My name is Jenn. I’m 17; I live in Kansas, and I have chosen to wait for love. There are many reasons why I’ve decided to wait to have sex, but some particularly stick out like sore thumbs. 

It’s as though a little person inside my head is screaming, “Wait! It isn’t right!”  I hear it listing things that will be good about sex, but also listing things that will be bad. The list of consequences seems far longer than that list of good things.

Sexual intercourse would certainly feel good. It seems as simple as “Insert Tab A into Slot A.” But I found out from others who made the decision to do the deed that sex wasn’t that easy. The general consensus was that the first time wasn’t that great.

STDs & Statistics

When I think about sex, the first bad thought that comes to mind is what my mother would think. There have been many pregnancies at my high school, and many of the girls don’t come back after their babies are born. Many of them become just another statistic about single teen mothers dropping out of school.  

I’ve always wanted to do something great in life. I’ve always wanted to go to college, have a great job, and be able to support my family if the man in my life walks out on me.

Another consequence that immediately comes to mind is a sexually transmitted disease (STD). My mother once told me that she’d rather me come home and tell her that I’m pregnant, than come home and tell her I have HIV/AIDS.  

But the best influence on me about STDs was my cousin. She’s five years older than me and—to put it bluntly—she slept around in her younger days. She lost her virginity at 14.

Somewhere along the line, she contracted human papilloma virus (HPV), an STD that produces warts. She didn’t do anything about it; she thought it’d go away. It did, but then it came back worse than ever. She eventually had to have the warts frozen off, because she neglected to take care of them.

Escapades

But I’m one to talk. I didn’t necessarily wait to get started with sexual activity. I started messing around when I was 13, when I received my first French kiss. Being the naive little girl that I was, I thought he loved me. He didn’t.  After I asked him if he did, he punched me in the stomach. That was in October.  

By December, I was lonely and started messing around with this guy at a friend’s party. I fell asleep, woke up, and didn’t know what happened.  I later found out we didn’t have intercourse but, still, it wasn’t something I wanted to worry about. 

Then I started dating a guy a year younger than me. Again, I messed around.  Eventually, I almost had sex with him, but somehow, my mind made a deal with my body and I didn’t.  

About this time, I started huffing (sniffing) household things. I would get pretty messed up, but I only did it a couple times. I didn’t like the feeling of not being able to control my own actions. So, messing around sexually replaced the huffing. 

Messing around was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of, and I could only go so long without doing it before I was out looking again.  

Then came my most shameful escapade of all, with my friend’s brother. When I was at her house, she’d go to bed, and then he and I would mess around in their living room or in his bedroom. We got together three times—once at her birthday party!  

I thought he loved me, and I really loved him. I would’ve done anything for him. But when my friend actually found out, she confronted her brother. He pretended to know nothing about it. Then he told me that we couldn’t be together in public, because his friends wouldn’t like it.

My Wants

After that, I got better. I was so good for a year. I switched from messing around to cybersex, phone sex, and the fine art of masturbation. The phone sex was a little iffy, because I was always afraid I was going to get caught. But I figured the rest had it all—no STDs, no pregnancy, no commitment.  

But I didn’t fool myself—commitment and love were the only things I wanted. 

So now, by choice, I’ve actually been good for two years. I haven’t messed around with anyone in any way, shape, or form.

I’ve finally decided that intercourse is worth the wait. I figure there’s plenty of time to have sex in the future. And I just don’t want to be with someone who’s going to go brag about it the next day, like a lot of guys do.

I want someone who’s going to take the time, and be understanding and caring. I want him to love me, and only me, and be in it for the long run.

I understand that may be a lot to ask, but that’s what I want. And I’m prepared to wait for it.

Jenn Douglas, 17, is a Sex, Etc. contributor from Mulvane, KS.