'I grew up as a pentecostal Christian. It completely messed up how I see sex.'

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons.

It's 2002 and I'm 20 years old, sitting in the church foyer next to my fiancé in some carefully placed seats laid out for our emergency meeting with our pastor.

My hands are clammy, I feel deep shame and embarrassment. I don't want to be there, but we have to be there to sort this out. I don't know this pastor very well as I only made this church my home recently after I got engaged. It's what good Christian girls do, refer to the man's church.

My fiancé and I had sex before we were due to get married. This pastor had found out via the head praise and worship leader (who coincidentally lived with the pastors at the time) after my distraught and guilt filled fiancé had blurted it out to her. She had told the pastor under the guise of being worried about us and needing prayer. Pfffftttt.

Watch: The Mamamia team confessed the weirdest place they've had sex. Post continues after video.

It should be noted that the first time we had the sex, that took our virginities, was awful. Not the kind of awful that you hear about from other losing of virginity stories with clumsiness and fumbling, although there was that too, it was awful because we were filled with a deep shame before, during and after it that smothered any other feelings of the love we shared and wanted to express.

The guilt and shame was so strong that my fiancé 'confessed' to his music leader.

And so here we are in this room. A 20 and a 21-year-old - just babies. Jittery, nervous, but most of all overflowing with shame and a desire to fix this madness we had created with our penis and vajayjay. 

We had committed a sin the pastor said, and WE KNOW. We can barely handle these crushing feelings of guilt we feel. He said we needed to take a step back, postpone the wedding for a later date so we could sort this out.

Sort. This. Out.

This is a good time to tell you that we were weeks away from getting married and he was our minister. 

The problem was, the pastor explained to us, he's a very sought after minister, he doesn't marry just any couple. Clearly we weren't ready for marriage after this sin we committed, and he was not comfortable with marrying us under these conditions.

I was as good as mute for this entire meeting. I remember my husband speaking up at this point and saying we definitely wanted to still get married in a few weeks' time.

He said he would pray about his decision to marry us but in the meantime we all had some jobs to do. He needed to pray about his involvement because his Godly spidey senses were tingling. Then if he was to marry us, we would need to do some things. First confess to our parents. Yes, that's right, confess to our parents this awful news that we as engaged people had had one time sex.

Next my fiancé was to meet with my father and tell him what we had done. Vom.

If you are reading this and come from a similar religious upbringing you will be understanding how normal and accepted this all is. Of course you confess to your parents - that's very logical. If you are reading from a non religious experience, you might be screaming at your computer right now and to you I say - welcome to purity culture!

20 years on and my husband and I are still together. We have changed and evolved as individuals and as a team. We have gone through many ups and downs of growing and doing life as a married couple. I no longer go to church or believe in much of what I was taught.

But purity culture and what I have learned has unfortunately stuck with me. I still can't talk to my husband about anything sex related. He will ask me what I like. He will ask me if it was good. He will beg me to open up and talk about sex. And I just... can't.

I have told him the depths of my feelings and experiences in all other aspects of my life, I've been as vulnerable with him as much as a person can be. I trust him. I feel safe with him and I value his opinion. And yet with sex... I can't break this barrier. I can't even bring myself to look into his eyes when he asks me to show him what I want, let alone answer him.

And that is the depths of my personal journey with purity culture. A culture that is so seeped into my being that it has stunted what should have been my natural sexual evolution as a woman.

The belief goes deep.

Deep, deep, deep into the very core of my being this fear and conviction around sex has linked arms with a shame so strong I can't seem to break free.

Partly because purity culture was never about sex, it was about control. Some of my friends had purity rings worn on their wedding ring finger to signify that they would not have sex until they were married. I didn't need a purity ring to remind me to stay pure -  I had the fear rooted inside me already. Fear of sinning. Fear of hell. Fear of being separated from my parents' love.

Growing up, talking about sex outside marriage is black and white - don't do it. It's a sin. Moreover, as a young girl you are taught to be especially aware of how you dress and present yourself around males. They are the stronger sex in every way - the head of the household - but in the sex department they have no control of themselves. If you are to have a sexual experience with a boy, you as the female are held more accountable than the male because they literally can't control themselves.

At best purity culture is controlling, at worst it's a gateway to rape culture with its teachings on a man's desire and for a women to never keep sex from him.

After our confessions to our parents and that terrible and awkward conversation my poor husband had to have with my dad (to which there was no intervention from our parents for this approach to us having sex, as we were products from our upbringing) the pastor decided at the 11th hour he could marry us. What a dick. I still see his stupid face in our wedding photos and it makes me sad for my young self, and frustrated at my upbringing that allowed me to let him, and the church, into my private sex life. 

Listen to No Filter where Tom Tilley shares his life growing up as a pentecostal Christian. Post continues below.

We now have 10-year-old and an eight-year-old. I don't want them to feel shame about sex. I know they won't because I'm already teaching them differently to my strict and controlling upbringing. But I also know that the way for me to really teach them that sex holds no shame, I need to believe it first. I need to actually believe it, not just speak the words that I think a sex positive and free person would say. This is so important to me that it's going to be the thing that helps me work through my own shame around sex.

To start with, this means a very uncomfortable conversation with the person that I'm most comfortable with. 

Let's break down some barriers and hopefully celebrate by telling him what I like. This is going to be really hard (no pun intended). 

Feature Image: Getty.