I was going to lose my virginity, and I needed an outfit to do it in. Not the little black dress in which you break a heart slowly over the course of dinner, because you are all the way across the table and not there in your sweetheart's lap being vigorously admired in a hands-on fashion, though I needed one of those. I was going to lose my virginity on Valentine's Day, after all, and we were going out somewhere fancy and for both reasons, I had to look spectacular, celebratory, fantastic, delicious enough to deflower.  

But I was worried about the rest of it. What was supposed to happen after dinner? We'd get undressed, and then I'd be naked, and that would be it? We did that all the time. This was a special occasion. There had to be some sort of intermediate stage to commemorate the big event and, if I were being totally honest with myself, slow it down a little bit. I had vague ideas that lingerie would perform this service: if I was wearing lingerie, which I never had, ever, in the whole course of my life, then he'd have to stop a moment and admire it, right? And then--I was fuzzy on what would happen afterwards. How did we go about getting on with it? We had done everything except actually putting it in, but for some reason, factoring in the actual process of penetrative sex made me panic, made me dither, made me lose my mind and start obsessing about what I would wear.

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