From May 2012:
I am thirty-one, I have mild cerebral palsy, and I’ve never had sex. I think about it daily. Virginity is something I carry with me. Sometimes I feel like I have a scarlet (or white) V on my chest, like I’m seventeen and I can’t stop wondering when I’m going to lose it.
When I pick up a novel about a virgin, I know the plot will include her first time. Because a story about a virgin who’s still a virgin at the end of the book isn’t much of a story, is it? I’d like to be writing this as a novel, because then I could be assured of a successful outcome. But you know what they say—write what you know. I can’t write that successful outcome, that mutually satisfying and triumphant sex scene, because I haven’t experienced it. So I’m writing this blog instead. Perhaps if I write my story, I’ll make it happen. I’ll summon plot points because the universe will take notice of my readiness. Or I’ll be one of those women who writes a blog wherein nothing happens.
February 2013: Above is the introduction I wrote when I began this blog. If you want to read about how I did manage to summon plot points from the universe, start here, when I met B.
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