Virgin at thirty

Am I a wizard?

Let me tell you one thing. The one who said that you will become a wizard if you live as a virgin until age of thirty was a liar. Unless I understood instructions wrong, in which case after thirty I must perform a ritual intercourse to unlock my wizard powers.

Jokes aside, what I have here is a sort of self-analysis, disguised as a post with no structure. I allowed my confusing thoughts to simply flow from one thing to another. And it seems that I’m more confused about relationships then my virginity. Because virgin part is at the very end of this mess.

Let’s get this over with.

Hello, My name is Artie and I’m thirty years old. *slow clapping* In these thirty years I haven’t had a single relationship. Oh…and I am also a virgin (label of the century). *Ha-Haa*

So. Why am I writing this? This is something that is sitting in me and eating me up for ever. There are things I need to get out of mind, which means that relationship thing is only a topping. My insecurities and fearful, shameful feelings about myself are lying down below.

When I was in kindergarten I found my first love. Or more likely my first crush. With her I had my first kiss…under the sink. Probably a lousy thing it was but the first kiss nevertheless. She will always have a special place in my heart even if I’ll never meet her again.

As a kid I had good relationships with everyone. I suppose you don’t separate girls and boys at that age. But something went completely wrong around age 12-16. My guess would be hormones and constant bullying as in laughing about me. I know that bullying was about my stuttering. But at some point I consciously became ashamed of my body.

When you go to physical education classes you must naturally change clothes. Which means to get partly naked. Every time I had to do it I felt uncomfortable. And I changed as fast as I could. Shower was not an option to me, I never used them. That’s why when these classes were on the first period I always put on my sport suit at home. Also I never used public shower in inside-pool for example. Few times I had to use them I did with my shorts on, so that I’m not fully naked. Later in life I didn’t use gym shower either.

Question I should I ask myself is why? Why so suddenly I became ashamed of my body? I was skinny, weak. I have ectomorph body type, small and long bones. Of course I’ll look skinny at that age. Other thing is, for some reason I became ashamed of my penis size. Let’s say that was around age of 13. In my undeveloped, still growing body I was concerned about the size of my penis, silly me. And that was just another ingredient to lower my self-esteem. This size thing actually bothered me for a really long time. Stupid articles about it, porno, and advertisements about penis enlargement didn’t helped either. To put it in perspective, I got over it only four years ago. And while we are at it, my concerns about penis size was the main reason I haven’t developed a healthy sexual relationship.

Relationships

Let’s talk about relationships. What is a relationship? It’s a word. A noun. Google has more then one definition but this time I will talk about “a romantic or passionate attachment” (mostly).

Before hormones engaged their hyperactivity, girls were normal human beings. Not girls at all. Then hormones found a sacred switch they were looking for. Girls became Girls. And female teachers became bigger girls. It most likely happened around age 13. In no time I became physically attracted to multiple girls of my age and older. Inside school,outside school, TV, everywhere. At that age I simply recognized how beautiful girls and women were. Interaction was still playful. I even got numbers from girls who lived nearby. Despite my stuttering, you see. Then a year or two later I pushed it all away. Girls once again became normal human beings. And what I did with other human beings? Pushed them away, became afraid of them, you know the story.

But I was resisting this path. Long time ago there was a late night TV show where you could send text messages and they would show up in a chat box. There were mostly single people looking for new friends. I tried my luck and found a nice pen pal. She lived in a different city so we used snail mail to send letters to each other. Why not sms? I can’t remember at all. Maybe I used my moms phone or sms rates were high, no idea. Years later we began writing to each other on the internet. But our connection dissipated. And that was probably my fault. I’m pretty sure I refused to meet here in real life. Why? Because I had my low self-esteem, I didn’t want her to hear my stuttering and I had my fear from people.

This pattern repeated itself quite a few times. I was comfortable with writing. That’s why I spent lot’s of time in chat rooms, speaking with different people. Why? Because words I wrote didn’t stutter. I developed great connections with people, mostly girls…why else would you go to chat rooms? But as soon as there was a talk about meeting in real life or talking through video, I ripped these connections apart. And…khmm…began all from a scratch. Maybe that’s why I like to have multiple characters in mmorpg’s, maybe I have problems with commitment?…Not the time, not the time.

Quiz time: Who can tell me the most important letters one can write in the chatroom?

Later in life I invested a lot of time in the game called Conquer online. When it first started that game was amazing, community was awesome. I tried to get back to it few years ago, but that game lost it’s charm. Anyway, for a long time I played it only with my friend. Then I found a cool guild where I became a Deputy Leader. Through recruiting I found a girl. We had a connection so we married in that game. We also began to talk through MSN. Our relationship developed nicely, but something went wrong and connection was lost. I’ll just blame myself again.

Where I won’t blame myself is with a woman I met on Omegle. We had a great connection once again, so we continued our conversations through emails. Yes, she had a husband. Yes, she had kids. Yes, she was older. But we could talk about stuff. I think I even gave her an advice how to keep her relationship with her husband. I was able to help others, except myself, ah irony. From nowhere she cut our conversations. To be true to myself, I was actually sad. She was one person I could normally talk to and she disappeared. I tried to send her couple emails to find out why, but she never replied. So I wished her and her family all the best and I let her go.

That, as I think about it, was a lesson too. It never crossed my mind until now. There is a strength in letting go. If your relationship is breaking apart. If you have exhausted each other. Why keep yourself attached to those loose strings between you? Let go and strength will return.

All these interactions and connections happened between age 13 and 20. That time, no matter how many memories I have, always is blurred together. After my regular chat rooms died out, I lost interest in them too. And my real life social life was non existent.

If I felt physical attraction to girls then it was drowned in my insecurities.

A memory

There is this one memory. For as I know it could be as real as my other strong memory where three jets flew over my head in kindergarten. I haven’t told this to anyone, for obvious reasons. But I can’t forget it and maybe it’s better let it out.

Around age of eight my mom somewhere found a new friend. So for that summer we moved to his private house. We left after one month there. He pretty much wanted us to be slaves who would work for him. When I assembled my bicycle by myself and took it for a ride, he yelled at me, because I wasn’t working. During this month I also outrunned a huge rooster who was chasing me after I fed him and his wives. He made me a wooden sword which was pretty cool.

But he also had a son. At least I think it was his son. He came to visit during that month, because I don’t remember him being around much during that time. And with him comes this memory. This is something that really no one knows. Even now I feel shame and fear from this memory. And yes, I’m stretching the time because this memory has messed with my mind for all my life.

I don’t remember if we had to sleep in one bed or he came to my bed that night. But he was there and he touched me. How much he touched me? How far he went? Did he kissed me? I can’t remember. I locked that memory deep, but from time to time it came out and it made me weak, ashamed and full of fear. Later I tried to analyze it, when I explored if I was a gay, but all I remember is, me laying on the back in the bed, him being close to me and touching me. Only this one time, no other nights, just this one locked in my head. I believe that it is a real memory, but three jets flying low over my head also feel real. Maybe it actually happened, just not with the jet planes but normal little planes or I’m still trying to convince myself that nothing happened?

This one memory alone has put so much shame and fear into me. I even felt ashamed just of remembering it. I have been angry at myself for remembering it. And there was no chance that I would tell someone about it. Could this event have planted the very first seed for my insecurities and shame about myself? Possibly. But because I locked it away and refused to recognize it, I never thought it could be a reason for the way I feel about myself and others. Most of my attention was focused on bullying so it was easy to blame bullying for all my problems in my life. Including relationships.

Then there are men in my moms life. I have seen them come and go. Not so many as you might think. But after my dad died, every single one has been pretty much useless and unworthy of her. With the last one she was together around fifteen years, but even so he just pulled her growth down. And she has somehow managed to attract weirdos to her. I can say that because I’m her son. Oh! I hope she will allow me to write about her current man. He’s a walking comedy.

Why am I mentioning them? Because by being silent I became observant. And seeing her relationships during these years I learned mostly what not to do in them. I think it’s needless to say that no one was a role model for me. What I learned from the last one was that a man must have the money for his family. Because he gave us the money which helped a lot. But what I also saw, that by giving his money he tried to buy the love of my mom. Despite his money I don’t think he gave much value to her.

By taking this concept of providing for the family I expanded it a little bit. I have never had much money in my life. In my second year in Germany I saved quite a lot for my standards, but I was clueless on how to make it grow, so this pile of treasure disappeared. I wasn’t able to have enough money for myself, so how can I have relationships or family? Do I need to find a girlfriend to live on her neck, while I work on my issues? It was a big no for me. That’s why I made a deal with myself. That I’ll have a girlfriend only then, when I am done dealing with my issues and have a decent income for my own needs. Is this the right attitude to develop? You tell me.

My knowledge about relationships come from observation and from things I have read. I actually refused to read about it too, because I thought if I don’t have one why should I read about it. But reading about things you don’t think you will need is healthy.

There was a time I thought that I am a gay

I was fine with woman couples, but felt uncomfortable with male couples. To be fair I felt uncomfortable every time I saw any couple holding hands or kissing in front of me or simply being happy together. That made me to ask myself a question. What is wrong with me? I like girls. Ok, that’s fine. Also I’m bad conversation thingy, but I’m working on it.

I have seen a lot of strange couples that made me think, how did they got together? Am I really that dumb or damaged that I can’t find a girlfriend? Or, maybe I like guys? You know a trauma from that molestation memory and all. So I went on exploring this option. It didn’t took me long to understand

that I was attracted to the girls more then to the guys. But I learned to be more open to male couples. I learned to recognize how beautiful faces men have and butts too. I tried to watch gay porn also, well…yeah, no shame in that. It’s harder to tell you that I was molested as a kid then that I watched gay porn. By the end I was at peace that I have a healthy attraction to the women. So the next possibility I played around was asexuality, even though I had no lack of sexual attraction. A dead end and I still was a healthy heterosexual. All leaned back to my inner problems which I had plenty.

I decided to look back at interactions with girls from the past, and going forward I took a more playful approach to interactions with future girls. And I analyzed them as I moved forward in life.

What I learned I will not tell you…just kidding…

I am capable of having a conversation with girls just fine. With pretty and not so pretty girls. Remember that everyone is beautiful in it’s own way. But I would be lying if I would say that I find every single person attractive. I have my own preferences for what does count as beautiful and what does not. I’m pretty sure that everyone has this filter, so don’t lie to yourself that you don’t have it. Is it possible to override this filter? I think it is.

I am a visual person so the first thing I care about is the person from the outside. That means, the first thing I notice is body shape and the facial structure. BUT before you start to throw rocks at me. It applies only to the girls I would like to see next to me as a girlfriend or for heavens sake in my bed. And if in the first seconds I don’t find both the body and the face attractive and I can’t imagine making babies with that person, there will be nothing more then hugging. BUT (yes, I know…sheesh another one) you can be the most beautiful girl and you pass the first impression, but if nothing logical comes out of your mouth, all of your beauty will become ugly. And vice versa, if the girl whom I find not so attractive, but she speaks my language, she will become beautiful in my eyes. But even then she will be only a friend.

I have high standards for a girl I want to be with me. I’m aware of that. Are they too high? Few years ago I thought that yes, plus they are actually unrealistic. I lowered them, tried to look at a different point of view. I didn’t like what I saw so I pushed them back up. With the understanding that I must meet these standards myself. That requires huge amount of learning and growing. Do I meet these standards now? Not yet, but I think I’m close.

See. That’s why I am single and a virgin. I have made this simple thing complicated. In words it indeed looks complicated, so maybe it makes sense only in my mind.

Let’s talk about my virginity

It feels like coming out. Probably because I haven’t talked about this, and who would ask anyway. Years ago one person actually asked me straight and plain if I’m a virgin. And I looking in his eyes straight and plain lied that No I’m not a virgin. Why I lied? Mostly because of shame and I felt uncomfortable. I was ashamed about this already at age of 18. Seeing couples around me made me feel even worse. Sometimes I played a game, while looking at couples I said “You will have sex tonight, and you will have sex, and you too, but not me.” As years went on shame became even deeper. Because you see, there were babies now. They had sex, now they have babies, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out what is wrong with me. And I was convinced that at my age, which was 20+, everyone has healthy sex everyday and I had failed as a man. I often thought before sleep, how many couples will have sex at this exact moment while I’m trying to fall asleep alone. The only reassuring mantra I said to myself was that “My time will come.” And it will come, when I’ll stop sabotaging myself.

Being virgin also sets a stage for interesting problems. If for some miracle I’ll end up in a relationship, how to tell that person that my sexual experience is nonexistent? What reaction I can wait? What people even think about adult virginity…is that even a thing? I have no answers to these questions.

Now at age thirty I’m over that stupid shame thing and I’m at peace with me being virgin at this age. And looking back I can clearly see that there was not even a tiny space for me to have sex. I was emotional mess absorbed in my own problems. So being a virgin is a byproduct of my own problems. That is until two years ago. For two years now it’s my own personal choice. Why? Because I came to understanding that living without sex is not the end of world. I don’t need to do it because everyone else is doing it. That doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in sex anymore. I will gladly have sex with a woman that is open minded about this and is willing to teach me intricacies of intimacy. Oh, snap…before my bravery runs away I’ll expand more to this. What I want to learn is art of sex. I think that putting penis in vagina (sorry kids) is at the very bottom. And according to my anatomy studies there isn’t much to learn. The real thing that counts as sex comes before and after that penetration thingy. But hey, what does virgin know.

Recently I came to discovery that I want children too, so there is that.

What else?

I could easily pay for some escort girl and be done with it.

Yes I could, and no I didn’t want to do it. Because, why pay for something I could get for free. If I can’t get sex in a regular way then there are issues I must work on. I didn’t want to take a shortcut which would do me no good.

And before someone is thinking to put me off balance by asking me if I masturbate. I’ll just tell to everyone now, that Yes I have a tendency to do that. How else could I relieve sexual pressure and have hairy legs?

This was actually scary to write and publish. But just like other stories this was something I had to get out of mind. Will this change something, only time will tell.

A penny for your thoughts