The Dilemma of a Fresh Bride: Confessions of a WOman Possesed by Ghosts of Her Virginity

May 28th, 2025

I was staring at nothing really particular when visions of when I lost my virginity transported me back to that parking lot. It was shockingly unceremonious, with a boy I knew little about besides the fact that he wanted to excavate what I passively preserved and that I, for his desire (and my indifference), loved him. Love had been an unraveling then—loosened threads and weak stitches along fabric that should have been a mending.

I laid, exposed, on the back seat of his car. My limbs were limp—or maybe it would be more accurate to say they were paralyzed. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel when I was moments away from giving away what I had been warned since antiquity to keep. I wasn’t sure how to feel. There was, of course, the nerves. What if this were to end in pregnancy—tragedy really. What would my mother say if she saw me now? I could almost picture her face, it’d contort at the sorry sight of me. She’d look at me as though my womb was nothing more than a bloody gory mess that lay at her feet.

I am exorcising the ghosts of my womb.