I was raised Southern Baptist. Obviously, that didn't work out too well, or else I probably wouldn't participate in this community of PURE HEATHENRY.
It was entirely possible that my future husband wouldn’t remain pure for me, because he didn’t have that same responsibility, according to the Bible.
I was never clear about this, growing up (p.s. I'm a dude, guys). Abstinence only sex education is real, growing up in Texas, but female virginity was certainly elevated to a cut above males'. Anyway, by the time I was 19, I'd made my gradual "fall from grace", but still retained my V-card. Before I went into wrist repair surgery, fucked up on a morphine drip, I confided to my mother that I had yet to score a home run. Instead of approval for my lack of philandering, I was met with skepticism and disappointment. This moral dichotomy of Christianity's ideals vs. reality's societal pressures, as exemplified through my mother (multiple times, might I add), was a perfect example of several experiences that put the nail into the coffin of religiosity for me.
I was fortunate to have suffered no long-term ill effects, but to this day prefer monogamy with my mate, although she was not my first, and nor was I hers. I definitely don't hate on people who prefer other sexual practices, it's just not really for me. Perhaps it is an artifact of my upbringing, but it just keeps things so... simple.
And so, children. I say to go henceforth into the world and experiment, if you feel like it. If you'd prefer not to, then don't. Just make sure you're true to yourself.
P.S. if anyone requires a breakdown of this rather immature innuendo, such will be provided upon request.