Dear Diary...

Hello DD, this is the first time I have every written to you, I am Suzanne.

I guess it must seem somewhat unusual for me to finally contact you, now that I am twenty-nine years old; (ha-ha) twenty-nine today... just don't ask me how many times this birthday has come and gone.

At least I am not claiming to be thirty-nine yet and thankfully, I will not have a need to resort to lying about my forties for a few more years yet.

I think I made the decision to communicate with you and express my thoughts about a week ago, I had considered doing this for many years. I cannot believe I did not start chronicling events in my life when I turned fourteen since the things that have shaped my life began then. That is when most girls start sharing secrets and writing about their fantasies, writing about simple things and abstract complexities, driven by hormonal changes occurring in their bodies.

Therefore Dear Diary, we have a lot to talk about don't we? Twenty-nine years is a long time, many years to cover and a lot of memories to immortalize once and for all. As much as I would love to shout my story to the world, most people would probably just call me a whore. Maybe I am... but I do not think so. Moreover, it is my opinion that matters, right DD? Fuck the rest of the world.

Much younger than I am now, I was still a virgin but I did not intend to stay one for much longer. I had been reading romance novels for a couple of years by then, and an occasionally a reference would be made to an older woman in the story who was usually someone's aunt or sister-in-law. Those women were already at that annually occurring thirty-ninth birthday every woman dreads. These poor women were always referred to as old maids behind their backs.

Seems like often, these women with wrinkles just starting to show were also schoolteachers but with my high school grades, I knew that my future career would never allow me to become an old maid schoolteacher, thank God for small favors.

I do not really believe that one's profession influences your sex life. That is, unless you are a stripper or hooker, or maybe someone who works in a steel mill. Yes, I doubt female steel workers have sex very often, unless it happens to be with another female steel worker. I can also see how wearing one of those oversized asbestos protective suits might hinder their sexuality.

For me, I was convinced that true romance lay between my legs and that if I was ever going to find my true love, the doorbell was nested in that moist place that my mother told me to guard and keep safe. Why do mothers do that to their daughters? Do they feel sinful about their own sexuality?

Well, DD, I will not keep you waiting for long. Yes, of course I finally surrendered my virginity, as all women should do. Funny thing is, there is still a part of a virgin left in me.

You ask, "How can I be part virgin?"

That is really an easy thing to claim if you look at it in just the right way. In fact, there are dozens of right ways to look at it. To prove it, here is an example. I have never joined the Mile High Club. That's right... my cherry is intact above the five thousand or so footmark. Maybe I should travel to Denver sometime and rectify that.

Maybe someday, I should write down all the ways in which I am still a virgin. I could use the other side of the paper to write up another list. It would not surprise me if the list of places and ways I had lost my virginity ended up twice as long as the cherry side.

Let's see... be still my heart (ha-ha), there were backseats of cars, parking lots, storerooms, my place, his place... even my parent's bed a few times when I knew they wouldn't be home for a few hours.

The part of me that is still a virgin is something I refer to as my Secret Virginity. It is the one measure of my innocence that I have to lie about.

You ask, "Why do I have to lie about it?" Well, that is a complicated story and I am going to tell it to you. But you are going to have to wait until tomorrow. I have to review my notes for trial before I call it a night.