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This one’s for Pitrika and Sara —the first time is just that—the first.

Ah, the first time. It’s the one experience society has hyped up more than pumpkin spice lattes and royal weddings combined. If you’ve ever wondered why it’s such a big deal, join the club. For women, losing your virginity comes with a loaded suitcase of expectations, myths, and unsolicited advice from everyone—including people who really shouldn’t have an opinion.

And when it finally happens? Let’s just say it’s rarely as cinematic as the movies make it out to be. There’s no romantic slow-motion montage, no perfectly timed sunrise through the window. Sometimes, there’s just awkward fumbling, a sock mysteriously vanishing, and the realization that your playlist really didn’t need Ed Sheeran on shuffle.

But what happens when you don’t regret your first time, but you’re not sure it lived up to the fantasy you’d built in your head?

The Mythology of Virginity

For women, virginity is treated like a Fabergé egg—fragile, priceless, and something you’d better not hand over to just anyone. We’re raised to think it’s this monumental event that defines us. Lose it the “wrong way,” and suddenly you’re questioning everything: Was he the right guy? Was it the right time? Did I pick the right underwear?

Spoiler alert: virginity is not some magical transformation. It’s not a “before” and “after” photo of your life. It’s just one of many firsts you’ll have, and like most firsts—your first job, your first car, or your first attempt at eyeliner—it probably won’t be perfect.

The thing about losing your virginity is that it’s less about the act itself and more about what it means to you. And no, there’s no universal handbook for this. Some people save it for marriage, others for love, and some, like you, give it to someone they like but aren’t quite dating. And all of those choices are valid.

The Guilt Trip

So, let’s talk about guilt. You don’t regret losing your virginity, which is great—you’re already one step ahead. But you’re questioning if that’s how your first time should’ve gone, and girl, let me tell you: there’s no right way.

You like this guy, but he lives in another country, and the “what ifs” are swirling in your head. Would things be different if he lived closer? Would you even want to date him if he did? The truth is, long-distance or not, this experience doesn’t have to come with a contract. You had a connection, you made a choice, and you don’t owe anyone—including yourself—an apology for that.

Here’s the thing: your first time isn’t about ticking off boxes or living up to some fantasy script. It’s about what felt right in the moment. If you were present, if you felt good about your decision at the time, then you’ve already done it “right.” Guilt doesn’t need to be part of the package.

Let’s Get Real

Now, about those first-time FAQs:

Does it hurt? Maybe a little, maybe not at all. Everyone’s body is different. It’s less about pain and more about communication, comfort, and, let’s be honest, a little lube never hurts.

Will it be pleasing? Not necessarily. First times are often more about figuring out logistics than fireworks. And that’s okay! It gets better.

Is it like the movies? Only if the movie is a rom-com where the lead character spends five minutes trying to figure out how to gracefully remove their socks.

And here’s something we don’t talk about enough: your first time is as much about you as it is about them. Were you honest about what you wanted? Did you feel safe and respected? If the answer is yes, then you’ve already had a great first experience—even if it didn’t come with fairy lights and an orchestral score.

Moving Forward

So, what now? You’ve had your first time, and you’re wondering what it all means. Here’s the secret: it only means what you decide it does. If it felt good and you’re not carrying regret, then celebrate that. If it’s left you questioning things, that’s normal too. Use it as a chance to get to know yourself better—what you want, what you value, and how you want to feel in your next experience.

Virginity doesn’t define you. It’s not a badge of honor or a scarlet letter. It’s just one moment in a lifetime of moments, some of which will be messy, some magical, and all entirely yours. There’s so much more ahead.

So, chin up, guilt down, and don’t let anyone—least of all yourself—tell you how your story should be written.

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