From being strict about maintaining my sexual purity to becoming someone who can’t go a week without getting intimate, my sex life has undergone a drastic transformation. I’m sure you’re curious about what changed. A lot did—my sex life, my perception of sex, and my understanding of myself. All of it shifted in a year.

I would say one of the biggest decisions I made this year was giving in to sex. Growing up in a very religious family, I had this purity going on, so I was saving myself for marriage. Although apart from the Christian belief about sex and purity, my virginity was important to me. It was something I wanted to protect, a source of pride and uniqueness that I believed would shield me from inevitable embarrassment. But even as I upheld these ideals, I fed my curiosity by secretly indulging in erotic novels and movies. I told myself it was harmless because I believed watching and reading wouldn’t change my decision to wait until marriage.

Over time, my curiosity deepened. I found myself Googling questions about sex, climax, and even things like squirting. I convinced myself it was normal to want to understand these things, so at least I wouldn’t be naive when the time finally came.

Despite my decision to stay away from sex, I wanted a romantic relationship, but the desire for one stopped when I found out no one was ready to date me without involving sex. I eventually decided to stop pursuing relationships altogether and wait for marriage.

When I was ready to give up, I met Sam, who seemed different. He agreed to date me without sex, saying he wasn’t big on it either. I didn’t love him, but I was excited about possibly having a relationship that aligned with my boundaries. We allowed ourselves some intimacy—kissing, smooching, and cuddling— but nothing beyond that. Things were going well until our first make-out session, which led to our breakup.

Before that day, we discussed cuddling and planned to cuddle when we next met because we were both exhausted from our various weeks and hadn’t had a chance to see each other.

The day finally came, and I was seated on his couch with him beside me, having random conversations. He touched my body randomly, too, as we spoke, and I did the same.

Then he asked me to sit on his lap, and I did. Before I knew it, while still on his lap, he pushed me to the couch, with my back lying on it, and then he leaned in to kiss me. The kiss was unexpected, but I was okay with it. So I kissed him back. It was my first kiss. I was so nervous. A lot of thought was running through my head. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the correct thing, but I kept calm and went with the flow. I matched the motion of his tongue, and he did mine.

I opened my eyes to look at him, and he seemed to be having a good time. I noticed he had a boner, too. Encouraged, I wrapped my hands around his head as we kissed. As things got more passionate, he began touching me—first my breasts, then moving his hand toward my pants.

That was my limit. I ended the make-out session, and while he didn’t say anything, I could sense his frustration. We didn’t speak for days, and when I finally reached out, I decided to end the relationship. To my surprise, he agreed without protest, which hurt more than I expected.

I thought the breakup would be the end of it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It awakened a part of me I hadn’t explored before. I found myself craving that intimacy again. Then, I met Zion during that phase, and he made everything worse. Zion was one of those guys who wouldn’t stop asking me for a relationship. He did and said everything to convince me. Despite my initial resistance, his dirty talk and seductive words broke down my walls. So, I gave in.

That night we met, I had the best sex of my life. He did everything he said he would do to me, and I did moan out his name in pleasure. He was so good. We had sex back to back, and I discovered that I had a high libido. Luckily, Zion could match my energy. He was ready to give it to me anytime and anywhere.

When our relationship ended a few months later, I didn’t stop seeking that thrill. Instead, I became less interested in meaningful relationships and more focused on the physical aspects.

My body count increased significantly, and while I sometimes mourn the loss of the person I used to be, the girl who felt special and unique because of her sexual purity, I can’t say I’m unhappy. I’ve embraced who I am now, even though I wonder how different things might have been if I’d never let Sam kiss me that day.

Am I content with the way I’ve changed? Yes, in many ways. But I still miss the sense of pride and exclusivity that came with my earlier choices.

Dorcas Akintoye
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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.