Losing My Virginity At Fourteen Ruined My Perception Of Sex

The situation surrounding my virginity losing was bizarre and somewhat blurred. I’d met this boy on Tumblr, then arranged to meet him in London. He called beforehand to ask if I was a virgin and if I wanted to have sex. I nodded meekly down the phone. It was scary yet exciting. I, the lanky acne-ridden teen so often ridiculed for my angsty attention-seeking, had arranged to have sex with an eighteen-year-old who lived in the city.

I was fourteen and, in my millennial mindset, well overdue for a fucking. Really, any sentient life form that looked my way was good enough. Virginity wasn’t a precious thing, it was a hindrance, and it gave me less to talk about at school. What better attention grab than a formal announcement that I was, at long last, no longer a virgin.

I told my mum I was going on a two-day sleepover with a friend, then took the whole £30 I had saved and went on the longest train journey of my life. It took two hours to get out of Cornwall, and when the train pulled into Plymouth I started to feel scared. Plymouth was the borderline between the Roald Dahl-esque Cornish existence and futuristic civilisation. I’d never gone beyond it, except to twice-yearly visitations of my Yorkshire-based grandparents.

When I got to London, I was terrified. The high-rise flats felt threatening, and the people didn’t pay me any attention. In my Cornish town, everyone knows everyone. You can’t possibly expect to walk into a place and not know anyone. The girl on the tills is the ‘ooh she’s grown up’ daughter of your mum’s ex-friend. Your mum’s new friend’s sister is on waitress duty. The guy on the table next to you was in the year above you at school, and he’s on a date with your best friend’s cousin. There’s no such thing as anonymity in a small town, but London isn’t like that. There isn’t time to know anyone.

The underground was a far cry from Cornish public transport; a hand-me-down coach with a 50/50 chance of breaking down on the two-hour journey back from the main town. I panicked my way through a buzz rush of business suits and pushed my way onto what I hoped was the right train.

I managed to find a seat across from the most fascinating girl I’d ever seen, at least at that point in my life. Cornwall is all wolf jumpers…

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