By Fattyma Ibrahim

I think I’m going to love sex, I know my own body, what it does to me just from ovulating alone tells me enough.

In this week’s Sex and Relationship column, Francesca shares why she’s still waiting until marriage, what it feels like to be laughed at for it, and why she isn’t afraid of running out of time.

Some women wait because they haven’t met the right person. Some wait because they’re scared. Some wait because life simply hasn’t lined up that way yet. And then there are women like Francesca*, for whom waiting was never an accident, it was, and still is, a decision she makes on purpose, over and over again.

At 31, Francesca has never had sex. Not because no one has wanted her, not because she hasn’t wanted it either but because she has chosen, deliberately and repeatedly, to save it for marriage. It has cost her relationships. It has earned her mockery, pity and some genuinely bizarre theories about her love life. And still, she hasn’t moved the line.

This week’s Sex and Relationship column is her story, in her own words.

Francesca’s story

I started noticing I was on a different path around 2021, after I finished school and got into the workplace. All through school I dated, but it was never really discussed as an issue, the guys I was with never pushed it, so it never came up as a “thing” I had to defend.

But it has always been a conscious decision, and it still is. I know who I’m giving it to, and it isn’t whoever is asking. People act like the craving has to win eventually, but I’ve always known I could wait, the same way you can crave a particular soup, let’s say okra soup, and still choose to have it only when the time is right.

Religion is the biggest reason. My faith taught me that sex before marriage is a sin, and that it’s worth waiting for and giving to your husband. Your first time is something you get attached to, so imagine having several “firsts” scattered across several people, there’s a public prostitute and there’s a private one. At least the prostitute gets paid. I think of giving myself to someone who’s ready to build a life with me as adding value to myself, not losing it.

I Thought I Was Being Selfish

I’ve been in relationships where I seriously considered it. There was a point I even thought I was being selfish, so I asked someone directly whether a man could date a woman without sex being part of it. He said no. Then I asked if he’d advise his own sister to have sex before marriage, and he screamed no. It’s almost like a secret cult, some people in it aren’t even happy to be there, but they can’t control the urge, so they stay.

I’ve wanted to have sex more times than I can count, probably a million times lol, honestly. But I always come back to the same thought: it’s not worth it. I believe anything God instructs us to do is for our own benefit, because He knows things we don’t.

Dating as a virgin at 31 means being upfront early. I tell people from the beginning, no sex before marriage and most of them disappear after that. The ones who stay are either shocked or don’t fully believe me at first.

Being mocked, pressured, and diagnosed with a “spiritual husband”

is a man’s penis supposed to cure a spiritual husband? Or is whoever’s saying that just being ridiculous?

I’ve been judged, mocked and pressured, all three. One conversation that stayed with me was with a doctor I met, who told me that before I became a “spiritual being” I was once a physical one, and that I should loosen up and enjoy sex.

Other people have gone further and told me I must have a spiritual husband, some kind of spiritual attachment stopping me from having a real one and that I should go and “ask questions” about it. I actually did ask, and my aunt put it simply: is a man’s penis supposed to cure a spiritual husband? Or is whoever’s saying that just being ridiculous?

I don’t feel behind other women because of my age. But I won’t lie, conversations with my friends about sex can sting a little. There’s a kind of shame that creeps in around how naive I sound. There was a time at a friend’s bridal shower, someone asked if I’d ever been with someone and called out the wrong name in the moment. I said yes, because I genuinely thought they meant calling someone the wrong name in an ordinary conversation. I didn’t understand they meant during sex. Everyone laughed at me. I still think about that. I’ve had many moments like that with friends who don’t know I’m still a virgin. Sometimes, I simply pretend to understand the conversation.

The Best Sex Is With Your Husband

Growing up, my mother always said the best sex is the sex you have with your husband, that some men only want to get in between your legs, nothing more. That stuck with me.

I won’t pretend it’s been easy. I’ve cried a lot, I cried just last week. In fact, these days, the desire can be very high. I feel lonely sometimes, and there are people who count my age like a countdown clock, telling me I won’t find a man willing to wait on my terms. My answer to that is simple: if I exist, then a man who thinks the way I do exists too.

People assume that a 31-year-old virgin just hasn’t met someone she loved enough. That’s not it. Sometimes I’ve loved, cried, and still couldn’t bring myself to cross that line, because it’s not about whether I can, it’s about knowing it isn’t right for me. It’s a bit like knowing how to do something wrong and choosing not to, simply because you know better.

If I’m honest, what I feel is a mix, pride, frustration, and something in between. Sometimes I ask myself if a particular man was even worth the wait. But then I remember it was never really about him. It’s about what I want for myself.

What worries me more is whether I’ll find someone who sees life the way I do. I have worried that a man might reject me because I have no sexual experience. But I remind myself that an expert was once a novice.

I’m Not Scared. I’m Eager.

“I actually think I’ll love sex. I want my first time to feel special, a romantic setup — blue or red lights, a colourful room, a particular song, sexy lingerie. I’ve the whole picture in my head.”

I’m not scared of my first time. If anything, I’m eager. I’m not chasing some big emotional payoff from it either, I mostly just want to understand what everyone else has built such a big deal around.

If I met someone I trusted tomorrow, the answer would still be no, unless we were married. That hasn’t changed, and I don’t think waiting this long has given me unrealistic ideas about what it’ll be like. What has changed is how I see people’s intentions; I’ve noticed that a lot of people chasing you just want to sleep with you, not necessarily love you.

When I imagine my first time now, I picture myself shy, but present, enjoying it, feeling like it was worth everything, feeling truly connected to the person. Feeling safe, to me, will mean knowing I did what was right by my own standards.

I do want it to be within marriage, and I do want it to feel special, the romantic setup, blue or red lights, a colourful room, bathing together beforehand, a particular song playing, sexy lingerie. I actually gift my married friends lingerie all the time, so I clearly have a whole picture in my head. But if it doesn’t turn out perfect or cinematic, I don’t think I’ll be disappointed. I’ll go back to my faith, if it was right in God’s eyes, it’s enough for me. I know people will have opinions about that. I don’t mind.

What I’ve learned about myself, even without ever having had sex, is that I think I’m going to love it. I know my own body, what it does to me just from ovulating alone tells me enough. I’m not naive about my own desire. I’ve simply decided when I’ll act on it.

In conversation with Francesca*

 "You did good by waiting for the right person."

When I asked Francesca the most awkward question she’s ever been asked about being a virgin at 31, she didn’t hesitate: “Are you a human being?” She laughed telling me that one.

Has she ever lied about her experience to avoid the questions? Never, she said, she’d rather stay silent than lie. Has she ever pretended to follow along in a sexual conversation she had no real experience of? “Multiple times,” she admitted, “especially with friends who don’t know I’m still a virgin.”

If she could speak to herself at 20, what would she say? “You did good by waiting for the right person.”

I asked her the question I suspected mattered most: does she want her first time now, or does she simply want to stop feeling like she’s supposed to want it? She answered without pause. “I’m ready now, anytime. It’s just doing it the right way that’s stopping me.” And when I asked whether she’s been waiting for the right person, or the right version of herself, she said, “I’ve been waiting for someone who sees life the way I do.”

Francesca* is a pseudonym used to protect the interviewee’s privacy.

Got a story to tell? We want to hear it. Whether it’s about love, heartbreak, desire, dating, intimacy or something you’ve never felt comfortable saying out loud, share your story with us. Our Sex & Relationships column is a no-judgment zone, and your experience could help someone else feel less alone.