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Summary
What is virginity?
The definition is the quality of being unopened. "Unopened"? Like, unopened trays of cookies or a brand-new piece of paper with no marks on it or a sealed bottle of mineral water that you're confident you won't accidentally break and take sips from until it evaporates into nothingness? Is that what virginity is? The absence of marks. Is that it? Or is it the "not been touched by others" sort?
Angela struggles to wrap her head around this. She struggles. The same way she has always struggled. To learn and know and understand. Angela knows: what makes you struggle to know isn't worth knowing. Only people who say they do understand can. There is scarce difficulty in learning about the virginity of minerals or vegetables; the real virginity is made of flesh and blood. Humans are what make life hard to deal with.
There shouldn't be a difference between who she is and what she has always been, regardless of if she stays unplucked for a million years or spends a single hour entangled in sweaty coital pleasure—in a situation she so desired to experience.
So, on the balcony where she gazes upon the Outskirts, illuminated under the stars, her demand from Roland is to take her virginity.