Rory Levine: A rite of passage loses its relevance

I never thought I'd end up like this, in this predicament, not in a million years. Even when I look back, I can't quite figure it out, how it happened, how I got myself into this mess. I guess I always assumed that it would somehow magically work itself out, kinda like those environmental problems that turn up in the newspapers on the slow days, like global warming and increased UV hazards.

But when October blew into Philadelphia with one helluva cold front last week, it brought the cruel realization that somehow, time had indeed caught up to me, and that I had become what I'd always feared: a 21-year-old virgin!

Yep, you read that right, shocking as it may seem. I didn't actually believe that college senior virgins existed either, categorizing them in the same group of fictional characters running rampant through society: Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Macy Gray fans. But yet, here I was: living, breathing proof that sometimes, "have sex for the first time" mistakenly gets left off the lifelong "To Do" list.

It's not even like I have a good excuse. I'm not some devout, Jesus-loving Catholic who fears all mortal sins -- heck, I'm not even a Christian! And while I certainly applaud those who actively choose to hold off until marriage, choosing to believe that the big V is the best wedding present they could give to one another, it's never been a motivating force for me -- I always believed in test-driving the car before signing the lease myself.

Nope, I accept full responsibility for my own lameness that landed me in this bland, beige realm of sexual purgatory. But as I bashfully looked around this barren wasteland of the sexless, I found a surprising amount of company who also missed the train to Orgasm-ville, population two.

So as the outside temperature (and my self-esteem) started to plummet, I found myself thinking more and more about the nature and place of virginity, and its subsequent passing, in the 21st century, widely considered to be a culture dominated by sex. What place does this definitive rite of passage from youth to adulthood hold for college students who have been drowning in all things erotic from the onset of puberty? With the assumption, however broad, that nearly everyone will cross that sex threshold before death, does it even matter anymore when, where and with whom that proverbial cherry is popped? In other words, has "losing it" lost its relevance?

Virginity's a pretty touchy subject to begin with, with all sorts of definitions tossed about. What exactly details the loss of virginity? Is it strict vaginal penetration by a penis, to get all biological? Do heterosexuals and homosexuals have different definitions then? What about oral sex? With such vague criteria open to so many interpretations, it seems, at least on the surface, downright absurd to take it all so seriously.

To go even further, the vast majority of first-timers aren't exactly the amateur porn stars they've imagined themselves to be in countless fantasies leading up to the big moment. Most people confess that it was clumsy, awkward and embarrassing -- and that's just getting undressed and opening the condom wrapper. By the time it actually starts getting X-rated, it's over -- first-time guys last a matter of seconds, leaving their female partners frustrated, unsatisfied and physically sore from their fumbling performance.

And how many stories do we all hear about couples that rushed into sex, only to break up immediately afterwards because whatever honesty and patience had begun the relationship had evaporated during those brief minutes of naked bliss? Heck, it's little wonder so many of us have held out, blindly hoping that with age comes experience and genital satisfaction.

And yet, virginity is still the hot topic in high schools and college campuses all across America. From American Pie-style contests to get it over with before the Senior Prom to endless speculation about Britney's self-declared purity, there seems to be no escaping this time-honored ritual to break into an adulthood of, well, lots more sex.

Maybe, in the end, though, it's not at all about the much-ballyhooed actual act of intercourse. I've long agreed with the tagline that "if you're not able to talk about sex, you shouldn't be having it." Since most lovers concede that their first time wasn't much to brag about and that they haven't seen or spoken with their initial partner in ages, maybe it's more about just getting to that point, being able to consider the option and take that first "step" into the unknown, even if it does involve falling flat on their face. Much like our first steps are far from a marathon run, maybe our first sex is exactly the same -- simply to prove to ourselves, and everyone else, that we're ready to do it.

Or maybe it's just about finally erasing any lingering claims of childhood, welcoming the next stage with whatever debauchery is available. And while that sure sounds good in theory, once it's gone, you can never get it back again -- the innocence, the simplicity, the honesty.

For now, though, I'm OK sleeping alone, refusing to settle for some meaningless few minutes out of sheer desperation. After all, there's only so much room in a twin extra-long bed...

Rory Levine is a senior Communications major from West Nyack, N.Y.

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