for the right reason, isn’t a mistake. But my reasons were wrong, and I will always regret it. And do you know what she said in reply? My 13-year-old daughter said this:
“Don’t live with regrets, everything happens for a reason.”