THE LOSS OF VIRGINITY IS MORE-EMOTIONAL...LESS-PHYSICAL.
I feel compelled to share these few paragraphs. I suppose it was the very first time in my young, hopeful life I had no choice but accept the finality of defeat. My mother had won.
In two weeks, I would be married.
Jack and I were on the train, returning to Arkansas--from Atlantic City-- where I had been twice in two years. The first time, I was Miss Arkansas
and a contestant in the Miss America Pageant. The second time....I was The Miss America Pageant’s invited guest and featured entertainer.
Both times…I’d anticipated
something big and promising that would move me to New York City for an exciting music career ....but the past week had proved devastating. Jack surprised me by flying to Atlantic City, ruining all opportunities for auditions, singing offers,
and promises to study music in New York City.
The following paragraphs ....from my book....are blunt and straight-to-the point. This was possibly the most seriously-disturbing time
of my young life. My words express defeat, hopelessness, and the beginning of my "suspicious" heart. It took time to assume the role of “grown up"…. But I became a quick learner. From the early part of the Book:
"I lost my virginity in a roomette, on a fast-moving train from Atlantic City bound for Little Rock. Sounds like lyrics to a popular country song, right? But, these lyrics were true. And, like an escaped prisoner
being returned to Arkansas’s death row, I chose to submit rather than struggle. Two weeks before the wedding, I went “all the way” with a person who kissed badly, ignored foreplay, and satisfied no one but himself. Afterward, he apologized
for not having a bigger “weapon.”
For a man almost ten years older than me--- with years of sexual conquests--- someone who considered himself an expert on female anatomy--- Jack
knew absolutely nothing about what Southern Men refer to as “priming the pump”.
Years have passed since this disgusting memory. Through all those years, I learned a lot about life
and love and men. And, I learned one valuable truth:
When a woman’s breathless with excitement, overwhelmed with passion, and primed for the Grand Finale...she isn’t thinking
about the size of the equipment. A Real Woman is only interested in how well it performs."