Dear Gee (and Playground readers),
Thank you for this post. I feel like it's important that your story and mine are back-to-back on the Playground because the relations and contrasts between them raised a lot for me--both emotions and questions.
First, let me say that I sat with this for a full day and a half, thinking about the best way to further the discussion. I have a feeling that the comments I make here may partly come off as hurtful. Please know that this is not my intent. I know that it may hurt anyway, and I own that. But I want you and the readers to know that my aim truly is to draw out deeper discussion among us all. The relationship you described between you and your ex is truly beautiful, and I feel a deep and personal connection to your story.
That said, something I'm sitting with after reading your post is the question of what constitutes "virgin." It's certainly subjective and the answer is not cut and dry, but reading your story brought up strong feelings of invalidation for me around my relationships. Let me be clear that this is not a reaction to YOU or YOUR story/experience in particular, but to the hetero-focus of how we discuss sex in general.
I'm wondering what the difference is between your non-penetrative sexual experiences and mine. Do the types of interactions that I named as the "best [sex] I've ever had" still leave you a virgin? (I may be wrongly assuming that you went further than kissing on the lips, and if so, I apologize, but I think the question could be asked of any other straight person as well).
Through the Blog-a-thon, I've come to wonder whether I will always be considered a virgin--a guy who does not need to penetrate; a person born female who does not want to be penetrated. It seems like virginity and sex are so often defined by vaginal penetration; sex is defined as one penis and one vagina (hm. I wonder if future homophobes will take marriage discrimination laws in this country one step further...).
As a person who identifies somewhere under the rainbow-colored umbrellas of queer and trans, my sexual interactions have no such reproductive ends. But the sex I have is hella productive; it has produced intimacy, growth, self-discovery, and (multiple) orgasms. But does it not count as sex if there's no risk of pregnancy?
I wonder what readers' thoughts are on this. Specifically, I'd love to hear from straight-identified folks who consider themselves allies--How do you define "sex" and "virgin" for yourself? What are the implications of these definitions for how you view and support your queer friends and relatives?
People of all genders and orientations are welcome to share their thoughts.
With love and respect,