Sexless in the city: Confessions of a graduating virgin

Jamila Dawkins Managing Editor Emeritus

airport to take me back to St. Louis me The Talk again. We sat in silence listening to NPR for a few awkward moments before he made his rounds last, wildest semester, I guess he felt it bore repeating. “I know you know all this,” he kept saying. exactly four years earlier, when mystery debauchery laid out ahead of me. Go out with people you trust. Don’t be afraid to say no. Practice box of condoms — presumptuous, but well-meaning. tried-and-true mantras — I’d tell you that I’m an “independent Black woman who don’t need no man,” or that I’m “single by choice.” I’d lean up the cat lady tropes and take them for a spin. There’s cultural currency in independence, especially when pocket change is always enough for me.

On this, my eighth and last airport ride to St. Louis — at least for a while — I knew that four-year old box of condoms lay in my desk drawer, packaging still intact, if a little crushed and dented by time.

I could start lecturing you about media, tell you why seeing twentysomethings play 16-year-olds who rail each other after eighth period has ruined our society, indict the entire cast, crew, and production team of “Euphoria”. I could (and probably should) point to the way we raise children, direct you toward the capitalist implications before their prefrontal cortex has fact that the term “spinster” is both a prescription of occupational and romantic standing is no accident. I myths about the hymen. I could shame you for laughing at “The 40 Year-Old Virgin,” start prepping excluding the last one) are useful and employed by me often, but they don’t get to the heart of the better, it is also true that an irrational part of me still feels embarrassed to tell others that I of shame when I catch sight of that unopened pack of condoms. Intellectualizations aside, it’s hard not to feel like there’s something wrong with you when all social signs point to a life mainly faced solitude. It’s equally else is learning something that you’re not, that experiencing this fundamental coming-of-age (pun intended) moment will impart some hidden ubiquitous postcoital meaning that all of the sexthis is the basis for their prying, their entitlement to your affairs and experiences.

I could console myself (and any this) by claiming that I’m mainly seeking sexual encounters or sneaking suspicion I’d still feel the way I feel most days: like I’m falling there, and this being a letter that’s supposed to make you feel better, get indignant. Understand that these social pressures originated of culture are on your sex and relationship life, but they are not your problem. I can’t say that’ll stop you from feeling less-than, but maybe it can help you to remember that that feeling is not merited, it’s not warranted. It’s not yours. tomorrow, ten years from now, or asking questions about the status of your hymen, but I can share your indignation.

Holden Hindes Managing Editor Emeritus

To whom it may concern:

I have spent nearly four years now at Washington University. I have learned many things. I will not list them for you because that would not be interesting for you unless we were interested in the same things, and even if that were the case, you’d be better off learning them from a professor or one of your smart friends or probably even Wikipedia, than from me (a senioritis-ridden and terribly arrogant undergraduate).

I have also had many experiences. I will not list them either. You will either have similar ones, or different ones, or a combination of the two.

From the experiences you have, you will learn similar things, or different things, or both similar and different things relative to what I learned from my experiences.

But, as a senior, I’ve earned my chance to preach to the youth. More back-in-my-day-isms. Olin used to be open 24 hours all semester! BD used three a.m.!

And I’ve earned my chance to impart my wisdom unto you. One thing I learned — listen close — is that I can’t teach you anything. You’re just gonna have to do it yourself. If you start learning things about life that feel cliche, you’re probably on the right track.

See ya, Holden