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Hey, I’m No Longer a Virgin 🤦‍♀️



I woke up the next morning, disgusted. Not just at what happened the night before, but at myself. Louis seemed like a good guy, but for some reason, the whole experience unsettled me to my core.

This wasn’t how I wanted my first time to be. I had kept my virginity for twenty-five years, thinking I’d give it away with pride, not regret. Yet here I was, stripped of what I once called my virtue, and I couldn’t stop replaying it in my mind.

I could blame ovulation. I could say my body betrayed me. But the truth was heavier: I had betrayed myself.

Louis and I met at the park. He was short—5’6 at most—while I towered at 6’1. Normally, I might have let height cloud my judgment, but something about him pulled me in. I loved his ideas, his dreams, the way he made me feel seen. Maybe, I thought, we could work.

We kept meeting. And slowly, I convinced myself he felt the same way. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. His signals were confusing, green lights that flickered into red. But I stayed. I cared. Especially when he shared the pain he was going through. I wanted to be understanding, supportive.

Then came that fateful night. He invited me over. My body was screaming with ovulation symptoms, but I ignored every warning. I went like a lamb to the slaughter.

At his place, he offered me red wine. I can’t remember the name, but it was sweet and strong. And mixed with my hormones? Dangerous.

We talked. We laughed. Then came the kiss. His hands wandered, and panic rushed through me. I pulled back, reminding myself, I’m a virgin. This has to stop here.

But Louis leaned close and whispered, “Relax, I don’t intend to have sex with you.”

Oh, if only I knew better. A man’s whisper in moments like that is worse than the serpent’s in Eden. I believed him. I let my guard down. I drank more. I stayed.

The night blurred. Another kiss. More touching. My body betrayed me. This time, I didn’t resist. He pushed forward, and I surrendered.

The details are hazy, but the feelings remain: I felt good. I felt different. I felt guilty. Disappointed. Disgusted.

And then morning came.

Louis changed. His warmth turned cold. He asked me when I planned to leave—as if I hadn’t just shared something sacred with him. Naively, I asked, “So… what are we now?”

He stared at me and said flatly, “We’re friends.”

Friends. After all of that.

“I thought you liked me,” I whispered, holding back tears.

“I never said I wanted a relationship,” he replied. “I told you I’m not ready for anything serious.”

My heart shattered. I had given him something I’d protected for years, and he treated me like nothing more than a moment of release. I stood up, washed myself, dressed, and asked him to open the door.

He tried to speak, but I couldn’t hear him. The pain was too loud.

Now I’m here, replaying everything in my head.

How could I have been this foolish? 😭😭

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