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Yes, it’s happened too many annoying times for me to count.
I walk into a room full of friends or acquaintances deep in juicy conversation, and as soon as they see me, the topic casually shifts to something blah, like the World Series or midterms.
Whatever. I know they were talking about some wild sexual encounter and didn’t want me, the poor little virgin, to be uncomfortable and have to cover my little virgin ears and close my innocent virgin eyes.
That’s right: the dreaded ‘V’ word and the entire stigma that surrounds it. Waiting until marriage is a conscious choice I’ve made as a practical, adult person, and yet it often results in getting treated like a baby among my peers, a baby who is incapable of understanding life’s greater meanings.
Being subjected to this type of treatment and observing the status quo surrounding me has led me to ponder several questions furiously, all to no avail.
Why do some people wrap their virginity in a fuzzy security blanket, lock it in an iron box and place it on a pedestal? And why do some visualize the concept of sex as a mere physical act, disconnected from the complex emotions of the human soul?
And most importantly, is one of these choices more correct than the other, or are they both far too extreme

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