The V-Card in New Beginnings

I wrote about this topic a few years ago on my Open Diary, but it’s been on my mind recently. I was wary about writing about it once again if only because last time I got a few inflammatory comments. They were idiotic, too, and I found not responding to them exceedingly difficult. However, I figure if I won’t even express my thoughts on the subject here, there’s not much point in having journal at all, is there.

I’m a 34 year old virgin, or (as I like to put it) I still have my V-card. I like that latter expression better. It makes me sound less like what you pictured when you read “I’m a 34 year old virgin.” I imagine you imagining a socially inept, overweight, neck bearded, pock marked troll. Either that or a pleated-pants-and-turtle-neck-sweater-wearing nebbish. Think Steve Carrell in The 40 Year Old Virgin but not as cool because I can’t play poker. I suppose I am somewhat dorky, but I don’t think of myself like that. I’d consider myself to be more along the lines of an athletic type. Also, I prefer the term “self contained” to “anti-social.”

Whatever one may imagine me as, I can’t escape the notion that my virginity is pretty compelling evidence for romantic failure. Even worse, it suggests I’m a failure as a person.

Maybe, I should back up. I grew up in a Christian home. I still consider myself to be a Christian though I don’t really go to church or regularly read scripture or pray. I donate well over 10% of my income to faith based humanitarian aid, and I listen to sermons from my old church online every Sunday. Granted, I’m usually playing Rocket League or One Finger Death Punch while I do so, but at least I’ve not gone completely heathen. I expect this point to be the focus of whatever inflammatory remarks I receive. “You were brainwashed into being sexually repressed by an organization that just wants to exert control over others to protect its power and bank accounts,” or something else to that affect. I’m getting off topic. Throughout my upbringing, I imbibed the value of waiting until I was married to have sex. I suppose my growing up in a time when television was more “family friendly” helped.

If you’re a Bill Clinton millennial, you might not remember TGIF. I’m a Reagan millennial (1982 FTW), so I had the pleasure of actually witnessing our culture change. TGIF was a block of television programming that aired every Friday night on the ABC network. Its shows were saccharine, like Family Matters, Perfect Strangers, and the original Full House and Boy Meets World. They were all corny and hokey, but entertaining and harmless, even if they were slightly brainless. Believe it or not, this was a time period when The Simpsons was arguably the edgiest show on TV, including cable channels. This was also the time period when The Simpsons was actually funny. I remember a particular episode of Step by Step. Step by Step was TGIF show about a blended family that resulted when two divorcees, played by Patrick Duffy and Suzanne Summers, met and eloped on vacation without their kids. I suppose it was like an updated version of The Brady Bunch, but it had a Fonzie-like character named Cody played by Sasha Mitchell of Kickboxer 2-4 fame/infamy. This is all relevant to my example, I promise. Anyways, I remember an episode when Karen, the pretty daughter of Summer’s character, snuck off to a college party. When hosts somehow learned that she was a virgin, they tried to shame her into…er…doing something I’m not quite clear. I remember the scene of the two dude bro hosts and the party goers chanting “Virgin! Virgin!” over and over as Karen became increasingly upset. About that moment, Cody walks in to the rescue picks up one of the hosts, pins him to the wall and says “So what if she’s a virgin? I’m a virgin. You gotta’ problem with that.” To which the other fellow replied in a comically intimidated voice, “No, I respect your decision” cue laugh track I remember Cody explaining to Karen how he was okay being a virgin because he wanted his wedding night with his wife to be special. cue “awwww” track

I know some people will only cite that example as further proof that I was “indoctrinated,” but beyond the messages I grew up with, I honestly think I gave sex more thought than others. Critical thought, I mean. I wasn’t referring to boom-chicka-wah-wah thoughts. My treatise on sex as 21 year old was that it was like tape. Having sex with someone was like placing a strip of tape on a surface. A bond forms between the two bodies. Breaking up with that person and acquiring a new sexual partner was like pulling that strip of tape off and reapplying it somewhere else. What happens to that strip of tape when you repeat that process over and over gain? It loses its stickiness, its ability form that bond. That was my belief on the divine purpose of sex, to provide emotional reinforcement to the bond between a couple. More sexual partners would erode the ability for sex to make that bond, so that’s why I was supposed to wait for my wife. Sex was supposed to be completely absent from the dating process. When I did date someone, I was supposed to focus my intentions on getting to know her as a person, her beliefs, her goals, making sure we were compatible with regards to long term values so that the pleasure from sex didn’t distract us from problematic issues.

My point being, my intention to delay having sex was reinforced from my church, my entertainment diet, and my own genuine thoughts. Surprisingly, my parents didn’t provide much guidance, but as long as I made straight A’s, they didn’t complain. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly certain that most of the kids I came of age with, especially those from my church home, shared that value at some point. Although, I don’t think they gave sex the level of thought conveyed in the previous paragraph. I think college made the difference. At that point, we were given the reigns of our own lives. The only thing to stop make-out sessions from going too far was individual will power, which amazingly subsided when the threat of a butt-beatin’ from one or both of their dads was also absent. All the while, I was spending my evenings in the library or the gym instead of meeting girls to even have the opportunity to fail that self control test.

Funnily enough, so many of those who “failed” that test are happily married, even if some of them are on their second spouse now. The very traits that allowed them to “make that mistake” are the same traits that allowed them to find romantic partners to begin with. It’s like the world changed, which it sort of did. So many of my convictions on sex, marriage, romance, and the like haven’t provided consistent results. Those who didn’t save sex for marriage aren’t enduring diminished relationships. Those who did ended up getting divorces. Those who married outside of my faith were able to make the relationship work. Those who didn’t sometimes couldn’t.

Granted, the vice versas of those examples also occurred. I’ve seen those principles work and fail with no discernible consistency favoring one way over the other. I adhered to those principles, though. While I was far from any kind of Casanova, I declined the very few opportunities I actually had for a roll between the sheets, namely during my early twenties. However, there appears to be a difference between being 23-year-old virgin as opposed to a 34-year old virgin, especially if you’re a man. When you’re young, at worst such ideals come off as cute naiveté. They’re also easy to adhere to when you have time on your side, when you could be married within a year and get to enjoy a spouse when you’re both still young, pretty, and vibrant and your lives are comparably simpler. I’m getting to an age and stage where being fit and shapely requires much more intentional effort, smiling shows off more wrinkles, and every time a shave my head, I have to sweep up less and less hair trimmings. As time passes, potential lovers or spouses are more likely to have lives complicated by children, advanced careers, or baggage from previous relationships. Sand is draining out of that hour glass, and I’m concerned my aforementioned values aren’t working, and if I don’t change them, my romantic situation won’t change either. Even worse, the longer I wait to change, the less likely I will be able to change anything at all. As someone else once explained it, being single is like being in the bathroom, it’s perfectly normal, but if you do it for too long, people think something’s wrong with you, and then gross images pop into their heads, and then every time they see you, they suspect you smell a little funny. I’m afraid I’m getting past the point of “smelling a little funny.”