I was scheduled to tell for the Arizona Storytellers Project in August. The theme for the evening was, Stories from the Edge – moments when everything changed. I planned to tell my Dorothy story; the story when I realized – in life there is no yellow brick road. When I told the event organizer my plan she said, “Cute, but no.” Crap.

So I emailed her back and said I would tell the story about finding out I was going to have a baby. She said, “Someone is already telling a story about having a baby. So no.” Crap.

She suggested maybe I just wait and tell a different time – maybe in January, or December. But it was the day before the event – I had already told my friends. I had already planned on telling. I had already picked an outfit. I wasn’t backing out.

In a desperate attempt to not be pulled from the lineup I wrote:

“How about a story about losing my virginity… “

To which she responded:

“I’ll take it.”

I got the email on my phone, sitting in my car. I started sweating. I immediately regretted the decision. But there was no turning back.

That Thursday night I stood on the stage and told, to an audience of unsuspecting strangers, a story that previously I had only told a handful of girlfriends. It was terrifying (the glass of prosecco I downed right before was perhaps the only reason I didn’t run). But it was fitting – because telling the story was a moment on the edge for me.

I have never been afraid to be vulnerable or tell stories that make me look like a fool. But there are definitely stories that I don’t tell – because they’re too embarrassing, or they’re a little dark, or I’m just not sure if the words are appropriate to say. Telling that story on that stage that night was a risk for me – edgy. And now, looking back, perhaps a risk I’m willing to take more often…

However, that is for another time. Right now, without further adieu, I give you the story entitled: The Time I Thought I Lost My Virginity.

(Adult Content)

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