Ok, so it wasn’t Wayne Rooney that got accused of ‘kissing like a virgin’ recently but the sentiment is still the same. I don’t suppose it was meant to be a complement. It only serves to highlight the fact that being a virgin can be an alienating experience for your average young western person. And being a male virgin can be the pits. Not that I am taking sides. People have got quite impassioned about this at times on my blog, about whether or not virginity is a bigger burden for a girl or a boy…and I’m not going to take sides. It’s a different burden. Women undoubtedly have more choices when it comes to the loss of virginity. Whether or not woman want to take these choices is another matter but the fact remains that when push comes to shove (no pun intended) a woman can find a man to avail her of her virginity. We hold the cards.
In my forthcoming book, I use peacocks to make this point. Female peacocks don’t have beautiful plumage like the males do because they don’t need it. It is the female bird that gets to choose which male she will mate with. The boys just have to sit there and hope that they'll get picked. All this stuff about girls waiting to get chosen to dance at the school disco is a total fallacy. Most men will tell you that women have the power. We just don’t realize it is all!
Today’s young man feels the pressure in a big way. Lucky for him he has the brains to get off his backside and do something about it. As his last sentence attests…‘It is part of a past I am working through as I seek to find ways to express my sexuality in a healthy, positive manner.’
‘Dear Kate,
I recently stumbled upon your blog and feel compelled to share my story with you. I’m rather reserved, so such self-disclosure is pretty remarkable. So here it goes….
My name is Philip. I was born in 1975, and I live in the USA. I lost my virginity when I was 22.
Growing up I was shy and found it more difficult to make friends than other kids. I was also raised in a Christian environment that frowned on any form of sex outside of marriage. I hit puberty and experienced the same flood of hormones any teenager does, yet I was extremely anxious around girls. I didn’t date. When I finally was brave enough to ask a girl out as a senior in high school, she declined, battering what little self-confidence I possessed. In college, my shyness and social awkwardness continued to inhibit me. I rarely dated and never came remotely close to having sex. I did somehow manage to have a girlfriend for 6 months—she was the first girl I kissed—but we remained chaste. (She strongly believed in saving sex for marriage.) When she broke up with me, I was devastated.
I was conflicted in college. I was still a Christian, as were most of my friends. I believed in the sinfulness of extramarital sex. Yet I found myself in an environment where most of my peers were having lots of sex. When combined with the cultural expectation that a guy my age should have lost his virginity by this time, I felt inadequate. My strong sex drive didn’t make matters easier. I looked at pornography and masturbated almost daily.
During my senior year of college, the thought first entered my mind of visiting a call girl. At first I brushed it aside, thinking that I could never go through with it. But the urge to do so kept reappearing. One Saturday night I was by myself in my apartment, depressed and lonely. And really horny. I decided to go through with it. I checked into a hotel room and called an escort service.
The lady on the phone recommended a strawberry blonde ‘with porcelain skin’ in her 20s. While I waited for her to arrive, simultaneously excited and petrified, I opened the nightstand drawer and reached for the Gideon’s Bible. Seriously. I was skimming through the Bible as I prepared to lose my virginity to a prostitute. After what felt like an eternity, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and saw an attractive young woman. She had a very pretty smile. As I greeted her, I remember thinking in my mind, ‘I’m going to have sex with her in a few minutes.’ After some pleasantries, we sat down next to each other on a couch. She was dressed nicely and professionally, as if she was on her way to a job in a bank. She must have sensed I was terrified, so she started a conversation that put me a little more at ease. (Needless to say, she did most of the talking.) She told me about her life. I still, years later, remember and appreciate her friendliness and kindness.
After about 10 or 15 minutes, she leaned in close to me and asked what I wanted to do. I stammered and mumbled some evasive reply. She said, ‘You can ask me anything.’ I leaned over to whisper in her ear and blurted out, ‘I want to have sex with you.’ I leaned in to kiss her, but she slid back and gently told me, ‘Escorts don’t kiss.’ She sensed my dismay and, smiling, reassured me, ‘I’m a very sexual person. We’ll have fun.’
Soon I was fumblingly attempting to undress her. At some point I confessed, ‘I’ve never really done this before.’ After we undressed and got on the bed, she started caressing me and nibbling on my ear. ‘You’re a cute thing,’ she said. As I was lying on my back, she placed her body on top of mine and…
I ejaculated on her leg.
I was mortified. She told me, ‘It’s okay,’ and went to the bathroom to clean herself. Once she returned to the bed, we talked for a while. It didn’t take me long to get aroused again, and I started to explore her body. I spent time rubbing and kissing her breasts. She laid me on my back, moved her head over my crotch and started to give me a blowjob. I watched with fascination as her mouth slid up-and-down the shaft of my penis. After going down on me for a few minutes, she asked, ‘What do you want to do now?’
‘Let’s f**k.’
She put a condom on me, lay on her back, and guided me inside her. I don’t remember much about the physical act itself, only the thought in my head, I’m inside a woman. I’m finally fucking a girl.
I climaxed and she cleaned me up with a washcloth. We then both sat on the edge of the bed. Instead of being relieved at losing my virginity, I started to feel very depressed. She noticed me looking forlorn and tried to cheer me up. ‘Don’t look so sad.’ She smiled at me, gave me a kiss on my cheek and said, ‘You’re a really nice guy.’ She dressed and I accompanied her toward the door. As she exited, she smiled again and wished me good night.
I spent the next couple of days in bed, paralyzed by guilt. Despite the positive qualities of the escort I hired, the encounter left me feeling empty and sad. I had violated my moral beliefs. For a few days, I felt ashamed to face my female friends and classmates.
But it wasn’t enough to stop me from doing it again. Since my first time, I have visited more than 90 call girls, and, outside of a couple of affairs with older women, my sexual experiences have been exclusively with prostitutes. My attempts at forming relationships have been a mess. I just started therapy for sexual addiction and depression. Oddly, though, my regret at losing my virginity to a prostitute isn’t as deep as you might imagine. I suspect that even if I hadn’t called that escort service, I would have found some way to lose my virginity. And my sexual compulsivity probably would have eventually led me to pay for sex anyway. Nonetheless, it still isn’t a happy memory. It is part of a past I am working through as I seek to find ways to express my sexuality in a healthy, positive manner.'
I am simply out of words after reading your article. I want to appreciate the way you handled such a complicated subject.
Posted by: Generic Viagra | May 26, 2012 at 07:39 AM