The Cherry Conundrum

I think I misplaced my virginity.

I left it back at the diner sitting on the table, next to the tip money.

I didn’t mean to lose it.

But the thing about losing things is if we meant to lose it,

We would not have lost it.

If you intentionally lose something,

You get rid of it

You put it out with the trash or

Give it to the Salvation Army or

Maybe put it in a box and mail it to your sister

Who can’t afford the brand-new stuff.

So I lost my virginity.

I meant to get rid of it.

What good was it to me?

It was supposed to make me more valuable

But that was shit.

I didn’t want to be valuable to some man because

He would be the first man to stick his dick in me.

Where is the value in that?

Am I an item at the grocery store?

A carton of cherries that has been half eaten and

Cannot be returned?

My most precious gift was my naiveté and lack of experience?

My untainted and untouched youth?

So “the man” could feel superior?

Trust me, I’m getting rid of that shit quick.

I don’t need a man to feel any more superior than men already do.

Then I got rid of it.

And “the man” still felt superior

He could do to me what he wanted

Because it had already been done.

I had lost my value.

My greatest gift for my future husband had already been given.

I did not lose my virginity,

It was taken from me and

Part of me wanted that …

Most of me wanted it

To look different

To be different

Soft and slow

And no

“No’s”

Because then my virginity would have been

Given, Not

Taken/

Stolen/

Broken/

Popped/

Smashed/

 Ripped/

And maybe that’s why women

“Lose their virginity”

So we don’t feel empowered to hold onto it.

So we don’t feel empowered to give it away.

So we don’t feel empowered to decide

Who and

When and

Where.

So we lose our virginity.

We shrug,

What difference does it make anyway?

We were never valuable if that was our most valuable gift.