I am currently operating under Plan Z . Contrary to your first thought, I'm not refering to the planned re-equipment and expansion of the Nazi German Navy. Plan Z, in my own sense, refers to the plan engaged after Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, Plan D, Plan E, Plan F, Plan G, Plan H, Plan I, Plan J, Plan K, Plan L, Plan M, Plan N, Plan O, Plan P, Plan Q, Plan R, Plan S, Plan T, Plan U, Plan V, Plan W, Plan X, and Plan Y have all failed. I really thought I had it with Plan T but that was embarrassing.
Plan Z is beautiful in it's simplicity. Abandon all instincts. Abandon all of my instincts. The moral of the story is always: "Be Yourself" and "Find Someone Who Loves You For Who You Are". That might work for other people but that's never, ever worked for me. I'll try being myself after I start dating someone but until then, it's Plan Z.
Simply everytime I feel like I should give her a small gift, I should comment on her favorite band, I should sit next to her, I should ask her out, I should kiss her hand, I should write on her Facebook wall, I should invite her to a party, I should call her, I don't. It's a stupid plan. I know that. But every previous plan as failed. Right now, this is the best one I've got.
Besides, it's working.
Sort of.
Kind of.
Not really.
Five
It can be safely assumed that this will be the last post of the 20 Year Old Virgin. In five days, I become a 21 Year Old Virgin. And it's pretty safe to assume I won't be losing my virginity over the weekend. Unless...no, probably not this weekend. I'm pretty sure I've elaborated on this before but I have no intention of losing my virginity in a one-night stand. I've waited this long so I want to have my first time with someone I care about and someone I know cares about me.
That means I won't just go out to a party and have sex with this girl.
I know I'm just repeating previous posts but consider this a summary. We've reached the end of the line and only time will decide the future. Will I lose my virginity next week or next year? Will it be five days from now or five years? Five days seems too soon to find someone I care about and who wants to have sex with me. But five years is...five years is too long. At that point, I'm sure I'd just find a Chinatown massage parlor and pitch in an extra $20 for the "happy ending".
Good night and good luck.
Sometimes, I wish I was gay.
I wish the penis was as attractive to me as a pair of C-cup breasts or a righteous jungle booty. I wish had a knack for fashion, an overdone lisp, and a penchant for Parliament Lights. I wish I had a blond faux-hawk and-- Oh. Yeah. Unfortunately, I am not gay. I think penises are pretty gross (but I do appreciate having one and the ability to pee anywhere). I'm not all that stylish, my voice cracks but doesn't lisp, and I can't smoke. I do have a bathtub mohawk, though, which I found out after several trips through boy's town is the number one gay haircut. Which explain why I have argued with more than one gay man on my sexual preferences.
Sometimes I wish I was gay because I believe I would have at least a marginal better chance of understanding gay men than straight women. Every time I feel I've learned something about the female mystique, I find I have made a female mistake.
Twelve
I understand in the grand scheme of things, not finding love in the first twenty years of my life is no big deal. I still have years ahead of me in which to find someone who cares as much about me as I do about them. But after twenty years of rejection, I don't really give a fuck anymore. I'm not looking to just have sex. That's not what this blog is about at all. I'm looking for relationship. I'm looking for someone I can spend time with. I'm looking for someone to be my best friend. I'm looking for someone who cares enough about me to fuck me.
beautiful woman said "yes". I think. When I asked her out, the blood rushed to my ears and I watched her smile and nod and say something but I never heard what it was. I assumed it was a "yes" and that seemed to work since we went on a date.
Of course, that's not the end of the story since here I am, writing in my personal sexuality (or lack thereof) blog when I have an un-started 4 page paper due in 12 hours. There has been no second date in two weeks and I wonder how much is that her being ridiculously busy and how much is me making the same mistakes again and again. I don't want my first victory in twenty years to end now because of my own mistakes. I also don't see how I can avoid this fate. I know I've asked for advice and input before. I know I've never gotten any. I know there are people who read this. If you have moment, let me know what you think. I could really use it.
In the past, I've seen my object of desire on the horizon
But now, I want my desire and the only thing I see holding me back are uncontrollable circumstances of time and timing. A few more weeks here, an extra night there and I could have a relationship. That's assuming I don't fuck it up but I've been waiting three years for this chance and so far I've tread very carefully. Following the old law, I would see this as a sign to give up but I don't want to. I'm not going to. Not until it's too late.
Thirty Two
Thirty two is the average adult's number of teeth. Teeth is a new movie about vagina dentata. Vagina dentata is the reason why I will never, ever have sex. Sex is the end of this blog. This blog will go on forever. Forever is the amount of time I will remain a virgin.
I do recommend this horror comedy but only if viewed in a theater containing at least 40 or more viewers. It is only sufficiently sized audience laughs hysterically and groans in agony can one be constantly reminded that is fiction, not real. To watch this at home with a small group of friends or, god help you, alone, would result in irreparable harm to your sexuality.
Be warned, they show everything. Everything except the teeth.
There you sit in middle school, minding your own business and picking your nose when an intricately-folded piece of notebook paper appears on your desk. Carefully unfolding the origami masterpiece, you discover the ultimate question:
unfolds into
Time stops. In your sweaty fingers you now hold a document with the power to change your life forever. Not only has a separate human being acknowledged your existence but they want to share their existence with you. This not an issue to be dealt with lightly. That's why they've given you three options. If there's only two, throw it away. They're not being serious.
[ ] YES
[ ] NO
[ ] MAYBE
Only with three options can one properly convey the wide spectrum of feelings associated with romantic love. With that thought in mind, there is only one correct answer.
YES is for extreme circumstances and is highly discouraged. Even the most dead set stalker could be turned off by this forward response. There is no quicker way to take the mystery out of a relationship than checking yes.
NO is just cruel. At the same time, it can be necessary to nip it in the butt. If you don't want any part of your sunny future to be darkened by the hideous monstrosity that delivered the current question, go ahead and heartlessly check no.
MAYBE is the one, true answer. A maybe can mean yes with a chance of no. Mystery burst anew like the juicy filling of a Gusher. A maybe can mean no but also I don't puke when your name is mentioned. To some people, that's a compliment. A maybe is filled with hope, with possibility, with opportunity and everyone can appreciate that.
Right now, I've got six pieces of paper on my desk. They all say MAYBE.
Four:
When sexual fantasies are discussed, most men are satisfied with the idea of a threesome. Two women are so convinced they want to have sex with you that they can't even wait for the other to go first. What a compliment. Never mind the logistics of three people having sex together is going to result in pairing off repeatedly with the third member struggling to find an opening. But hey, don't listen to me, I'm just a virgin.
Would you like to hear the joke? It's kind of funny.
Okay, the scene opens on myself and three girls that I find very attractive but also consider good friends. (This is the realm of dreams and social norms and boundaries are completely disregarded.) I'm in my boxers, the girls are all in panties. Nothing more. Surprisingly, everyone has relatively matching underwear color.
Kind of a rosy white, which I guess is just pink or as Crayola would say "Flesh Tone". We're all sitting and/or kneeling on my double-high air mattress inflated in my Chinatown apartment's living room. It's day time and we're all well illuminated facing each other expectantly.
The first two girls are tacitly serving as my wing mates in my attempts to have sex with the third girl but she needs some coaxing. One girl begins kissing the third girl and me and the remaining girl watch expectantly. The third girl breaks away as I enter the kissing explaining she doesn't isn't drunk enough yet. Of course, there is a beer fridge (belonging to my roommate Mike) right next to the air mattress where I find four beers to pass around to everyone. After some drinking and joking, we resume kissing and here I start to gain control and do what I want. But in a dream, that's a death sentence for I slowly at first but with acceleration wake from the dream. After cursing the heavens, I check the clock and rationalize that I don't have shit to do that day so why not go back to bed.
A few moments pass and I slip back into the dream world, and for the first time in my memory, I slip right back into the dream. Literally moments from where I left off. I was so excited I nearly woke myself. Following dream logic, we decide to leave the queen-sized air mattress for my little twin bed in my room. Here things get a little heavier with kissing and licking and grinding and all those tamer behaviors when the not-drunk-enough-yet girl informs us she is still not drunk enough yet. Again, get off the bed and head back beer fridge. O! Woe is me! No more beer! I return defeated and there, the dream fades for good and I am left with a poor moral for the day.
The reason I bring up this dream, which happened close to two months ago now, is I wonder if and, if they do, how sexual fantasies change after have sex. Here I again, I call on my reader community for some input because you have the answer. Most of you, anyway. I'll leave it there and if I get a response I'll take it further.
Channel Four in Britain has a line up of programming called "Virgin Season" including shows like Virgin School, Make Me a Virgin, and Desperate Virgins. It's in Virgin School where 26-year-old virgin James "...embarks on a unique four month course for sexually inexperienced men, in Amsterdam." Most of the course is confidence building with a concentration in sex. YouTube clips reveal that lessons involve fully-clothed thrusting in front of a mirror and an anatomy lesson with a real vagina. Reportedly, this picture is from the final exam. The question then arises as to what girl could date James after watching his most uncomfortable and televised four months? Perhaps the perfect girl.
The obvious question for this blog then becomes "Does the 20-Year Old Virgin intend to take the next plane to Amsterdam?" It's a very enticing idea but I don't it's come to that. Since I've put the pussy on a pedestal as Jay would say, the idea of learning sex for the first time in a supportive environment of people who's entire job is to teach virgins sex is very appealing. But I don't have four months.
One:
A video game which came out today called Army of Two uses the perfect song in their TV spot.
So I reflect back on the one-sided relationships which consume my life, love, and liberty. The terrible demon who haunts me is called Limerance. I've mentioned the monster before but I don't know if I explained it that well so I thought of a metaphor. Or simile. Or whatever.
Imagine puppy love as a...well, a puppy. Cute, innocent, good-natured. Now where the puppy love fades after a while or grows into real love, limerance does not. As time goes on, the puppy transforms into a demon like the man-eating rabbit of King Arthur. Generally, only young children can tell the differences between puppies and demons as exhibited in this picture.
It is with great displeasure then that I, in true high school freshman style, have found a Nine Inch Nails song that perfectly defines the problem.
Yes I am alone but then again I always was
As far back as I can tell
I think maybe it's because
Because you were never really real to begin with
I just made you up to hurt myself
When you love someone who doesn't love you back, you build up an image of this person that they could never fulfill. Every word and gesture is interpreted with momentous portent. You make up this romantic image you can of your object of affection and when they don't align with that image, you get hurt. It's not their fault, it's just my mis-perception of them. And in my case, even when you know exactly what's happening, you still trick yourself into stepping in the same bear trap.
I'm sure that if anyone actually found this blog, they've given up by now due to my long hiatus. I mean, how many of you out there expected some major Valentine's Day coverage? Well, I did too but it just didn't quite work out for that.
I spent the last week up until last night getting only 2 - 3 hours of sleep a night. I stared at the ceiling for most of the night and would get up and read or surf the internet for a while before getting back in bed. I wasn't really tired through the day, just the first couple hours after I got of bed but it still scared me. I guess it's just insomnia inherited from my mother's side of the family. The week ended with a full six hours of sleep and the best sex dream I've ever had. A full relationship from first meeting to going steady with a woman who was two or three years older than me. Like a real sexy Winona Ryder and did I mention her job? Lesbian porn star. That was a great dream.
But let us not tarry, I declare this post the Official Valentine's Day Edition.
Ninety-Nine:
I have ninety-nine problems and they're all bitches. I envy Mr. Z for his absence of problems related to women. I can't imagine such a life. Thinking back, I don't remember a time I wasn't lusting after, crying over, or politely declining a woman. Though I've only been around for twenty yea-
Wait, what? Did the virgin just say he declined women? I do not believe him and I will no longer read his blog.
Now wait a minute! Dear reader, please give a moment to explain. Over the years, I have had a number of sexual propositions ( three in the last 2 months) but I have turn down these offers due to the fact that they were all like this girl on the right. Pretty but also pretty drunk. Though only one of them was on a toilet and none so far have had the phrase "iStockphoto" floating under their boobs. Now why would I reject sex from beautiful women if I wasn't gay or afraid of sex? Besides the consent issues and my first time being with someone not entirely there, I respond with a question:
Why do girls only want to have sex with me when they are drunk?
What is it about my appearance or character that can only be found attractive after $20 or more of alcohol? I am flattered that the girls find me attractive enough that they'd want to sex me but at the same time it hurts that the next morning they would not feel the same way.
I guess I should thank liquor for the light and heavy petting I've received over the years so, thank you liquor. But I have still not gotten to Valentine's Day itself. If I feel it's really necessary describe what happened, I'll make another post in short order. Stay tuned!
My apologies for my absence. I know you hang on my every word and who am I to deny you? But I went home for a little while and since I've got back, I've been quite busy. And by quite busy, I mean playing some new video games. I know, a great step forward in my mission of self-improvement. Wait, I never mentioned my 3-phase plan for a better life? Pardon me. Let me introduce you.
- Collect Underpants
- ?
- Profit
See after I collect the underpants I--no, wait...for a better life, not for profit.
- Reduce gaming
- Start Exercising
- Get Off My Ass, Go Out, And Find A Beautiful Girl Who Loves Me As Much As I Love Her For A Better Life
A simple plan, really but I have made little to no head way on any phase of the plan. I've put in embarrassing/impressive gaming hours. I do 30 push-ups a day and rarely more. I sit in my apartment and wait for a beautiful, funny, smart, exciting, single girl who likes me for who I am to knock on my door and politely ask for sex in the near future. I'm very optimistic but the odds are against it.
One Hundred:
Over my weekend back home, I was casually invited to the event of the year: Great Aunt Millie's One Hundredth
Birthday Celebration. Though I don't have a Great Aunt Millie nor was I ever introduced to her, I did enjoy her food, friends, and family. You can see me on the left with the party's host, Jesus H. Christ, in the basement of the church. While finishing up more than my fair share of the grapes, I picked up conversation with one of the seven women with whom I have a verbal contract of an arranged marriage. Since she was a born, she's a year or so younger than me, her aunt and my mom have planned the wedding. Though she is beautiful and smart and all that good stuff, I am under no misconception that she is going along with these arrangements. We talked about school and other things, avoiding the pink elephant until she left to talk to someone since she actually knew other people at the party.
So I meditated on the idea of promised love. Arranged marriages, long distance relationships, pre-engagements-engagements. I have seen living, working examples of all of these but only enough to count on three fingers. Upon reflection, the innocent story of seven promised wives has instilled the idea of promised love into my core. Subconsciously, I believe that along the road of life, I will eventually come across the perfect woman and we will live happily, ever after.
It may come to no surprise to you but five days have passed and I'm still a virgin. Incredible, I know. I must admit I'm not so surprised but I ask myself, why am I a virgin? I don't know that I know but I have a strategy to figure it out. I will find the answer the same way a Tomahawk missile finds it's target.
"The missile knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't. By subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is (whichever is greater), it obtains a difference or deviation. The guidance subsystem uses deviation to generate corrective commands to drive the missile from a position where it is to a position where it isn't and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was is now the position that it isn’t."
Twenty-One:
Twenty-One, besides being the atomic number of scandium, holds a lot of power in America due to it being the legal drinking age. Unfortunately, for this blog, twenty-one will be the end because I can not justify continuing this blog when I'm not twenty anymore. Or a virgin. But I have a feeling my twenty-first birthday will come first.
Twenty-one is the number of reasons that immediately spring to mind when I think why I am a virgin and more importantly, why I don't have a girlfriend. Twenty-one is the number of Playstation 2 video games I have. Of course,
It occurs to me that I should mention I'm not Christian or Muslim or very religious of any sort that would encourage or enforce abstinence. I'm a Buddhist and not a very good one at that. No, religion does not determine my virginity but I do agree with some of the ideals. I see sex as the highest expression of love. After holding hands to hugs to kisses and so on, at the top is sex. The beast of two backs which joins two people to one. This may be a the biggest reason why I am a virgin since I do not see sex as something to done casually or for it's own sake. It's definitely not the only reason though.
Now that I think of it, more than my ideals would be my emotional disorder, limerance.
After researching online, it helped me out considerably. To have a name for something that affects the way I think and behave on a daily basis helped me deal with it better. But it's not a cure and there is no cure except to find someone who loves me back. Easier said than done.
Hi, I am 20 years old and a virgin.
I imagine after the first sentence you may be disappointed for clicking in on this blog to have the only thing you already know about me repeated. But it's important that you read that sentence since that is the entire guiding principle and practice of this web log. This is a way for me to understand what it means to me and to society to be my age and still a virgin.
'Cause there are few people my age that I know that are still virgins. I mean virgin virgins (I'll explain further down). I'm not saying that that's a good thing or a bad thing. That's part of this blog. To discover what society really thinks of virgins. For that reason, among others, I ask for your comments. If you are inspired, moved, angered, annoyed, bored by anything you read here, speak up. Your support/antagonism is vital to this project.
Two:
Two is a powerful number signifying balance, union, and duality. Good and evil, life and death, love and hate. Duality and duplicity are, unfortunately, in my nature. And sometimes in mother nature like this poor creature.
Ee gahd!
Anywagon, two is the number of questions you probably have.
1. Why are you a virgin?
2. How virgin are you?
There may be a third along the lines of:
3. Why did you feel it necessary to post the picture of this kitten, in your first post no less?
A Google Image Search for "two" came up with this picture in the number one slot. Perhaps something profound like the beauty of nature is not always pretty to look at or something but we all know that's not really what I was thinking. Pure and simple shock value. Either you're into this blog Day One or not.
As for Question One, "Why are you a virgin?", this is a major question I am exploring in this blog, so I can't answer it now. I'll give you some ideas next time I post and maybe you can give me your ideas.
Seeing how this is the first post, and I'm still introducing myself, it is important to answer Question Two, "How virgin are you?". Not to dodge the subject but it's a difficult question to answer with the huge variety of definitions for the word "virgin". The original Latin form defines virgo means "young woman" or "girl". Another definition with different spelling is virga, a "strip of wood". Many other definitions in German, Spanish, Turkish, and so on all define virgin as "a young girl", often with derogative connotations. The Hindi definition means "diminished sex".
You tell me.
