The Misery of Virginity

Sex is a really funny thing. I remember being generally puzzled about sex when I was growing up. On one hand, it’s something that’s hugely publicized across our culture: it bombards us from sit-coms, commercials, videos, movies ads, books, music…virtually everywhere. On the other hand, it’s something that kids weren’t supposed to talk about. Grown-ups got SO uncomfortable around kids talking about sex that they usually told them to be quiet.

Once I reached puberty, I held out a pretty respectable amount of time before I gave away my virginity. I waited until I was 19. The circumstances leading up to this monumental event were kind of interesting.

My graduating class in High School was 26. Not only that, but I had been at the same school since 2nd grade. What this meant was that by the time graduation rolled around, dating anyone was pretty much akin to incest. How the hell could you be attracted to someone you’d known since they were 7? To make things worse, I pretty much hated everyone in my class. I had three friends, two or three acquaintances and as far as I was concerned, I could care less if everyone else was wiped out in a tragic boating helicopter accident.

Despite all that, I did have a girlfriend my senior year, one who made the offer to put out. I politely declined. For those of you knew to my on-going saga, she was the one who proved to be pretty nuts: she sent me threatening letters when we broke up.

Once I reached college, I sort of launched myself at the freshmen girls. It was a natural reaction. I had spent my entire dating life choosing from a very limited pool. Suddenly there were all kinds of choices, varieties, and possibilities. So I was a man-whore for about a semester and a half. But, I was a whore who wouldn’t put out. Years earlier, I had settled on some important requirements for the event:

1. No losing it to other virgins. The way I looked at it, the last thing I needed was to try to figure it out with someone who also had no idea what the fuck they were doing. This turned out to be a wise move on my part. Years later, I bedded a virgin. The event was so traumatic that if it had been MY first time too, I probably never would have tried to have sex again.
2. The girl I lost it to would have to be in a long term relationship with me. I didn’t want, years later to say, “Yeah, it was a magical night with…uh…umm…what’s her name?”

This second rule had another benefit that I hadn’t even considered. See, almost every outlet of our culture portrays sex as a talent: either people are good or they’re bad and that’s it. In reality, sex is really more of a skill particularly for men. Girls can say what they like about the work they do in bed, but the reality is that men are the ones up there shooting the free-throws. In a long term relationship, I was able to progress from a total bust to a barely competent lover. Hey! The important thing was that progress was made! I think I’m pretty good now. And if you don’t believe me, feel free to take it up with my sex-references.

Virginity is a strange thing. I remember that as a virgin, I spent so much time building up what sex was supposed to be, that when I actually did it, it was something that wasn’t nearly as big a deal as I thought it would be. That was the REAL lesson of that night. After that, I was able to relax about sex enough that I could relate to girls better because it wasn’t always forefront in my mind. That is to say, when I was speaking to girls I thought about it only 85% of the time instead of 99% of the time.

Usually, I’d say everyone should take things at his or her own pace. However, if a person holds out too long, it’ll become nearly impossible to do. The longer you wait, the bigger you make it in your own mind until it’s something that totally devours you. That being the case, I’d like to draw attention to a truly noble cause. My faithful readers, I urge you to dig deep in your pockets and help give a young man the greatest gift of all: hot stripper ass. Praise you, brothers and sisters!