I actually had my first kiss on the same night I lost my virginity. In the spring I turned 26, as I was just completing grad school. I didn’t tell him that it was my first of either until a couple weeks after the fact. Being a hyper-virgin wasn’t something I ever talked about to anyone. It was an embarrassing fact about myself– but honestly, I’d always felt like such an odd duck, and like I had to hide so much of myself from the world at large, that it really seemed more like a bullet point on a list than my One Freakish Shame.

I went out with this guy a few times, and I was floored to discover that I could be attracted to someone without getting that panicky fear that had drenched all my previous crushes. On our third date, he cooked me dinner and I brought a couple movies for us to watch, and after a fair amount of wine, he asked if he could kiss me on the cheek. I don’t know which of us was drunk, but what I heard was “Would you kiss me on the cheek?” which I thought was a very slick move– so I did.

I didn’t have any expectations for that night. My philosophy through the whole dating experience had been to pay attention to myself and do what made me feel happy, and I felt comfortable enough with him to be confident that he’d understand if I asked to stop at any point. Every new step felt so natural and so good, though, that I never did.

I had read so much about sex beforehand that I wasn’t expecting fireworks– I knew the first time is usually kind of awkward and often a little awful. I was shocked when it was AMAZING. It helped a lot that he knew what he was doing, I think, so even though I was flying by instinct, we kept going for hours.

Afterwards, not knowing the protocol (and having a vague memory from “Seinfeld” that guys preferred to sleep alone) I hopped up and got dressed to leave. Then decided to stay. Then thought it would be too awkward to go home to my parents’ house in the morning, and got dressed to leave, and then finally figured “fuck it” and climbed back into bed to curl up with him the rest of the night.

I’ve never liked the phrase “lost virginity,” because it puts such a cold, miserable light on a natural step forward in a person’s life. What’s being lost, exactly? Innocence? A hymen? Sure, for some, but I lost neither of those the night I “lost it”, since I’d gotten myself a sex toy years before, and didn’t feel violated or wiser or whatever the opposite of “innocent” is in the morning. I felt like I’d gained something really precious.