Titled so because Once, I was a born again virgin was blatantly false and Twelve times, I was a born again virgin sounded too slutty.
Three times in my life, I declared myself a born again virgin. The first time was in high school shortly after making the biggest mistake I had made up to that point. Doing this was going to somehow make it all seem as if it had never happened.
The second time was during college. I spent years waiting for a guy friend of mine to realize we were meant to be together and jump all over me in a totally inappropriate manner. I was delusional and even found his uni-brow attractive. Hours were wasted praying to every god imaginable. I figured there was power in numbers. I figured wrong.
Then one day, I gave up, found someone to have a three year destructive relationship with, and wasted more time. After shredding my heart, I rebounded to Mali’s biological father, and then moved on to another period of born again virginity. AN ALMOST TEN YEAR PERIOD!
I would have made the perfect nun. Sure I wasn’t Catholic, was an unwed mother, but I had the abstinence thing down and looked awesome in black.
Ten years? Yes. Really? Yes. Nothing? No non-related male kisses. Not one date. Not a single mistake.
For me, a definite connection was made between love and sex. Being too busy caring for my daughter and feeling full doing so disabled me from looking around. I was all she had. She was all I had. That was enough. I had no room for mistakes.
And then there was Brian. Sex had finally gained the specialness it was supposed to have.
I had cleansed myself so thoroughly that I was okay wearing white on my wedding day even if I was 12 weeks pregnant. I’m glad I saved myself for him.
And it had only taken three, twelve, one, twenty-four, or more times…but who’s counting?