Until I Get Married

In her defense, she told me before we even went out on our first date. It was kind of like a warning, but I didn’t take it that way, more so like a challenge. She was a virgin and she was going to remain that way until she was married. Having known my reputation for liking sex (which isn’t even really a reputation so much as it is a stereotype, accurate and true), she wanted to give me an out, but that’s not what I wanted.

I wanted in. Not in a physical sense. The challenge I saw was not to break this girl down and make her change her mind. I just wanted to be close to this girl I had my eye on for months, and was curious to see if I could actually get to an intimate connection that goes beyond sex. So I accepted these circumstances and I gave it my all, as a consequence, this is what happened.

The first date convinced me I could do this. Did I want to sleep with her from the moment we met at a park? Sure did. Did I care we weren’t going to do it that night nor anytime in the not so distant future? Sure did not. On our first date, the virgin thing was only discussed briefly because I was curious to know more about her position on it. Was the decision based on a certain upbringing, religious beliefs, secular-but-deeply-seeded personal beliefs? She explained all of it to me and even said to me she was very sexual, she didn’t have sex.  I was intrigued on how that worked, but more importantly, I was having a good time with the girl sitting on that park bench.

That first date turned into many more dates, most of which occurred at her place. She liked to stay in and I certainly didn’t mind it, because staying in with her also meant a fantastic feast. The girl could cook and she cooked often. For two weeks, there was absolutely no problems. Even in the bedroom where “nothing” was supposed to be going down, a lot was actually going down between us. She was one of those “everything-but” girls and I thought it would suit me just fine. Who needs sex, I thought.

Then three weeks went by and I realized, I needed sex. I can’t recall it being any one particular thing that switched the tempo. Or, wait a minute, I actually do.

I went to her place straight after work. She was already there, and when she opened the door, there she stood in an apron and black lace underwear. The food smelled delicious. She looked delicious. We ate the food. Then went to her bedroom to make out for what felt like the 50th time since our first kiss. All night. I kept on hitting triples. No home runs. Just up to third base, and then, back to sleep.

In relationships where both parties know things are going to go down eventually, waiting can be frustrating, but it’s a part of the game. I don’t get caught up in the whole when-should-a-woman-give-it-up question because I feel like she should give it up when she feels like she wants me. That’s going to make for the best experience. But with the virgin, there was no waiting game because, well, it wasn’t going to happen, not until she wanted to get married. Oh, and about that, marriage and all, she didn’ see herself walking down the aisle for at least five years.

Frustration was mounting, unlike me, and it would especially boil over when we argued about things unrelated to the big elephant in the room. I found myself growing irritated by small, trivial things, and even more upset that when the argument passed and it was time to makeup, we would only go so far before we had stop. And trust me, we always went far. As a matter of fact, there were a couple of times where we thought we were going to round home, but it was always in the most passionate moments, when neither of us were thinking with properly.

To the girl’s credit, she noticed my frustration and began to ask me if things were okay, but not in one of those patronizing ways. You know, when people know what is wrong and want to try and get them to just say it? She knew exactly what the issue was, and while she held firm to what she believed in, she still wanted to try and make me happy, so she came up with an interesting proposition.

I remember this vividly, we were both lying in the bed together and my eyes were closed. It was, mid-afternoon, a weekend. Kind of quiet. “You know, as long as you didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t mind if you did what you had to do,” she said. When she finished her sentence, my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“Huh?” I said, now turning to face her.

She looked back at me and as serious as a face one can make without looking resentful or angry, she said, “I want to see you happy, so you can do what you want with who you want, just don’t tell me.”

I was baffled and kind of happy, feeling like I was just given bail money. But I kept everything under control and honestly, I was still confused not as to what she meant, but what it all meant for me.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

Then, I thought for a couple of days about it. Here was this girl who I really liked but wasn’t doing this one thing that I felt was very important in any relationship. I was thinking about everything from as logical of a point of view as I could. I saw the pluses. I saw the minuses. I weighted them. Discussed it with my boys, some of whom also saw the pluses and minuses. I didn’t know what I was going to do and what was funny was how my confusion was all I needed to clear things up.

The way I saw it, the only reason why I was thinking about what on paper seemed like an ideal arrangement, was because I actually liked the girl. My frustrations weren’t about the fact that I couldn’t get any. Within the time the girl and I were dating, I had more than a couple of chances to do get my rocks off with other girls, but such thoughts never even permeated my brain. And now that I was given approval to do so under the most convenient of conditions (just don’t say anything), the desire I had to be with other women was something I had to think about?

What I realized was I wanted to be intimate with the girl I actually liked. This girl, whose cooking I loved, whose company I dug, whose beauty was so striking I wanted to ask her for a wallet sized picture I could carry with me, that’s who I wanted to be with in every single way one could be with someone. And I don’t think she understood that because a lot of women will tell a man, “You can call up someone else to get some,” not knowing the man knows he can get some from someone else but wants some from her.

I made my decision not to take her up on her offer, and told her with no hope it would convince her to change her mind. As I said, she told me the deal from the very beginning and back before I got in four weeks deep, I could have left, but I didn’t. I stayed and got to know this great, great girl. So I was determined to stick it out for as long as I could.

A week later, the two of us argued over something so stupid, so small, it’s going to one day be written about in a separate post, and I left. As it turned out, my “long as I could” had come to an end.