I'm a Hymenal Girl

      

When you become a certain age it becomes possible to talk about anything. Nothing seems to cause much shame any longer. You have lived through much and you have been told much. Some truths and some untruths. Only from experience, tears and total embarrassment are you able to finally judge for yourself what appears to be true and what appears to be false. When you can stand up and boldly admit to not always knowing it all and having all the answers is when adulthood is somewhat attained. After this story is told you will realize that I definitely have no shame and will admit to anything.

I am going to take you back, way back, to a time when I was the most naive person imaginable. A time when mom could tell me anything and I believed it. A time when you did what your mother told you to do without question. You are all allowed to laugh at my naivety because this rendition is meant to be humorous. I can finally, after many years write about this experience with humor and without the embarrassment it has caused me in the past. I can look at it with much laughter because it was funny. Maybe not at the time but today it is.

I'm not sure if any of you are aware of this but you can bleed to death from having sex? I'm sure you've heard of many many cases of it? Yes sirree! That's what dear Mom told me and who was I to doubt her? After all, she had taken me to a doctor when I was 9 years old and he informed her that I had a thick hymen. Yeah that fold of mucous membrane that bursts the first time you are inducted into adulthood by the consummation of full blown sexual activity. (We have a theater here in town called "The Heymann Theater of Performing Arts" and I swear every time I hear it advertised I think of my thick hymen)

I digress. Apparently dear old Dr. James, after examining me, because I had a bladder infection, told my mother that I could possibly bleed a bit more than expected when I had my first sexual experience. Of course, I remember the pain of the examination, so when she later told me this, I didn't have a difficult time believing it was possible. It was the best available birth control and assurance of virginity that my mother could ever wish for. Her daughter, at all cost would walk down the aisle in white, come hell or high water!

When, I met my future husband to be, I had the dubious pleasure of having to let him know about the notorious thickness of my hymen. It was not going to be performing for him unless it was married to him and a doctor was readily available for my impending hemorrhage. I was 15 years old when he decided he would take the chance of marrying a girl who would perhaps bleed to death on their wedding bed. If that isn't love I don't know what is?

Mother and I planned the wedding for 8 months. Shopping for and buying the glorious white wedding gown. Oh Momma was so proud. Her daughter was getting married in white. A virgin. I would not shame her with an unwanted pregnancy!

Of course, he and I partook in many make out sessions and things got really hot and heavy but I always had that lightbulb in my head going off telling me "whoop" "whoop" "whoop" "thick hymen alert!". I could not imagine having to call my mother from the hospital to inform her that I had defied her and was dying from hymenal causes. My future husband was even more paranoid than I and Mr. Happy stayed where it belonged most of the time. *Snorts* I did see Mr. Happy on a few occasions and it further convinced me that I could die from this thing that could possibly be just as thick as my hymen. A double whammy!

As the wedding drew near, my mother was in a panic that her daughter may not survive the wedding night, and mother dearest wanted to be close at hand should the unspeakable happen. She went to every length to insure I would have swift medical attention in the event of my death by impalement. Located about a mile from where we lived and where my mother would be staked out with medical provisions, was Deweyville Texas, and the rinkiest dinkiest sleazy motel you can envision. Redneck capital of the world!

We arrive one week in advance, my mother, myself and my future husband, to make reservations at this esteemed establishment. I would not lie to you! Reservations for a place that rarely saw anything but prostitutes and roaches. $6.00 a night paid in advance. I look back on it and cringe with embarrassment!

May 31, 1975, after our wedding and reception, in the broad day light, we arrive at our honeymoon suite . This place does not even have a lobby. It has a window from the outside to a room where you buzz a bell that summons someone in the inside to get the key to the room.

My husband gets the key and we haul our luggage in. I walk into the room and my jaw drops to the cement floor. Yes, the floor did not even have tile on it. It was bare cement. I, being the sport I have always been, knows what I have to do. I open my suitcase and remove my white negligee with the little red heart on the top right hand corner and proceed to the bathroom which was like walking to my death chamber.. I don't know which was worse...the bathroom or the idea that I was getting ready for my deathbed.

I walk out of the bathroom and my husband is waiting on the bed for me. I get into bed with him and he tries kissing me but then I hear the whirring of a lawn mower outside. I look to my left and I see the curtains have a huge part the size of which Moses would have been proud of and the curtains are catshit yellow like everything was back in the mid-70's.

From the parting of the Red Sea, I could see the maintenance guy passing back and forth in front of the window with his mower making wonderful romantic music and, I, for the life of me, cannot muster any desire for this man that is my husband lying upon me. Everything was very surreal. I look him in the eye and these were my exact words

"Stick it in...see if I'm gonna bleed and let's get the hell out of here!"

There was a huge sigh of relief when penetration didn't cause my fatal demise. I called my mother to inform her that her daughter didn't even shed a drop of blood. Not one crimson drop! Sonavabitch! If that wasn't a form of sexual abuse, I don't know what is.

So there you have it, the story of how one 16 year old remained a virgin until marriage.

 

 

 

 

Many things are possible for the person who has hope. Even more is possible for the person who has faith. And still more is possible for the person who knows how to love. But everything is possible for the person who practices all three virtues.

- Brother Lawrence (1605-1691)