The Last You’ll Hear About Me Being a 22-Year Old Virgin

Let’s get this out of my system once and for all. I’m really obsessed with the fact that I am a 22 year old virgin. Sure, I’ve got friends saying “Don’t worry. We’re in the same boat. It’s no biggie.” Are you sure it’s no biggie? I mean, have you people been watching TV at all in the last ten years? Every week, we are presented with another contrived sitcom plot where we see two of the characters in bed together. It sure is implied what they just finished doing! And not just the sitcoms! The commercials are just as bad. Every ad on TV right now seems to have some hot guy and some hot girl doing something suggestive to sell clothes. Or hamburgers. Or cars. You’ve got magazine covers with headlines like “The 12 hour orgasm” and “10 positions to blow his mind.” When you’re a pop-culture junkie like me, you end up seeing this stuff everywhere. How can you not be obsessed?

It’s even worse when you consider my people. Yes, I happen to be a fan of science-fiction. Yes, I enjoyed the book The Hobbit. Yes, I’ve seen Star Wars Episode I twice. Yes, I read comic books. Yes, I have my own website. Yes, I own a few episodes of Star Trek on video. According to those sitcoms, my people are the most likely to be this age and still virgins. Hell, those sitcoms say I’ll still be virginal at age 40. I always wondered why my demographic seems to be the one that’s the most picked on, and I think I’ve figured out why. We are the true radicals. It all starts in high school. While everyone else was busy out there experimenting with their bodies, we were developing other interests. Sure, they had sex, but we went out and got ourselves futures. And some think, television writers mostly, that what they saw in high school dictates how we will lead our lives. Well, guess what? We grew up. We created lives out of our science projects, our programming skills, and our love of literature. That explains my demographic. But not me.

With so many friends telling me that this is not a problem, why do I have it so set in my mind that it is a problem? I should quit blaming society and focus on me. True, society is not the problem, but they sure aren’t helping any. I look back on my life, brief as it’s been, and certain things stick out like a sore thumb. I haven’t fucked anyone. I haven’t been out on a date. I haven’t even been kissed yet. My problem isn’t the fact that I am a virgin, but it is the extremeness of my virginity. I say virgin, and people instantly assume I’m talking about sex. But it’s not that I haven’t fucked anyone. It’s that I’ve never loved anyone.

What is this thing love that people are so hung up on? What drives them to write stories about, sing songs about it, and make movies about it? I have no clue! All I know about love and relationships is what I’ve seen in society, and I tell you, it’s been a lousy teacher. All those sitcoms I watch so much have made it very clear: sex happens on the third date. A kiss is not required, nor expected, on the first date, so get it ready for the second. They always tend to present this allegory of “the bases.” “I got to first base last night!” they say. “I got to third with her!” they loudly proclaim. Could someone please tell me what these bases are? And, somewhere in the middle of all this, people are supposed to fall in love. As a teacher, society always seems to leave out some of the finer points. So, any parents who are reading this, I give you this lesson: never let society be a teacher! That’s why we have the education system. And you guys. Society dictates that we kids are supposed to get “the talk” from you guys.

I never had “the talk” with my parents. I think it’s because they saved it for when we kids had questions. I mean, my brother started asking questions about it his second day of high school, so he got “the talk.” When my sister started dating, I think my parents gave her “the talk” against her will. But she got it. But, because I’ve never dated, I never had questions, and I never got “the talk.” And now, to expect it at 22, that is weird. So, I’m pretty sure I’m on my own from this point out. What a shame to have missed out on one of the milestones of growing up.

Speaking of milestones, the one thing that hurts me the most about my virginity is the fact that I am this age, and have yet to experience that first kiss. Most people, when they reflect on that first kiss, tend to go back to the third grade, and it happened during a game of spin the bottle at their best friend’s birthday party. And, by mere coincidence, it was the person they had a crush on. It was magical! It was wonderful! It was special! For me, it’ll probably be with some girl in the back of a bar when I’m 36. And, when someone is this out of practice when it comes to kissing, you can imagine the questions that arise. How is it initiated? Do I lean in? Does she lean in? Do I keep my eyes open or closed? Do I keep my mouth open or closed? Do I suck? Does she suck? What does the tongue do in all of this? My head explodes with all those questions. From my point of view, the kiss is a lot more complicated than fucking. In my mind, there is a lot more pressure to get that first kiss right than that first fuck. But, TV tells me that vice-versa is true. I think in this case I’ll go with my gut.

And flirting! That’s another thing I have no idea how to do. So I don’t. I definitely know that nothing’s going to happen if I don’t start flirting. But, you’ve got to admit, that is something you cannot screw up. When encountered with an attractive person, flirting is generally your first impression. Never, ever screw up a first impression. See, since I don’t flirt, I haven’t screwed anything up yet. It’s a simple logic, but it leaves me home alone, in my basement, to write about why I’m a 22 year old virgin. I think that this is how I’ll flirt. I’ll just be honest. When someone “tickles my fancy,” shall we say, I’ll just walk up to her and say, “I suck at flirting, so I’ll just say straight up that I find you quite attractive.” I’ve never been one for diplomacy, anyway. But will this result in the ultimate goal?

My ultimate goal is to sleep with someone. Not what you’re thinking! What I mean is to have someone lay beside me and sleep there. Someone with whom I can gaze upon as she sleeps and think to myself, “This person loves wholly, completely and unconditionally. And I love her wholly, completely and unconditionally.” I lose my virginity the day that happens. I lose it the day I have a special someone to snuggle up to and watch my sitcoms with. I lose it the day I finally get that first kiss. I lose my virginity the day I fall in love. If I eventually get to have sex sometime in the relationship, that’s just a bonus.

When I was in the ninth grade, a person (the girl I had a crush on, ironically enough) asked me when I expected all this to happen. I said when I turned 16. My schedule has been corrupted. And those who know of my obsession with time know how much I hate to miss an appointment. I used to be OK with that, but then I started watching Ally McBeal. That show has warped my perceptions of love, life, and sex so badly, that I can’t help but be obsessed. My friends say they shouldn’t let it get to me, but I don’t think they ever fully understand. Half of them are in relationships right now. They have what I want. They are not virgins in my eyes. They have someone to love. I do not. I understand Shakespeare’s words: “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” I have never loved. And it’s a living hell.

And that’s why I’m obsessed with the fact that I’m a 22-year old virgin. I’m glad I finally got that off my chest! As they said in that one movie, “You can either get busy living, or get busy dying.” Now that I’ve gone public with this, I guess my true test will be seeing what I can do about it. It’s time to take some risks. I know that she’s out there somewhere. It is time to start looking, and quit being looked for. My journey is just beginning.