I didn’t really want to do it, but he did. And that’s the story of the first time I had sex. 

Ok, fine. My body definitely wanted to do it, but mentally I just wasn’t ready. I remember laying on the couch in his parents’ living room which was dimly lit by the TV we’d almost immediately abandoned. I remember a condom was involved (I think?), and after moments of activity he finished and I cried.

My then-boyfriend was shocked. Eyes stretched wide, mouth slightly agape, he tried to comfort me with a hug, but he was still shirtless and straddling me so it didn’t feel effective. He asked me what was wrong and I told him I didn’t know. 

Aside from the fear of impending damnation (#Christianguilt), I was crying because losing my virginity sucked. There was no conversation in advance, no candles or romance, no sexy panties, not even a bed. Just a moment of passion muffled so his mom couldn’t hear.

By this point in life, I’d watched enough RomComs to know I’d done this all wrong. He wasn’t a long time boyfriend or a random handsome stranger and we’d only been together a few months. So why in the world did I agree to the sex? Well, I thought I was in love, of course.

Love, Schmove!

Every boyfriend was a potential future husband, which is a terrible philosophy for dating because it blinded me to what was happening in the present. If I had a therapist, she’d probably find a way to connect my love imbalance to something in my childhood. And now that I think about it, my would-be therapist would be right. My family was great at keeping secrets and making each other mad. We didn’t discuss feelings or personal things or show tons of affection. So, when I met a guy who was open to sharing things with me, I figured it was a match made in heaven.

As it turns out, I was really in love with a lot of ideas—about people, about the future, about status and potential—but rarely was I in love with the actual human being.

Instead of standing firm on what was important to me, I curbed my desires for the whims of My Man. I made concessions all the time but never required reciprocation. My mood and confidence often depended on whether we were in a good place. And though I never felt fully comfortable or fully like myself, I suppressed my gut feeling to runaway.

When “Ain’t Nothin’ Open That Late But Legs”

I assumed everyone held sex in high regard. High school sex was respectful and considerate. We were boyfriend and girlfriend. We made plans and went on dates. College changed all of that. It was much less structured, and I had no clue how to respond in many situations. I thought hanging out and watching movies actually meant hanging out and watching movies. I was going to chalk this up to being naïve, but the truth is, the guys were just being deceptive.

It’s alarming how much patriarchy has impacted our moral code. A lot of women I know online and irl have been tricked and coerced into sex because men don’t want to hear “no”. It’s so disgusting. We shouldn’t have to deal with breadcrumbing and manipulation to the detriment of our hearts. Women deserve honesty and respect. We deserve the right to change our minds at anytime without fear. We deserve boundaries and love.

I feel like I’m rambling now so I’m going to wrap this up….

Love and sex have been mostly sad for me. In the past, I didn’t know how to communicate or prioritize my needs. I let others dictate the way. But I’m a big girl now. I recognize my authority, I’m collecting tons of audacity, and I’m taking agency over this love life of mine.

Follow me on Twitter for more tales of love lost and other random thoughts @janellmt