"From the outside, my life seems functional. I have a good job, good salary, stability. I live in a city in Albania that is not perfect, but it gives me my space. I have not been dependent on my parents for years.
But today I'm 27 and I'm still a virgin. And it's not some bright moral decision. It's not a religious vow, nor a strategy to "wait for the right one." It's a fact. It's something that hasn't happened and now it weighs on me. Why the hell isn't it happening?!
Not because I necessarily feel the lack of physical activity, but because it creates a sense of failure in me as a woman. As a being who is supposed to have experienced a range of experiences that give the body and mind the right to say "I lived, I'm happy." And I can't say this with any conviction.
I've avoided this topic for years, both with myself and with others. I've joked. I've invented a softer version of reality to pass the conversation in style. I've lied to the guys I've dated. I've said "I didn't have time," "I was focused on myself," "I don't like superficial relationships." They're all half-truths. But the whole truth is that it hasn't happened to me. And now, at this age, I'm not sure if it ever will.
My friends talk about their relationships like they're work experiences: 6 months, a year, three times with the same guy. Mistakes of a summer night. And me? I feel like I'm sitting in the stands with a ticket in my hand, without the courage to go down to the field. And I don't know why.
Sometimes I feel like the wrong person in the right body. I have the face of a girl that others call “cute,” “beautiful in her own way.” But men don’t see me, or maybe they can’t see me as a partner. Or maybe I don’t let them. Maybe there’s a protective energy in me that has become an obstacle. And instead of protecting me, it has isolated me and is killing me.
I'm afraid that it's not written for me, as if I'm a half-finished project, as if only I and the Ndroq road will never see a white day, hahaha. I'm afraid that with each passing year, this part of my life hardens. That there will come a moment when someone will ask me, with a feeling of pity, "How is that possible?"
I don't know what to say in those cases. And I don't know if I'm more ashamed of the fact itself, or of trying to cover it up. Yes, I feel like I'm failing. Even though everything looks fine on my CV. I'm starting to doubt whether it's possible for a woman to have everything else fine, but not this.
Okay, I know this doesn't define me. I know this isn't the core of my worth as a person. But in the silence, every night, when I close my laptop and turn off the light, I feel a void that is not filled by accomplishments, nor by praise. It's a dark room I don't want to enter, but every day it gets closer to me.
"I don't know if things will change. And if not, I wish myself peace and that it doesn't embarrass me anymore."
Note: The article has been adapted by the editorial team for editorial purposes and clarity. Copyright Anabel.al / Reprinting without the permission of the editorial team is prohibited.
