Is being a virgin at eighteen normal or not?
I ask myself this question more often than I'd like to admit. At first, it arose out of curiosity, then out of frustration, and eventually became a constant companion. But it never stops me from living my life. I don't feel defective or abnormal, nor do I envy other guys who brag about their "conquests."
I'm just different.
And yet, the question never leaves me — like a persistent fly I can't swat away, no matter how hard I try. At first, it seemed simple and insignificant, but with each passing year, it becomes heavier and more complicated.
Studying has always been my top priority. I'm fascinated by the idea of achieving success, earning respect. Girls, as I've long realized, don't like that. They prefer those who know how to make an impression. Rebels, defiant and loud, seem far more interesting to them than someone like me — quiet, buried in books and textbooks.
And you know what? I'm not bothered by it. Yes, I want a relationship, but I can't force myself to do something just to blend in. Sleeping with just anyone, just to get rid of the "virgin" label? That seems pointless to me. I seek happiness in books, in being the best at what I do. My world revolves around studying, challenges, and striving for success. Only sometimes, in moments of loneliness, when I sit down with my textbooks, I feel like something is missing — closeness with someone. I try not to dwell on it, convincing myself that I'm fine, that it isn't that important. But as soon as I'm alone, in the silence of my empty room, the question resurfaces. And I don't know how to fight it.
Probably, only a rare few have their first time with someone they truly love, with someone who loves them back. I'm not even expecting something like that, but I still believe there should at least be some minimal connection between people.
For others, it's easy — they live in the moment, laughing and dating, as if that's all that matters. But I feel like the world beyond studying and responsibilities isn't mine. Girls? They don't even notice me. The ones I try to talk to often avoid me, with a hint of disdain in their eyes. I'm not the kind of guy who can impress them.
When I started signing up for dating sites, it felt like a game. Maybe I am trying to prove to myself that I'm not a complete failure. A few dates, a couple of awkward conversations… But everything feels forced. I sit across from these girls, and no matter how hard I try to feel even the slightest attraction, nothing happens. It all feels shallow, mechanical. There's no excitement, no thrill I hope for. I guess I'm looking for something more than just physical attraction. But that always remains out of reach.
And now — ironically — there's a girl in my bed. Real, alive, not imaginary at all. Just not in the way I pictured it, and, to be honest, not someone I would want to see here. More than that, this is the second time in a day that she's appeared in my room, as if deliberately invading my personal space. Yet, despite this, her presence somehow changes the atmosphere.
Katrin lies beside me, as if she has always been there. I don't know what to do with this feeling. For a moment, I think I've become part of something unusual. But this isn't an "ideal moment" — it's a strange tangle of emotions I can't decipher. All I can do is lie still, as if I'm just a pillow she happened to rest her hand on. The room carries her scent — sweet and warm, reminiscent of vanilla ice cream. It's so familiar and pleasant that it leaves me a little dazed.
"Did you really get the highest score, or did you just fool everyone?" I dare to ask, looking at her.
This question has been tormenting me since the moment we met. I want to see her reaction, to understand how sincere she is. Katrin merely smirks. She lies on top of me as if it's her rightful place. Her long hair tickles my neck, and her leg, draped over my hips, feels almost weightless. She quietly lifts her head again, and I feel her gaze piercing through me. I tried to gently lay her beside me earlier, but she only presses closer, as if she knows I won't dare to object.
"I really am smart. And I passed those tests on my own. It was the easiest thing ever."
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. The year I spent preparing suddenly feels meaningless. I feel somewhat uneasy. I had countless hours for preparation and spent a lot of time reviewing materials, and now she says it was easier for her than for me. I think it's just a lie, but her gaze and confidence make me doubt it.
"Are you planning to compete in the Olympiad?"
"Of course. What about you?" she props herself up slightly. "I bet you're already deep in preparation, aren't you? You're such a nerd."
There's no malice in her words, only soft irony. Her eyes sparkle with genuine interest, as if she's trying to decipher me, like a rare, fascinating specimen.
It isn't just a statement; it's a test. She wants to see my reaction, to find out what I'll say in return. Her words fuel my desire to show I'm not like everyone else. I'm not perfect, but I can win. I want to win.
"I want to beat you."
She doesn't react immediately, but her smile slowly stretches, becoming playful. Her eyes, narrowing like a cat's, instantly convey her confidence to me. It seems she's ready for battle, and I'm just the next challenge on her list. Excitement surges in my chest, coursing through my veins. Every word she speaks is a step toward a great battle, and I'm ready to dive into it headfirst.
"I won't be your only competitor. But I like that you see only me as your rival," she says with such an easy smirk, as if she's already won. "So, how about a bet?"
"I don't bet. Not with anyone. Not on anything."
"Oh, please, at least hear me out."
Not knowing how to refuse, I sigh, bracing myself for the unknown.
"Fine," I can't resist my curiosity. "What have you come up with?"
Her eyes gleam. Everything becomes clear. We're standing on the edge of a game, and I feel it with my whole body.
"It's simple. Whoever scores higher gets to make a wish to the loser."
The girl knows exactly what she's doing, and I realize: this is her game, and I'm just a pawn on her board. But damn, what an enticing game it is. Losing is not an option.
"What wish?"
"Absolutely any wish. And I already know what I will ask for."
"And what will that be?" I ask with a smile on my lips, but with nervousness inside.
"Yeah, right, like I'll tell you everything! You'll find out if you lose," her voice is full of light teasing, but there's no hint of malice in it. And I can't help but smile back.
"We'll see who loses."
After that conversation, unexpectedly for myself, I drift off to sleep. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm lying alone. The dark room greets me with cold, and I immediately know she's gone. On the stool beside the bed sits a plate with an omelet and a salad, everything looks so neat, as if there was no rush, no chaos. Even more — there's a sense of care in it.
Next to it lies a note:
"Thanks for yesterday. Get ready to lose!"
I chuckle, and deep inside, a light unease spreads again. There's no signature, and that somewhat reassures me. Maybe that's exactly what is missing — the realization that someone other than me could have found out about her presence here. Rumors could spread quickly.
Going downstairs to the kitchen, I expect to see the usual mess: dirty dishes, stains on the table. But it's clean. Tidying up, she left behind a sense of order and comfort, which surprises me more than anything.
Her trace seems to have left something important in my life. A faint fragrance lingers in the air, as if she's still here. This feeling won't let me go, remaining a warm secret.
The next week is tough for me. Every day after classes, I spend my time in the library, absorbed in books and textbooks. I know the Olympiad is an opportunity I can't afford to miss. Every minute matters, as I have to show my knowledge and pass this challenge without letting myself down. I work tirelessly, studying everything I can on the subject, hoping for the best. This is my chance to demonstrate everything I've learned, and I'm not going to miss it. My feelings are mixed: on one hand, I'm full of determination; on the other, I feel constant tension, as if a weight of responsibility hangs on my shoulders — one I must not only keep from dropping but also carry correctly into the exam.
Katrin is absent from classes again. I'm already used to her absence, but this time, it irritates me even more. Her seat is empty, and when I ask Dima where she is, he shrugs and says she has no time for studying. She spends her nights partying in bars and clubs instead of thinking about serious things. I smirk, remembering how she recently warned me: "Get ready to lose." Looking at her behavior, I realize that phrase suits her better. She's the one preparing for defeat, not me. If she keeps drinking and not taking the Olympiad seriously, her chances of success will disappear. But I have no intention of reminding her about it. Let her lose — it will only be better for me. She's sure of her victory, but reality is catching up with her fast.
The wish.
That's another thing I'm racking my brain over. What wish should I make her fulfill? It seems like it's not such a difficult question, but in reality, it becomes far more significant than I thought. All this time, I've been trying to imagine what I could ask for, yet nothing worthwhile comes to mind. Of course, any guy, if asked, would immediately find something decent — or not so decent. But that doesn't suit me. I don't want to set small goals or do something easy to achieve. I want something more.
Making a wish that is truly important — that's what is worth trying. Something that will help me understand her better, but at the same time, won't make me want to go for compromises I'm not ready for. Or maybe I don't even know what this wish is yet. It's more than just a request. It's a little game, one I'm not entirely sure about myself yet, but intuitively I feel it will reveal something important to me.
Should I ask her to be my girlfriend for a month? That would be easy. But no, that isn't the step I would like to take. She's so unpredictable that one could fall in love with her overnight or not notice her at all. Honestly, I'm not sure if I could even handle her for a month. I never know what she truly wants, and it seems her life philosophy is far from what I would want.
But, on the other hand, I don't really know who she is either. Can I understand her if I spend just a week by her side? It's strange. But a week is already something. She still remains a mystery to me. In that short period, I can at least try to figure out her character, what is hidden behind her appearance and behavior.
I hesitate for a moment. Can she even act like a girlfriend, or will her boldness and independence always stand in the way? Maybe her challenge for me isn't just to be around, but also to learn to accept her as she is?
There will be no intimacy, of course. I can't even imagine what will happen if we move on to that. I need more time to understand who she is to me. And even kisses… I can think about it, but that's where the line must be drawn. I don't want to break boundaries prematurely. I want to feel her in a different light, to get to know her deeper.
The wish is already there, and that's the main thing. It is exactly what gets me on my feet and forces me to move forward, despite the fear and uncertainty.
Saturday arrives — the day of the Olympiad. The morning is tense; I am nervous but try not to show it. Thoughts swarm in my head, but I know — if I give in to anxiety now, I'll lose everything I've worked for. I know for sure that I'm well-prepared, and if I act precisely, everything will work out. But this feeling of anxiety won't leave me.
All I can do now is mentally surrender to my preparation and focus on what I've studied. I know that if I follow the plan, if I think logically, as the teacher taught me, everything will be fine. But life can be cruel sometimes, and I can't let my fate depend on a single failure.
"Is everyone here?" the examiner asks, looking at us, trying to figure out who is present.
"Katrin Kamenskaya is missing," one of the professors, standing by the board and checking documents, informs her.
The examiner waves her hand, not hiding her irritation. She clearly dislikes delays.
"We'll start without her. If it mattered to her, she'd be here."
Some students sitting nearby look concerned and hesitate for a few minutes, unsure whether to say something, but the examiner is firm. As for me, I understand that this wasn't important to Katrin. Her careless attitude toward everything is obvious. She always arrives at classes at the last moment, passes exams with minimal effort, and then heads off to another party. I'm curious to see how she'll act this time. Surely, she's already dancing somewhere, having forgotten that there are things more important than fun parties and endless nightclubs.
I can't understand how someone can treat so lightly something that is vitally important to me.
The Olympiad begins.
The questions are far from easy, but I feel confident. I've prepared well, and this confidence gives me strength. Time is slipping away rapidly, and I realize I need to focus so as not to miss a single important detail.
But then, when only thirty minutes are left until the end of the exam, the door opens, and she walks in — Katrin.
At that moment, I feel a smile appear on my face. It isn't just a feeling of joy, but the certainty that she won't have enough time to finish the work in the remaining time. I'm pleased by this, internally celebrating my victory. But what stuns me is her appearance. She looks different — confident, calm, as if she is in no hurry at all.
A smirk immediately appears on her face. It's both irritating and amusing. I can't hold back a wide grin, thinking to myself: "Sorry, but you've lost." However, no matter how I assess the situation, Katrin is confident of the opposite. And there's something mysterious and even intriguing about that.