In honor of the first sex column of the year, and to commemorate what for many of you is your first time reading the G-Spot (hello freshmen and transfer students!) I decided to start with talking about a much more anticipated first: the loss of one’s virginity.

The world is under the impression that college is a madhouse of 18-24 year olds just boning their way through the day: pre-breakfast penetration, a little afternoon delight and a midnight hump sesh to round off the day. The world is not entirely wrong. However, among the sex fiends and philanderers are (gasp!) virgins.

A study released in 2011 by the National Center for Health Statistics found that about a quarter of both male and female college seniors had never engaged in intercourse before. Since there are more than likely people losing their v-cards in the first three years of college, more than one in four of us are virgins.
And that’s okay!
Some are virgins by choice, some by circumstance. Everyone deserves the chance to lose it in a way that they are comfortable with.
The best thing about losing your virginity, though? The awesomely awkward story that usually comes out of it.

I’m serious—at the time, it seems either really monumental or really lame, but once you become more sexually active, you get to look back on your first time with humor.
I shake my head at that first experience. I lost it to my first boyfriend, a rather tall and lanky fellow whom I dated for about a year. Previous to him the furthest I’d gone was the occasional tongue kiss or over-the-sweater titty grab. Alas, I was 17, ready, and my mother was out of the house for an hour to get pantyhose at Macy’s…it was time to go for it.
I dug into my drawer for a condom I’d gotten from that year’s local gay pride parade and handed it to him. Being as awkward a couple as we were (think the couple from Juno minus the pregnancy) I said to him, “Suit up,” and he said, “Do something sexy.”
And then it happened. I’m not even sure if there’s a name for the position we ended up in, but let me put it this way: the most glorious five minutes of my life were wordless, unpleasurable and awkward. He was like a robot—despite having done it with someone with whom I had a mutual love (that’s what they called it in high school, anyway), the loss of my virginity was void of intimacy and void of excitement.
The most exciting bit of the experience was hiding in my closet rushing to put my bra back on when I heard my mother get home.
Two weeks later we were broken up. Did I ever regret it, though? No. Before we started dating, some sort of gut feeling told me I would lose my virginity to him. That gut feeling never told me we would then go on to have a fulfilling sexual relationship.
So, when should one lose their virginity? In what circumstances should it be done? In a loving relationship? On a bed of rose petals? With someone you’ll never see again? At a drunken townhouse party?
The correct answer: however you see fit. It’s your body. For some, being in a loving relationship is a non-negotiable requirement for them to lose their virginity. Some others just want to be in a relationship, no love needed. Others don’t even need the relationship component. All scenarios are okay as long as you yourself are comfortable with the situation.
Loss of virginity is also not the be-all, end-all of, well, anything. You aren’t actually losing anything. You wake up the next morning as the same person with the same inherent value.
Since that day four years ago when I entered the world of the deflowered, I’ve learned invaluable things; one of which is that oftentimes being with a new partner for the first time can be equally or even more meaningful than one’s first time ever. Some of my most intimate experiences, where I’ve truly felt like I was sharing a piece of myself with another person, haven’t even included your typical heterosexual P-in-V sex.

To any of my readers who are as of yet still virgins, look around you! Chances are you’re not the only virgin in the room. The topic of sex is thrown around enough that you might feel like the odd one out but be comfortable with where you stand. If you aren’t comfortable, then change where you’re standing—but only on your own terms.

If you’re lucky, you’ll end up with a super awkward story like mine.