It’s the first anniversary of this blog (July 6th) and I figured I may as well get one in now. As always, a hearty thank you to everyone who has read along with me and contributed to this blog. I didn’t begin this for attention, but I have been touched by that which I have achieved with it all the same. After all, my topics are hardly upbeat and cheerful, so I do appreciate those who’ve chosen to slog through them.
I figured for this anniversary I would bring things full circle and discuss something I revealed in my initial “origin sequence” post last year. It’s something I have mentioned here and there throughout my accounts of my adventures, especially recently. This may get repetitive and for that I do apologize. However, it is something which does bring anxiety to me and is one of many reasons why I have become the Dateless-Man. It’s something which I have mentioned and discussed before as parts of other stories or narratives, but now I will give it a post all its’ own. It’s the shame that I carry with me that in some way I think about practically every day of my life, at least for a second. It is still possessing my “v-card” as the hep cats say these days; of still being a virgin past age 30. While I have chosen to talk about my past experiences with women and relationships in this method (with an anonymous blog where I never reveal anyone’s real names or ages) for many reasons, one of them is fear that somehow, someway this could trace back to my “real online identity”. That somehow someone somewhere could trace this back to my personal Facebook account or so on and “expose” me. Having someone figure it out on my day to day life is something I dread. It is part of why I rarely discuss relationships with others, besides the fact that I have no perspective to offer since I’ve had no experience but failure. I have friends who do “know”, but they are few and far between, and for the most part they haven’t brought it up in years as far as I know. The rare occasion when they have, it was unpleasant. But, they are a minority of a minority; at most, 10% of the hundred and change people I know online and off. It is a number I don’t want to see rise.
Naturally, issues of virginity, virility, and sex are entirely social constructs and have been constructed from a position of male dominance untold eons ago. Since sex has existed, there have been issues with it for humans, it seems. It is a shame, since humans are one of few animals even able to have sex pretty much whenever we want for reasons beyond pure hormonal procreation, and we’ve spent so much of our history as a society over the course of centuries complicating it. The majority of the pressure and control is focused on women. In America, sex in some way is used to sell products and is depicted and exaggerated in nearly every form of media we consume, yet it’s a topic few ever want to discuss at all, even married couples. The “Madonna/Whore Complex” – that a woman is either a virginal Madonna or an irredeemable whore – runs deep and where one draws the line with it depends on who is measuring. I never had such a complex and I find it absurd personally; where does one draw the line? Two lovers and a woman can still ride “The Madonna Rail”, but three and she can’t? Sex becomes a commodity when it shouldn’t. However, sexism is a double edged sword that cuts both ways. A man’s virility is seemingly determined by two things – how romantically experienced he is, and how successful he is in either athleticism or economics. Presumably, fulfilling one or the other can lead to both. But to have neither, and one can feel like less than a man, or at least different from others. That is how I have seemingly always felt. I know intellectually that this is bull; a construct invented by others hundreds of years ago that I personally disagree with. However, this isn’t “The Matrix” and merely knowing such things doesn’t bestow with it any extra powers or opportunities. It merely allows you to see the strings that pull you, or the fence that confines you. It offers no assistance in circumventing such things.
There are apparently different types of virginity, which makes me feel like a select species of animal; am I wild, domesticated, crested, etc.? Usually this comes with an act which the virgin hasn’t performed, with a “less” at the end. For instance, if you’ve never kissed anyone on the lips, you are a “Kissless Virgin”. Despite the name, I’ve technically been on three romantic dates, so I’m not a “dateless” virgin, at least.
One of the most difficult things about being an older male virgin, at least to me, is that it makes it difficult if not impossible to try to build myself up or put my best foot forward. My best efforts feel like a facade because deep down I know I have had no success in the matters of the flesh, and thus can’t possibly guarantee a good experience for a partner. How can I try to act like a confident man to a lady when deep down I know none have wanted to have me? As I detailed before, I spent much of my youth desperately trying to put on an act to cover for my lack of experience, even into college in my 20’s, but it always was hollow. But going into the opposite direction – being as honest as possible – doesn’t work either. By and large, being a virgin past 30 for anyone seems to bring with is assumptions from others about who you are and why this is so. Unfortunately for me, I prove all of those assumptions right. Someone would assume I was a loser, or had something wrong with me. I do. That’s the terrible fact behind it. I am a neurotic mess. I am terribly shy and socially awkward. I am a bit of a loner (to put it mildly). I don’t like bars or clubs. I always hesitate and freeze once any discussion with a woman even hints at an opportunity to ask her out or pursue things beyond small talk. Having that V-Card at my age is a badge which may as well tell a woman, “This will not be fun.” All of the onus on experience will be on her, and that won’t be fair. She would get literally nothing out of it, and while that might be easy to ignore if I was a parasitic sort who liked to use others to my own ends, I’m not. New York, especially, is a fast paced place, where people barely have the time to slow down for any reason. People my age are planning families or working towards the end of their careers, not trying to make up for lost time back in high school or college.
And so it becomes something I have to hide, which is even worse than the lipoma on my back in some ways. Any plan or scheme to try to reenter the dating world has to work around this fact. I may be able to discuss many topics with a date, but I can’t discuss relationships. Sure, I can be vague and dance around the issue, but before long any savvy woman would notice – especially as intelligence is a quality I usually find attractive. Eventually it has to come up. But, when is the best time to bring it up? Certainly not on a first date if need be. However, what it for some reason things got steamy? Is it something to bring up before the clothes come off? Before any physical touching happens? After kissing? Heck, I don’t even know how to kiss, so that alone will be off putting and terrible for her. And the horrible thing is that it wouldn’t be deliberate; I would be trying to do my best. Sadly, if there is one feeling I am familiar with, it is the realization when “your best” isn’t anywhere near good enough. It is a terrible, soul crushing, gut wrenching feeling to be a failure on every level at some task.
Do I not mention it at all? Just go with the flow and stumble and bumble my way through things? Try to “wing it” and improvise when I haven’t a clue as to what to do? There are many problems with this, of course. The biggest is that there are women out there – I know, I have read their testimonials and heard them talk personally – who do not desire to sleep with a virgin. The reasons don’t matter, nor any feelings about “fairness” or whatnot – people are allowed to have their own standards about who they do and don’t want to share their bodies with. It would be wrong and dishonest to use sheer ignorance to try to get past this, for I probably would have no way of knowing of someone I was on a date with would even be someone who had this “preference” unless we discussed it. And if we discussed it, then she would have to know. It is hard enough to share my deepest, darkest secret with friends I have known for ten years or even longer; it is even harder to do so with a stranger I am attracted to. It requires being nakedly honest before we’re nakedly anything. Besides being dishonest, a failure to disclose it would also put me at another disadvantage. Having never had sex before, I assume it, like any other skill, is one that only improves with practice. I know that no two people are the same and there’s always some awkwardness and things to learn and adjust to with every partner, but some of the fundamentals are the same. I am not so arrogant as to assume (or even hope) that I would be any good at sex my first time just because of luck or raw talent. If I fail to reveal my secret, a woman might assume I was terrible because I am terrible, and I’d never have another shot with her. At the very least, being a virgin is a very good reason to be terrible at sex.
It is worries like this which make it difficult to flirt, or learn how to flirt, or attempt to flirt. I feel that all I am leading towards is another awkward moment atop of more awkward moments. That there are no end of hurdles in terms of dating me and there’s no reward in the end for the woman I am with. I am not tall, or handsome, or have much disposable income, or my own place, or a car. I am not charming or fit or have any sex appeal whatsoever to anyone who isn’t an elderly nursing home resident. I went to nursing homes constantly towards the end of my grandmother’s life, and women of that age flirted with me constantly. I have a sense of humor and I am modestly intelligent, I am loyal and I try to avoid being judgmental. I’m not perfect; I have a temper at times and I try to resist being selfish or shallow, even if this can feel like a work in progress. These are all traits that most women could get from a friend or a pet; they are not traits which are first and foremost in a lover. They’re simply the icing on the cake. When you offer nothing but the icing, that just doesn’t do.
As I explained once before, even my fantasies are boring. While I do have a minor fetish, I would never reveal it and I can be aroused without it. However, to best describe things, I seem to fantasize and desire what’s called “cuddling” more than actual “penis in vagina” thrusting. I have no issues with “taking orders in the bedroom”, so long as they were within reason. Being a virgin, it would be stupid of me to have such issues; I’d need all the help I could get! Despite how awkward I may be with so much as hugging in real life, in my mind I imagine what it might be like to massage, to caress, to kiss, and do all that stuff before, after, or during the intercourse itself. I would do my best to try to please any lover, regardless of any anxiety on my end. It certainly isn’t the sort of domination or kinkiness which seems to be in the media now.
I know that the simple act of sex won’t cure all of those woes, and even if it did, it is not an act which I desire (or are able) to pay to remove. And there’s no one I feel I can discuss this with. Most of my friends are men, and that’s a subject which is awkward at best to talk about. I have a few female friends but that also is an uneasy subject to bring up. While there are no end of forums on Reddit or other places online full of male virgins like me, they often are full of anger and venom for women, of which I don’t share. I don’t see women as flesh to be conquered, nor do I see the act of sex as a zero sum game to get at all costs. I seem to care more about sparing hypothetical women I have never met any discomfort than I do for attempting to bring myself any comfort.
And so the v-card becomes a vicious cycle. It becomes impossible to even plan towards trying to date the older I get while I still have it. And that naturally causes me to keep it longer, and longer, and longer. Past age 30 is past the age where most women around my age range could be understandable, and I don’t blame them. The older I get, the less of a pool I have to date from, as well. After all, once you’re 18-19 and out of high school, high school students are out of bounds. Once you’re in your mid 20’s after college, teenagers (or anyone under 21) should be off limits. And at my age now, I’d feel like a dirty old man going anywhere near someone who was under 25 (and would prefer someone older than even that). Before long it will be me in a nursing home, and not as a visitor.
I may as well stop here while this post maintains some coherence. Thanks for reading, and hopefully the next year will bring with it my final adventure with the opposite sex to recount, some more opinion pieces, and then some closure. I want for this yearning to be abolished once and for all.