An Anniversary, of Sorts

Nine years ago yesterday, something momentous happened. Shield your eyes, those of you who want to retain the vision or image of a pure, innocent Amber.

Done?

Okay, nine years ago yesterday I lost my virginity. *gasp* Although I had plotted it to be the day before it happened (9/9/1999, how much more perfect could you get?), things don't always work to plan. My virginity had long plagued me, all through high school and beyond. It was almost a joke amongst all my slutty friends at the time. Who will it be? After a while, it almost became somewhat of a nuisance. Okay, I'm tired of writing the word "virginity", let's call it... Margot.

Margot and I had started out like those neighbors you have that you don't really notice until something interesting happens, like the cops are called, or their dog gets loose. She didn't bother me, I didn't bother her. Even when the boys started asking after Margot, I still ignored her presence. Until that fateful day in my junior year, when I was a teacher's assistant, and roaming the halls with nothing to do. I ran into a friend, and talked with him for awhile. The next day came, and all of a sudden the existence of Margot was questioned. What? First of all, should I relinquish Margot, you think I'd do it at school?! REALLY? That's what you think of me? Secondly, I do have morals, you know. I'm not about to just lay Margot out for any friend passing by. Of course, you know how it is with Margots, people don't believe you. Even your friends begin to doubt you.

That's when I started to debate- what AM I waiting for? Oh, yes, a steady boyfriend who doesn't call me Knobs. That would be nice. Hey, call me choosy, whatever. At one point, I think even my mom thought I'd asked Margot to walk the plank. Sex-ed gave you gobs and gobs of condoms, and some of us didn't use them all to water balloon our fellow students. Ahem. Well, not ALL of them. That little conversation with mom went like this, "Um, Amber, you DO know condoms aren't 100% safe, right?" Me: "OH GOD, MOM! Don't even TALK about that with me! And get out of my ROOM!" Yes, totally mature.

As the years went on, friends said goodbye to their Margots, and bothered me about mine, asking all sorts of questions: Are you waiting until marriage? Not that I know of. Is it a religious thing? I don't have a religion, so I'm going to say no. Are you scared? Of what? No! Pretty soon after graduation, I had my first job. Working at Jamba Juice really helped you "get out there". I had dates all over the place, but nothing serious, no one to make me think: this is the one. At that point it was a novelty for my co-workers, almost a sideshow. Meet the incredibly Chaste Woman! I was just trying to find a steady guy who wouldn't immediately drop me, in LA, you'd think it would be easy! Well, it was TWO full years after graduating from high school, and good ol' Margot wouldn't leave. I stopped thinking of her as a virtue, and started thinking of her like some kind of virus. Guys thought I was an oddball- an almost 20 year old virgin? In Los Angeles? Of course, while it was a novelty, no one wanted the kind of commitment I would need to give Margot the boot.

Until I met A. I had met him the previous year, at a party for my good friend. I thought he was Mr. Right. He wasn't Mr. Wrong OR Mr. Right, it turned out. I guess lying to him and telling him I was half Armenian (the friend who brought me to the party was Armenian, as it was an Armenian party!) didn't really set the stage for a good healthy relationship. Annnyway. We had met in 1998, and he bugged the crap out of me. I couldn't stand him. Then we ran into each other a little later, and hit it off. We began dating, which was hard, given the distance- he was a student at UCSD. So, months passed, and we got along really well. Our friends liked each other, and we were happy. So, I sent him an email one Thursday night telling him it was time to evict Margot. I got a call the next day, he was in town. Wow, that was some speedy drive home!

The actual act I will keep to myself, but it was a Friday night, and it was in a car. Yes, in a car. A two-door. Every time I moved, I hit my head on the overhead light, turning it on and off. It was like a freaking disco in that car. Still, it was finally over with. Our relationship lasted a good three years, until he told me he had met someone new- and get this- She's MEXICAN! Damn! So, it ended, I finally got to stop lying about my race, and we both moved on and married other people. He married the girl he left me for, so that's nice. As you all know, I married Paul. Sometimes I want to email A to see how he's doing, and to break the "I'm really not Armenian" news, but it's been such a long time since we've spoken that now I think it's best to leave things alone. We had many good times, and I was able to stop being such a headcase about Margot.

If you speak to my parents, I'm still a virgin. Despite being married. I'm sure it's best for us all to just let it go at that. It's funny to me, because now that we're trying to conceive, when I actually DO get pregnant it'll be like, "Oh my god, now everyone in the world will know I've had SEX." Apparently, I'm still a child!