I have a brunch date tomorrow (Sunday) with Felicia. This is a second date. Like with Sarah, I met her online. But unlike my $120 dinner with Sarah, my first date with Felicia consisted of one drink for her and one drink for me, for a total of $22 (yes, drinks are expensive in Manhattan).
It feels so weird that a fairly attractive woman would actually want to see me again. I don't get what I'm doing right.
I have no idea what I should wear to this brunch date, which will be at a fairly nice restaurant on the Upper East Side. I was thinking a polo shirt worn out and jeans, because I don't want to give the impression that I'm trying too hard and Sunday brunch is sort of informal, I think. If anyone from Manhattan is reading this before noon tomorrow, please help me out.
I hope she doesn't invite me back to her apartment afterwards, that's always so awkward. I have no idea what women expect when they do that.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
My first, and maybe last, (unrequited) love
In my mid-twenties I was attending graduate school, and this story happened one summer when I was working as an intern at a government agency.
Through happenstance, I was partnered with this girl named Jenny. I was immediately smitten by her looks. Now up to this point in my life, I had never had much contact with girls I considered to be pretty, and in fact I was certain that no girl like Jenny could ever remotely consider me worthwhile even for casual conversation.
But a strange thing happened between me and Jenny. We became really close friends. The internship didn't require us to do much work, so we had a lot of free time to just hang out and talk. Being with Jenny was a pure delight. I came to realize that she was the most wonderful and beautiful girl in the entire world, and there was not a single other person on the entire planet that I could imagine spending the rest of my life with besides Jenny. I didn't understand the emotions I was experiencing at the time, but yes, I had fallen in love with her.
This was purely unrequited love, because there was absolutely no romantic contact between us and no evidence that she thought of me as anything but a friend. Also she had some loser boyfriend with big muscles that I presume she was having sex with (although I'm not sure where because she was living with her parents and he would never let her into his house).
During the course of the summer, I realized that I was totally incapable of doing anything to move our relationship to the next level. The thought of telling her how I felt, or putting some sort of "moves" on her, filled me with dread and terror.
Making things even worse, about a week before the internship was to come to an end, Jenny suddenly distanced herself from me. She didn't say anything at all about this, and tried to act like nothing had happened. Yet I was so attuned to her that I instantly was aware that something had changed. Who knows why? Probably she was put off by the puppy dog-like way I followed her around and looked longingly at her yet never made any kind of first move.
This was the only time in my life that I thought seriously about committing suicide. I felt like life wasn't worth living without her. Suicide seemed like a pretty good plan, except that I was as terrified of committing suicide as I was about attempting physical intimacy with Jenny. So I made a pact with myself to kill myself on my thirtieth birthday if I couldn't find love and sex by then. Obviously this was a pact that I never followed up on.
My relationship with Jenny was a major turning point in my life. I learned about how great it felt to be in love and how horrible it felt for the love not to be returned. Ever since, I have been haunted with the desire to experience that feeling of love again. And although I became brutally aware of how terrified I was of physical intimacy with women, I also learned that an attractive woman could consider me worthy enough to be a very close friend.
Through happenstance, I was partnered with this girl named Jenny. I was immediately smitten by her looks. Now up to this point in my life, I had never had much contact with girls I considered to be pretty, and in fact I was certain that no girl like Jenny could ever remotely consider me worthwhile even for casual conversation.
But a strange thing happened between me and Jenny. We became really close friends. The internship didn't require us to do much work, so we had a lot of free time to just hang out and talk. Being with Jenny was a pure delight. I came to realize that she was the most wonderful and beautiful girl in the entire world, and there was not a single other person on the entire planet that I could imagine spending the rest of my life with besides Jenny. I didn't understand the emotions I was experiencing at the time, but yes, I had fallen in love with her.
This was purely unrequited love, because there was absolutely no romantic contact between us and no evidence that she thought of me as anything but a friend. Also she had some loser boyfriend with big muscles that I presume she was having sex with (although I'm not sure where because she was living with her parents and he would never let her into his house).
During the course of the summer, I realized that I was totally incapable of doing anything to move our relationship to the next level. The thought of telling her how I felt, or putting some sort of "moves" on her, filled me with dread and terror.
Making things even worse, about a week before the internship was to come to an end, Jenny suddenly distanced herself from me. She didn't say anything at all about this, and tried to act like nothing had happened. Yet I was so attuned to her that I instantly was aware that something had changed. Who knows why? Probably she was put off by the puppy dog-like way I followed her around and looked longingly at her yet never made any kind of first move.
This was the only time in my life that I thought seriously about committing suicide. I felt like life wasn't worth living without her. Suicide seemed like a pretty good plan, except that I was as terrified of committing suicide as I was about attempting physical intimacy with Jenny. So I made a pact with myself to kill myself on my thirtieth birthday if I couldn't find love and sex by then. Obviously this was a pact that I never followed up on.
My relationship with Jenny was a major turning point in my life. I learned about how great it felt to be in love and how horrible it felt for the love not to be returned. Ever since, I have been haunted with the desire to experience that feeling of love again. And although I became brutally aware of how terrified I was of physical intimacy with women, I also learned that an attractive woman could consider me worthy enough to be a very close friend.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Thoughts on the movie
In the future I will write more about my past, which I think you will find more interesting and will better explain why I'm still a virgin.
But today I will write about my date on Tuesday night because it's more temporally relevant. Her name is Sarah and I met her on Match.com. (There are probably lots of virgins using Match.com because it's a lot less scary setting up a date with someone via online personals than it is to approach someone in person and ask her out or ask for her phone number so you can call her to ask them out.)
There was once a time when any contact at all with a girl was a terrifying experience, but I've come to like first dates if the girl is nice. There is no sexual pressure on a first date except at the end when I don't know what I'm supposed to do. (Do I peck her on the cheek? Shake her hand? Grope her ass and stick my tongue in her mouth? I have no idea.)
I met her at her apartment, which is much better than meeting at some restaurant or bar where I'd have to stand outside wondering if I'd recognize her. But it's somewhat surprising that she allowed such a meeting place. I'd be embarrassed if I let a woman from Match.com meet me at my apartment, and she turned out to be grotesquely overweight, and the doorman had to see me going out with such an horrific date. Maybe my photos gave her some level of confidence (not that I look so great), or maybe she is so used to living in a doorman building that she no longer thinks of the doormen as human beings.
Although not drop dead gorgeous, Sarah did turn out to be pleasant looking. Her two main flaws are (1) she looks 36 years old (which is her age); and (2) she has a weak chin. And yes, I shouldn't judge people because I'd surely come up short if others judged me, but unfortunately I'm a human being, and this is what we human beings do.
Because I was late on account of getting stuck at a meeting at work, I said something like "since I get paid by the hour, I guess I owe you a nice dinner," and she took the opening to suggest this very nice Italian place near Lincoln Center with outdoor seating. Although dinner wound up costing $120, I'd say it was worth the money, because it was one of those really nice places you always wish you were dining at, but you can't go there alone, and you can't go there with a guy friend because people would think you were gay eating at a place like that with another guy. So you really need a girlfriend or a date, and because dates are rare and I've never had a girlfriend, such a nice meal was a welcome opportunity.
And I enjoyed her company. She was nice to look at and pleasant to talk to. But she was not as bright as most of the women in Manhattan. She only went to a local state school instead of an elite private college like most Manhattanites (yours truly included). And she was completely fascinated by the fact that we both had the same birthday. I pointed out that one of every 365 people you meet will have the same birthday as you, but she seemed unable to grasp the mathematics. And then she started telling me about her interest in astrology, which I had to politely listen to. Believing in astrology isn't the worst flaw a woman can have. Being a vegetarian, for example, would be a lot worse.
After dinner I walked her back to her apartment building, at which time I had to deal with that awkward ending. The first time around wasn't so great, she would have let me kiss on her on her lips, but I chickened out and went left. Then we stood outside talking for another twenty minutes or so, and although she's going on vacation for the next two weeks, she encouraged me to call her on her cell phone while she was away. I find it very touching when a woman gives me encouragement to call her again, because in my initial experiences with dating (which I will write about in future posts), my first dates almost always tried to avoid all contact with me afterwards. I then kissed her again, and this time landed a quick kiss on her lips, and touched her upper arm while doing so. Better than the first time.
But today I will write about my date on Tuesday night because it's more temporally relevant. Her name is Sarah and I met her on Match.com. (There are probably lots of virgins using Match.com because it's a lot less scary setting up a date with someone via online personals than it is to approach someone in person and ask her out or ask for her phone number so you can call her to ask them out.)
There was once a time when any contact at all with a girl was a terrifying experience, but I've come to like first dates if the girl is nice. There is no sexual pressure on a first date except at the end when I don't know what I'm supposed to do. (Do I peck her on the cheek? Shake her hand? Grope her ass and stick my tongue in her mouth? I have no idea.)
I met her at her apartment, which is much better than meeting at some restaurant or bar where I'd have to stand outside wondering if I'd recognize her. But it's somewhat surprising that she allowed such a meeting place. I'd be embarrassed if I let a woman from Match.com meet me at my apartment, and she turned out to be grotesquely overweight, and the doorman had to see me going out with such an horrific date. Maybe my photos gave her some level of confidence (not that I look so great), or maybe she is so used to living in a doorman building that she no longer thinks of the doormen as human beings.
Although not drop dead gorgeous, Sarah did turn out to be pleasant looking. Her two main flaws are (1) she looks 36 years old (which is her age); and (2) she has a weak chin. And yes, I shouldn't judge people because I'd surely come up short if others judged me, but unfortunately I'm a human being, and this is what we human beings do.
Because I was late on account of getting stuck at a meeting at work, I said something like "since I get paid by the hour, I guess I owe you a nice dinner," and she took the opening to suggest this very nice Italian place near Lincoln Center with outdoor seating. Although dinner wound up costing $120, I'd say it was worth the money, because it was one of those really nice places you always wish you were dining at, but you can't go there alone, and you can't go there with a guy friend because people would think you were gay eating at a place like that with another guy. So you really need a girlfriend or a date, and because dates are rare and I've never had a girlfriend, such a nice meal was a welcome opportunity.
And I enjoyed her company. She was nice to look at and pleasant to talk to. But she was not as bright as most of the women in Manhattan. She only went to a local state school instead of an elite private college like most Manhattanites (yours truly included). And she was completely fascinated by the fact that we both had the same birthday. I pointed out that one of every 365 people you meet will have the same birthday as you, but she seemed unable to grasp the mathematics. And then she started telling me about her interest in astrology, which I had to politely listen to. Believing in astrology isn't the worst flaw a woman can have. Being a vegetarian, for example, would be a lot worse.
After dinner I walked her back to her apartment building, at which time I had to deal with that awkward ending. The first time around wasn't so great, she would have let me kiss on her on her lips, but I chickened out and went left. Then we stood outside talking for another twenty minutes or so, and although she's going on vacation for the next two weeks, she encouraged me to call her on her cell phone while she was away. I find it very touching when a woman gives me encouragement to call her again, because in my initial experiences with dating (which I will write about in future posts), my first dates almost always tried to avoid all contact with me afterwards. I then kissed her again, and this time landed a quick kiss on her lips, and touched her upper arm while doing so. Better than the first time.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Introducing the almost 40-year-old virgin
I'm less than two years shy of 40 years old and I'm still a virgin.
This is worse than admitting that you're an alcoholic. Alcoholism is a semi-cool psychological illness. Lots of rich and famous people are alcoholics. How many rich and famous people are/were still virgins at nearly the age of 40? Besides the Pope, probably none.
I'm sure I'm not the only person my age afflicted with this problem. But the thing about us virgins is that we're very private and shy people, and extremely embarrassed about our condition. One of our greatest fears is that people might discover our affliction. That's why you won't see an Oprah Winfrey show devoted to virgins. As if she even cares about this unique male problem anyway.
Through the anonymity of the internet (although I am aware that the people at Google/Blogger can easily figure out my real identity if they track IP addresses), I am creating this blog to inform the world about what it's like to be as old as I am and still a virgin. But the short answer for now is that it really sucks.
This is worse than admitting that you're an alcoholic. Alcoholism is a semi-cool psychological illness. Lots of rich and famous people are alcoholics. How many rich and famous people are/were still virgins at nearly the age of 40? Besides the Pope, probably none.
I'm sure I'm not the only person my age afflicted with this problem. But the thing about us virgins is that we're very private and shy people, and extremely embarrassed about our condition. One of our greatest fears is that people might discover our affliction. That's why you won't see an Oprah Winfrey show devoted to virgins. As if she even cares about this unique male problem anyway.
Through the anonymity of the internet (although I am aware that the people at Google/Blogger can easily figure out my real identity if they track IP addresses), I am creating this blog to inform the world about what it's like to be as old as I am and still a virgin. But the short answer for now is that it really sucks.
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