Female, 17, Hong Kong
I was always seen as a prude. But behind my goody-two-shoes façade, I was incredibly sexually frustrated. At seventeen, I had never been kissed. Actually, I'd never come close to being kissed, never had a puppy-love boyfriend, nothing. I even joked to a friend on a late August evening that I would never get into a relationship while I still lived in this superficial financial hub.
September came, and I met a twenty-something-year-old man while attending a business event. My first impression of him was that he was incredibly rude — he'd interrupted a good conversation between me and someone I needed a connection from. But that someone with the connections turned out to be his best friend, who had dragged him into attending this event. By the end of the night, we were almost flirting. I was happy that it had been a nice experience, and I was certain that I had made a good impression on Mr. Connection Man. Several days later, I sent him an email thanking him for his time, and briefly asked about his friend. To my surprise, an email from the friend appeared in my inbox asking how I was, and suggesting we should meet for a further discussion.
This turned out to be a coffee date, which ended up being dessert at a five-star-hotel. The second date was a movie and another hotel. The third was at his apartment, after he'd told me that he might have to move suddenly for work. After my first kiss on his couch, then a full-on makeout session and being felt up, this third "date" allowed me to realize that this was the guy I wanted to lose my virginity to. This wasn't because I "wanted to get it over with," but because when I heard that he might have to move, I realized I was intensely attracted to him.
It was probably the fifth date when we finally had sex. When he slowly pulled down my bra straps, I suddenly felt hyper-aware of the office building across from us, and murmured, "Not in front of the window…" In response, he picked me up, laid me gently on the bed, and pulled off my shorts. After a few more minutes, he hooked my panties and asked, "Can this come off?" Then I was naked for the first time in front of another human being since puberty, and he was kissing me fiercely.
I suddenly remembered — right, no babies. Holding his head in both of my hands, I stopped him and meekly said, "If anything happens, use a condom." I was met with a laugh and "I know, relax." Then he got up to get one. Not knowing what to do while he was out of the room, I lay there and took in the fact that this was really happening. When he returned with aloe vera gel as lube and a Durex condom, I took the advice Cosmopolitan, Seventeen, gossip columns, and friends had for first-timers: clutching onto his biceps, I said, "Go slow." And while it did lessen the pain, I still bled, and it still hurt.
I didn't care enough to wait for a "true love" to come by and swoop me off my feet with my first kiss and sex, but this guy came pretty close. In the end, he had issues and I had an intense schedule of work, school, and keeping this relationship as hidden from my parents as possible. I felt a huge gush of emotions the day after I lost my v-card about whether it was right to lose it to someone I didn't love, or that it was so soon. But looking back, I don't regret a single bit of it.