I had just turned 18 and was a young mover in our congregation, vac pioneering on summer vacation, instruction talks in the KM school and at local circuit assembly, plans to serve where the need was greater in a different state. I was also engaged to be married in the following spring to a girl in that distant state.
Then, one of our buddies showed up and he had a strange girl in the front seat. He hopped out and bragged how this girl was ready for some action if we knew what he meant. We all knew and I started to back away. But two of the guys tugged at my coat and told me to come along. I didn't want to appear like a prude so I told myself I'd just go along for the ride, just be an innocent spectator.
Long story short, I ended up in the back seat with Elizabeth.
I now was no longer a virgin thanks to Elizabeth.
When we returned to the drive-in, they told me that Elizabeth wanted to go home with me. I was scared, felt dirty, suspected that I had some type of STD, and wanted to crawl into a hole someplace.
Somehow I escaped, free from Elizabeth and the guys, never to see any of them again.
But what could I do about that talk that was only days away? Could I fess up to the Congregation Servant and renege on my obligation? What would everyone think? What would my parents think? What would my fiancee think as word would certainly and somehow make it to her?
It was all too much for this 18 year old to bear. I chickened out about confessing. I figured if Jehovah's holy spirit would allow me to go through with this discourse then that would be my answer. His forgiveness and approval.
The talk went fine, with all types of accolades that such a young man displayed such talent from the platform. My trip to the midwest went fine, my fiancee and I got married the following spring, we had children, I got appointments as MS and elder ensued and 20 years later I became POMO.
That loss of virginity episode was one of the things that convinced me that Holy Spirit has nothing to do with anything, that God doesn't even exist. Thank you, Elizabeth.