I’ve been having a very Samantha Jones week, during which I’ve talked to everyone in this really horny voice, because guess what? I’m SUPER HORNY.
I think it’s residual horniness from being in New York in all of that snow (the cold makes me horny). So even though it’s already hot here, and I’m sweaty and don’t want to touch anyone in any way at all, I’m still like HEY BOYS WHAT’S UP?!?!?
I want to toss my virginity like a salad: quickly, casually, tastefully. And soon. Because it’s about to get really muggy in the South. That’s not a euphemism. Well, but maybe it is.
Virginity is not that big of a deal. I used to think that the difference between people who had and hadn’t had sex was the way Esther Greenwood described it in The Bell Jar—that people who had done it had something in their eyes that marked them as separate—but I know now that this isn’t true. I know because there was this couple in high school who lorded the fact that they were having sex over everyone as if they knew so much more about it, or as if everyone who hadn’t had sex thought they were doing something crazy and terrible. In reality I just thought it was healthy and normal, and nothing in their eyes signified a difference. There was no image of the other person suspended in their pupils.
Sex is not the only thing that’s been on my mind. In fact, the most important things to me right now are as follows: (1) getting accepted into one of the colleges I applied to so that I can transfer; (2) RuPaul; (3) Carrie Bradshaw’s happiness and fulfillment; and (4) getting over high school.
But I’m ready, you know, to “lose my innocence.” Also, it’s ridiculous that losing your virginity is referred to as a loss of innocence. Why do we have primarily negative terminology for something that is, like, totally not bad at all?
I’m going to keep on praying to Samantha Jones and making eyes at all the cute boys. ♦