[Sexual privacy]

In my final year of junior high, a bright and kind boy was very kind to me, and I gradually developed feelings for him, but I was too afraid to talk about it and rejected him. I thought I still had the college entrance exam to worry about, so I'd think about it later. Even so, I secretly kept an eye on him. After starting university, he told me he had a girlfriend. But I had unknowingly fallen into this relationship. During his three-day visit during my freshman summer vacation, I gave him my first kiss. For the next three years, I rejected all boys. As a Scorpio, with my inherently dualistic personality, I secretly told myself: I will find a soulmate and give my virginity to them on our wedding night.
I am a 24-year-old woman, or more precisely, a woman. From a young age, I learned about beautiful love from books and understood the preciousness of a woman's virginity. My mother didn't talk to me about these things, but her comments made me understand. For four years of university, I believed that my first time should be given to my future husband.
After graduation, I stayed in the city and found a seemingly decent job. It was a newly established company. The probationary period was tough, but I performed well. The loneliness and emptiness after starting work often made me feel weak and isolated. By chance, a male colleague who joined the company at the same time entered my heart. He was the type of man I liked; perhaps because he drew comics, he had a childlike appearance. I trusted him completely. We quickly began dating. His home was on the other side of the city. Before coming here, he had spent two years working alone in another city. Having no prior social experience, I didn't realize the significance of that experience. He had a tough time, and I wanted to love him well and find ways to help him achieve his goal of publishing a book. He often instilled in me the idea of letting go in love and his reluctance to marry. He said that men nowadays don't care about virginity. This contradicted my family's and my own long-held beliefs. I accepted and disagreed with his advice with some skepticism, leading to some minor conflicts.
During the first week of our relationship, I briefly visited his home; his father and sister were there. He had rented an apartment near his workplace for convenience. On my first night there, he invited me over. I went; I longed to sleep in the arms of my lover, and I disliked the loneliness of sleeping alone. But I didn't intend to have sex. He made demands in bed, but I refused, I was nervous, and he couldn't penetrate me. I was secretly pleased because I still wanted to lose my virginity on our wedding night. I tried to satisfy his needs in other ways, as he taught me, but I couldn't agree to oral sex. This disgusted me, as I had no actual sexual experience.
Two weeks later, he broke up with me, and I couldn't refuse. The hectic work allowed me to temporarily forget my heartache. At that time, I instinctively had suicidal thoughts, but reason prevented me from doing so. I was responsible for my parents; I am an only child. Because my home wasn't in this city, and my friends were scattered all over the country. In the little free time after my busy work, I had nowhere to go, so I learned to go online and became obsessed with chatting, telling strangers all the feelings I had accumulated. Confessing and the comfort from strangers gave me a little peace.
I was rational then, deliberately avoiding online dating. I still wanted to be responsible for myself and my parents. After the breakup, we remained colleagues, still seeing each other and interacting. I had to pretend nothing was wrong. Because our relationship was well-disguised, few people at work knew the truth; they simply assumed we were very good friends. Four months later, I learned he was living with his female assistant. I felt a surge of madness. I remembered him once jokingly saying that hooking up with his assistant was too easy. In the two or three days following this, he shook his head and sighed, saying to me, sitting at my computer, "You're too conservative." Before turning away, he muttered, "Old maid." I didn't move, but I felt a profound, earth-shattering shock. Later, I thought that I, sitting there then, was like a weathered rock—the surface might not have changed, but inside, cracks had already formed.
From childhood, teachers, relatives, neighbors, to my current boss, have always described me as naive. In reality, this is just one side of my inherently dualistic personality, only manifested in daily life.
I still believe I loved him then because the hurt he caused me was heartbreaking. Meanwhile, some male colleagues at work, unaware of the situation, remained kind to me. Six months later, the only son of a veteran employee at headquarters also became our colleague. He's three years younger than me and works in the same department. The first time he saw me, he complimented my looks to my face. I understood his intentions. Later, he mentioned intermittently that he wanted to help me achieve all my dreams, and that he wouldn't accept a girlfriend no more than three years older than him. He's a very intelligent guy, and he has a good relationship with my ex-boyfriend. Touched by his kindness, I honestly told him everything about my boyfriend and me. He was surprised. Soon after, during a work trip together, he told me he hoped I would become his girlfriend. I couldn't accept it; I felt nothing for him. Later, he started dating another female colleague he'd always been close to, who was two years older than me.
Not long after, in the office, this guy, three years younger than me (maybe), said mockingly to my ex-boyfriend next to me, "Old maid." They might not have been talking about me, because they weren't looking at me. But I heard it, and I didn't understand why they would ridicule a woman who wasn't a virgin. This reminded me of the first time I heard my ex-boyfriend say "old maid" in a blaming tone. I was in great pain, but I couldn't show it.
I was so distressed, and I didn't understand why. I asked another male colleague if he cared if the woman he loved wasn't a virgin. He said that if the girl he loved truly loved him, he wouldn't care. At the same time, my mother and my closest cousin warned me on the phone not to have any sexual relations with men before marriage. I was exhausted.
Online, many people liked me because I was polite yet also showed my lively nature. They didn't know this other side of my personality. I used measured jokes online to release my distress and forget my troubles. But after going offline, there were still unresolved questions, and no one gave me a definite answer. These unresolved issues also seriously affected my work. I saw my ex-boyfriend every day! But I couldn't give up this job. I really wanted to die then.
At that time, a man I met at work showed interest in pursuing me. He worked in the travel industry. He wasn't a local, but he was very capable and thoughtful, and had some money. But he lacked knowledge and was severely lacking in manners. But he wasn't a bad person. Feeling disheartened, I often received invitations from him after work. He introduced me to his cousin. She was a very nice girl. Their care warmed my heart. He showed concern for me whenever possible: he always offered to carry my bag when we went shopping… even when we visited his cousin, he offered to wash my feet and pour the water before bed. I was incredibly touched, but I resolutely refused. I didn't want to owe him anything because I felt I couldn't give him love. Sometimes I hesitated: "Forget it, I'm tired." During the
National Day holiday, I received another invitation from him. His cousin's boyfriend was visiting Wuhan and wanted me to come over. That night, his cousin and her boyfriend stayed at a hotel. Late at night, I went back to his and his cousin's rented room with him. I slept in his cousin's room. After I lay down, he came in and sat on the edge of the bed, begging me. I stayed under the covers and ignored him. He hugged me, squeezed under the covers, and said he just wanted to hold me while I slept. I hesitated for a moment and didn't stop him. When everything was about to happen, I didn't stop him. I admit I softened and couldn't resist the temptation. A sudden pain snapped me back to reality, and my pained expression made him hesitate to make another move. I firmly pushed him away. I threatened him that if he didn't go back to his own room, I would leave immediately. After he reluctantly left the room, I noticed a patch of bright red blood the size of a fingernail on the toilet paper I had used to wipe myself. I was terrified.
Early the next morning, I woke up first. As dawn broke, I dressed and quietly left the house. I didn't know how to face anything anymore. Afraid that he would wake up and chase after me, I took a taxi and rushed to the train station. I only breathed a sigh of relief after boarding the train home.
Please allow me to catch my breath; although it's all in the past, I will never want to relive that scene. During the National Day holiday at home, I felt an unprecedented sense of ease. I didn't think about anything that had happened in the past, and surrounded by family, my tense heart gradually relaxed. When the National Day holiday ended, I returned to work. He searched everywhere for me without hesitation. I didn't dare leave the office building all day because he was waiting there. He called my pager and the office phone. The colleague I was supposed to answer the phone said I wasn't there. At that moment, I was simply terrified.
He finally reached me on the phone, and I hastily and fearfully refused all his requests. His attitude softened. He even invited me out. I gradually calmed down, only agreeing to go if his cousin was there.
One night in mid-December, he invited me to a coffee shop. It was a public place, so I didn't refuse. There, after saying a few words, he proposed to me, promising me a wonderful life. I felt both sad and amused. Sad because I couldn't love him, even though he was sincere. Amused because someone I didn't love proposed to me, and the person I loved had said he wouldn't get married.
Around this time, I met a graduate student at an art academy online, four years my senior. I discovered he was from the same region as me, a fellow townsman. We barely talked, only exchanged one or two phone calls, and then invited each other to go dancing at the university. Exhausted, I had a vague feeling that something was about to happen. After meeting him, it wasn't love at first sight as you might imagine; he wasn't the kind of outgoing man I liked. But perhaps it was the same weariness that brought us together. Before making love, I asked him if he cared about virginity. He said he didn't. I told him it was my first time. I didn't feel ashamed saying that, nor did I feel like I was lying. Because it truly was my first time, initiated by me. I didn't stop him in any way. I endured the pain. I hoped to calmly, like an old-fashioned couple, slowly entering into the feeling with him.
After he fell asleep, I saw a very faint bloodstain on the toilet paper he had used to wipe. In the morning, we cleaned the bed together. I noticed his expression: when he lifted the covers, he carefully looked at the sheets. There was no blood on the sheets.
All the bloody marks representing virginity were ones I had only seen myself.
From that moment on, I had completely said goodbye to my physical virginity. That day was January 8, 2004, two months after my 23rd birthday.
This fact gave me a strange feeling. I didn't think about whether I regretted it. I felt a ridiculous sense of vengeful pleasure.
I didn't take that graduate student seriously; I continued to act solely on instinct. I even went to his place twice more later. Every time, it was after my night shift on Saturdays that I'd catch the last bus across the river at 11 pm. Seeing him waiting for me at the gate made me feel at peace, like a weary bird returning to its nest. At the same time, a voice inside me said: he was my lover. We never talked about the future, and rarely even about our current situations. I could only leave it to fate.
The second time, he paged me late at night. Because I had to work the night shift, I didn't really want to go. He said it was the last time we'd see each other before he went home for the New Year, and asked me to come. After finishing my night shift, rushing to catch the bus in the cold street, I felt a strange mix of self-pity and the feeling of a moth drawn to a flame. None of this was normal. I thought, everything had turned upside down. I felt like I'd become emotionally vulnerable. Or maybe not, I couldn't explain my feelings.
That night, after we arrived, he suddenly had severe stomach pain. Helpless, I helped him take a taxi to the hospital. He kept groaning. I tried my best to support him, who was almost a head taller than me, as we walked into the hospital. I paid for the registration and medication myself in the late-night hospital, comforting him. After two hours of fussing and receiving an injection, his stomach pain finally subsided. I helped him back to his small bachelor apartment. He seemed somewhat moved; in the latter half of the night, he was extremely tender, trying to make me feel good. This wasn't the way I approved of love and gratitude. But I couldn't refuse. I tried to accept his way. Who knows if this was love? Perhaps it was just a lonely man's way of expressing gratitude?
After that night, he went back to his hometown. It was just before his graduation. He never told me where he was going or what job he was doing. I asked him briefly twice on the phone, but he didn't answer. I didn't ask again. I told myself to leave it to fate. Actually, I didn't love him at all; it was just a feeling of pity for someone as lonely as me.
During the Spring Festival holiday, he didn't page me. I had held onto hope for him; he was the first man I had ever given my body to, even though I was emotionally indifferent towards him. At the same time, I had an indifferent attitude; before we had sex, I was mentally prepared for nothing to happen. So his silence didn't bother me much.
Shortly after I started work, it was Valentine's Day. He paged me to wish me a happy Valentine's Day. I felt a self-mocking laugh: we were just lovers. The first Saturday after I started work, he called and said he missed me and wanted me to come over. This was the third time. This time, I went again. I was torturing my feelings. That night, he showed me a foreign pornographic DVD, the first time I'd ever watched anything like it. Once inside, I asked him if he missed my body or me as a person during the Spring Festival. He didn't deny missing my body. I saw a cruel smile creep onto my inner self.
I felt his excitement on my body, and I just found it funny. Later, he asked for oral sex, something he had taught me before. But I felt nothing. In a rush, I told him that it was because of oral sex that I broke up with my ex-boyfriend. He didn't say anything, and didn't touch me again. I went to sleep peacefully. The next morning, as usual, I didn't eat breakfast. He saw me onto the bus and left.
After that, I never contacted him again, and he never paged me again. A month later, I left a message on his pager as a prank: I've never loved you, but I've never lied to you either. That was the truth.

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