Losing it

And now for something completely different.

There was an article in the Observer Magazine yesterday about losing it.

Nope, not your temper and not your car keys...  it.

Virginity.

It's an interview with Kate Monro, whose blog collates people's experiences of this, well, experience, which is, of course, nosily and amazingly fascinating in and of itself (seriously, go read).  But what really struck me, reading the article, and before I'd even looked at the blog, was that Ms Monro "believes sharing your virginity loss story is one of the most exposing things you can do".

Now maybe it's because I've given birth, and as a result told all sorts of total- and near-strangers no end of details about my nethers, or maybe it's because blogging has made me, if anything, too open, or maybe it's just because the event itself (unlike lots of those on her blog) was pretty underwhelming, but I can't get that bothered about that particular story.  I mean, if you want to know, I'll tell you*, simple as that.  There are things I'd be worried about exposing, and that's not one of them.

But does that make me odd?  Certainly, reading the blog and the stories reprinted in the article you can see that there are people for whom this is a life-changing experience, but you could also identify at a glance those  for whom the "first time" was only a chronological necessity.

Now, I'm not going to put up a Linky so that you can all post about your virginity loss (and given that most people who read this blog are mothers, I'm going to assume this is an experience most of us have gone through) because that would be stealing Ms Monro's idea, but what I would be interested to know is this:

If I asked, would you tell me?  Or am I odd in feeling totally unprotective of that story?

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* It was on my wedding night, the bed was strewn with roses, there was a nightingale.**

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**and if you believed that....

If you are related to me and really don't want to know this sort of detail, look away now...

I was eighteen. I was travelling in Australia.  I'd been one of the last people at my (all girls' boarding) school to be kissed.  That was a big deal so I was pretty determined not to go to university a virgin and be in the same position (tee hee) again.  I met a nice bloke.  I slept with him. It was mildly uncomfortable and distinctly unexciting.  End of.  Or nearly; because he stayed in touch and came to see me at university (six hours journey) about a year later. It was pretty clear what he thought was going to happen, and I didn't want to.  The telling him that was significantly more uncomfortable than the original deed itself.

The ironic thing? I was definitely in the minority as being not a virgin at university.  Hence why I read with disbelief all those surveys that say most people lose it at 16....