Looking to Lose (completed)

*1*

"Are you sexually active?"

I cringe at the question. Not because I'm some sort of prude who is disgusted by the very idea of sex and not because I'm waiting for marriage. Not even because my mom is sitting in the small chair in the corner of the examination room, while I sit perched on the green vinyl exam table.

No, I cringe because I am a 19-yr old virgin. A just-finished-my-second-year-of-college, turning-20-in-a-month virgin. It's not by choice. One day, all my friends and I were giggling high school girls, mortified but intrigued by the idea of sex. But then came boyfriends and tinder and drunken frat parties and suddenly, everyone else has happily lost something that I cannot manage to get rid of, not for lack of trying. I've had boyfriends and random hookups, but something always seems to get in the way of actually doing the deed.

The fact that I'm a late bloomer didn't stress me out until this year, but now sex is all I can see. Movies can't stop talking about it; music revolves around it; friends are always doing it, doing each other; flyers on campus telling me to get tested for STDS because 'you never know' – though I know I know, because I. Am. A. Virgin. Even sitting here in my pediatrician's office, I can't seem to escape it the question: "Are you sexually active?"

"No," I say, perhaps a bit too adamantly, as I shake my head. With a suspicious eye, the doctor nods slowly and then grabs a cup from the shelf.

"Come with me," she says, leading me out the room down the hall to the bathroom. She stops short at the door and turns to me. "Be honest, are you sexually active? You have to tell me," she says in an almost accusatory tone.

Mortified, I take a step back and narrow my eyes at her. "No, I am not."

Still unbelieving, she tells me to pee in the cup and come back to the room when I'm finished, to run a pregnancy test on it no doubt. Wordlessly, I grab the cup and go into the bathroom, red with embarrassment. Even my pediatrician thinks I should be having sex. I groan in frustration, both from my dismal sexual state and the fact that I don't have enough pee to fill the cup.

I'm not entirely alone on the Island of Misfit Virgins. My best friend, Mila, has also never been deflowered. Sometimes it feels like it's just me and her against the world. Usually, it doesn't get us down. We've actually becomes quite apt at poking fun of ourselves. I was cooking in her apartment the other day and she handed me her EVOO with a sly smirk. "I got extra virgin, just for you," she said villainously. We both broke out into laughter, glad to at least get a good laugh out of our sad state.

My mother and I walk out of the doctor's office in silence, but right after buckling into the passenger seat, she clears her throat.

"I'm going to make an appointment for you with Beth," she says. Taking my silence for a lack of understanding, she continues. "My gynecologist."

It takes every ounce of my virgin patience to not scream in utter frustration.

"Mom," I say between gritted teeth, "I do not need to see a gynecologist."

"Honey, I know you're not comfortable with telling me about your sexual life. I'm your mother and it may be awkward for you, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with you just sleeping around willy-nilly without real protection-"

I cut her off mid-ramble/sex talk, practically shouting "I am a virgin! I don't need to see Beth because I am a virgin, okay? I. have. Never. Had. SEX!"

Starting the engine and driving on to the main road, she does not respond. I can tell that she doubts my admission, but she's raised me for 19 years and knows by now to not test me when I'm in a mood like this.