By JR Reed
A 36-year-old female virgin. I knew she existed. It’s just that I had never met one in person. I assumed she would be hideous in some way, but this one wasn’t. Not at all. This one was a cute, personable Latina. She was quick to make friends and her social calendar was always full. This wasn’t a chick who stayed home on Friday nights, curled up with the cats watching Lifetime or Oxygen.
This was a Mustang driving, drinking, laughing, funny cute virgin. I met her online and we quickly hit it off. We decided to have dinner at Downtown Disney, next to Disneyland, and see where things went. It started off well. It was comfortable and we were laughing. I didn’t yet know her secret and I was trying to get a sense for how things may turn out.
She chose Tortilla Joe’s restaurant—a wanna-be Mexican joint. I asked if she was sure she wanted Mexican, especially if it wasn’t real Mexican food. “I’m here with you and I want you to go Mexican tonight!” She squealed. She wanted me to, “Go Mexican”? I liked the way that was sounding. High five for me!
She dropped her bomb on me as I took a bite of chili relleno. I quickly swallowed my food, looked up and said, “No shit?” She looked a bit surprised at my response. I apologized and said, “Let me rephrase that. Seriously?” “Of course,” she said with a giggle. “I told you that I was never married.”
Wow. The quick version is that the virgin was Mexican catholic and that her mom had scared the shit out of her about sex outside of marriage. She truly believed she would burn if she were to “engage in those activities”.
You may think that things developed slowly, but they didn’t. By the end of the first date, she had her tongue somewhere near my stomach and had grabbed my ass a half dozen times. Over the course of the first month I tried a couple of times break the seal, but figured I would proceed slowly. I enjoyed spending time with her but anytime it ever got to more than some light groping under clothes, she started getting uncomfortable. Until a Cuervo-filled night at my place.
That night she decided that touching in any way was not only appropriate, but was much appreciated. I saw this as a huge step in the right direction. There was still no touching of the naughty areas with anything other than fingers, but I was happy. And hopeful.
The next few months were all about me dropping innuendo and trying to convince her to change her stingy ways. One night we discussed the fact that she was a catholic schoolgirl and what would God think about her having sex before marriage. “God knows who you are as a person,” I told her. “I think he would be so impressed with you for waiting ‘til you were 36. Especially when so many of your classmates were probably dirty sluts. I’m very sure God would be willing to call this one a draw. You don’t lose any points….”
Dating the virgin was odd, but in a good way. I was reminded that there are other aspects to a relationship besides just sex and it allowed me to find more creative ways to beg for sex. I give her an A+ and huge extra credit points for her faith and her willpower. No way I could have lasted until I was 36. No way in hell.
Right now you’re probably asking yourself right now, “J.R. Did you? Ever?” How did I know that? Someone always asks it. I’ve written three blog posts about her, with another one coming soon. To find out, you’ll have to read it for yourself.