The Olive Press

I was reading an article about abstinence in Rolling Stone magazine when I stumbled upon a picture caption under a lovely snapshot of a woman dolled up like some kind of freaky Jesus porcelain doll. The dancer, as the caption reminded me, was too short to be a Rockette, but her lusty long legs and her heavy bosom were untouched by a man because she wanted her purity to be a secret from all heaving neantherdals. It was about that time when I decided that I ought to take some sort of action against this neo-abstinence thing. Granted, abstinence has a long history of social acceptance, and man (and woman's) control over carnal lust has been adored and adulated since sin was fathomed, but I doubt that the media blitz of purity campaigners was as pronounced as it is today. Some how, I cannot imagine that the popes of the middle ages conducted poster campaigns with witty slogans such as "Cherry picking is best left for the fruits. They're going to hell anyway."

Really, I dont have anything against people who desire to save themselves until marriage, or until the first willing anal experimenter. The in-your-face virginity advertising and gloats only miff me slightly, not really enough to actually use my energy to write something damning. What really ticks me off is how people keep portraying virginity as a gift to be given. It irks me that people have taken a noun, carried it up on the mountain, and have sat it there without caring that the thin mountain air will eventually ravage its delicate lungs. I may not me making much sense, so let me attempt to illustrate what I mean with a few sentences.

"She is a virgin."

Lets deconstruct this sentence. We have the pronoun "she," which is the subject of the sentence. The predicate, or "is a virgin," consists of a verb, an article, and another noun. This, in short, implies that the pronoun, "she," is in the act of being a virgin. That, I believe, is the proper way to describe a virgin. It ought to stop there, but language is a flexible and sometimes malodorous being which, when used incorrectly, billows forth like a foamy cloud of mustard gas. The only difference is that language doesn't char the lungs of those it infects, although it may have a disastrous influence on the minds of its hosts.

The proper statement of "She is a virgin," gave way to "She has her virginity." Ah, "virgin," has now mutated into a new noun, "virginity." The mutation eliminated the process of being and has now substituted it with the process of having. We aren't virgins as much as we contain a mythical substance, ordained "virginity." This is where the language mutates much like a malfeasant cancer. Because "virginity," is now a state of having, it can be freely given. A girl gives a guy her virginity. I'm left to wonder where she stores her virginity. Apparently, she stores it in some kind of box. Now, I've been with a virgin before and I definitely did not see a virginity in her box. Perhaps I wasn't looking for the right thing? Was it supposed to come in a pretty little package with shiny paper wrapping and a little, cute bow on top?

I know a few of you are claiming that the virginity of which I speak is nothing more than the hymen. I remain unconvinced that the hymen is a true sign of virginity. Most girls tear their hymen when they are children. I mean, horseback riding, gymnastics, and other activities which exert pressures on the crotch muscles will eliminate any flimsy sort of vaginal covering. Also, if the girl uses tampons, chances are she ruptured her hymen. A few of you claim that bleeding after the first intercourse is a true sign of a ruptured virginity. Baby, if the girl bleeds after her first intercourse, she either wasn't wet enough, or you thrust like an uncouth, inexperienced prick. Next time, might I suggest lube, longer bouts of foreplay, and the sort of rocking motion that doesn't resemble the bolt-action of an automatic gun?

This, of course, brings me back to my original irritant, the secret of the virginity, which sounds like a bad B grade mystery flick, if you ask me. The Rockette failure claimed that her virginity was her biggest secret. I have pictures in my head of another white bread, virile Christian man donning a fedora and entering her cavernous caverns of carnal copulation in search of the secret virginity. Ah, little man, take a left at the cervix and watch out for the host of white, amoebic demons! Funnies, aside, what is the secret of the virginity? Is it in how she fucks? I bet, with all her experience, provided she doesn't read Cosmo, she'll lay there like a log and wait for the holy spirit to descend upon her and take her up to the majestic lands of orgasm, if she's even aware that such a state exists for women. Most likely, the man who possesses her will claim that her secret was that she fucks like a dead fish.

Even if the virginity of a woman was a sure, physical thing, then that does not discount the fact that no man has any physical evidence of his virginity. So, when a man claims that he's saving his virginity, or that he'll give his wife his virginity on his wedding night, to what exactly does he refer? When I lost my virginity (I found it under the couch cushions a few years later), I didn't feel like I did anything but dirty up another condom. But, if I must be honest, I confess that I did not explore what I left in the condom for any traces of virginity. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know for what I'm looking.

I know I'm being a bit literal and that "virginity" is one of those metaphorical nouns, much like the soul, or the spirit. People, obviously, have no qualms about buying, selling, or saving souls. Why, then, should they have any qualms about keeping virginities secret or saving them in boxes for the proper person? I suppose that's all fine and dandy, but I would much rather they keep their metaphorical virginities secret and away from my precious media waves. Allow us our useless metaphors about the taste of language (Alpha-bits does not count as eating a word), and the stench of an idea (Woa, Einstein left a big, stinky one!), but keep your virginities under the covers.


(Yes, this was written tongue in cheek, but I think I made some interesting points.)

D