The Confession of a Devirginizer

Monica Joy Cantilero

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I selfishly asked for her precious virginity.

Exactly three days after she turned 18, I hurriedly asked her to meet me in our house. I saw before me a girl who has now turned a woman. She looked so beautiful and fresh; I can’t resist kissing her. So I touched her face and began to kiss her softly on the lips. She tasted so sweet, like no other girl I have kissed before. Then the innocent kiss grew stronger and deeper. I caressed her neck and swooped to her fair chest. The next thing I knew, we were already naked, locked in a lovers’ play.

She trembled as I laid her down to my bed. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud, like ancient ritualistic drums beating to the sacrifice of a virgin for a war. Her hazy eyes looked straight into mine, succumbing into my hypnotic trance. I reached for her wrists and pinned her down, and moments later, a soft stifled cry pierced through the air. The battle had been won. Slowly, we became one.

And what did I do, father?

I deserted her afterwards.

She was scared. She kept on bugging me that I should take responsibility if a child develops in her belly, so I freaked out. I felt
scared too, but I angrily refused to share her burden, her guilt. Instead, I recommended abortion. Letting our child live is just the same as killing him; we won’t have anything to feed him anyway. I have yet many dreams to reach, and I don’t think I can have a bright future with two extra luggages pulling me away. I was just so selfish, father.

There was no communication between us for the next few days. I became restless, guilty of what I have done to her. I left her
alone in the time she most needed me. That can never be called love, right, father? As much as I wanted to believe that it was all about love, I did what I did to her because I was weak to the temptations of lust. I could hardly sleep at night. I could still smell her scent on my pillows, on the covers of my bed. I remembered how she still sweetly smiled even after I took her virginity away. I recalled how she tried to suppress her pain when I went inside her. I assured her that I will always be with her, but where is that now?

Then she confessed to me that she took pills against her will. She felt like a soulless whore, she said, as she swallowed those pills and her dignity. She did it because she knew I would not care for her or the child that could have grown in her. I couldn’t utter a word at that moment, father. I held back my tears. As a man, I can’t show her how everything is breaking inside of me as she spoke. I love her, but I was a coward. I have no right to tell her how much I still care now.

No man will marry her now, she said. I wanted to tell her that a man should never love her for her body, but I knew that a man like that would be really hard to find. I wanted to say sorry, but it’s too late, father.

Then she asked, “Is a woman really only worth her hymen?”

My conscience is killing me, father. Have mercy in me. What should I do? ▪