Misadventures in Sexual Curiosity: The Virgin

College is a breeding ground for mono, Ramen-based diets and bad choices.  If you don’t have a memory from college that instantly causes a face-palm reaction, then go sign up for another worthless major right now.  I could fill a keg with my bad choices, so instead of delving into my current adventures, I’m going to tell you one of my unfortunate college sex stories.

The Virgin

After a party I held at my slummy, student-housing apartment, when everyone else stumbled home at the wee hours of the morning as if they were vampires beating the sun, one dude stayed behind.

I had no previous interest in this guy; he was not a repulsive fellow, just not on my radar.  But he wanted to have a cigarette, so we sat outside my apartment on the park bench I had stolen earlier in the year.  I didn’t steal it from a park, don’t worry, I’m not that kind of asshole.  He leaned over to me and said, “I think you’re pretty hot.  You wanna do something about that?”  Now after a smooth pick-up line like that I should have just laughed in his face, locked him out of my apartment and tweeted it to the world.  However, in all my infinite wisdom, I instead shrugged and uttered, “Sure, I guess.”

We went back to my bedroom and things started progressing rather nicely, clothing was removed, body parts were touching, Marvin Gaye music played in my head, and then this dude decides to inform me, “Um, just so you know … I’m a virgin.”

Record screech.

I’d been with enough virgins to know that I was not getting any sexual healing that night.  And, sure enough, he couldn’t keep it up while putting on the condom with his shaky, virginy hands.  (Bit of advice to all you virgin gentlemen who are for some reason reading this article: masturbate with a condom on.  It’s good practice.)

So I sent him on his way, not wanting to be the Lewis and Clark to his uncharted territory.

The Second Chance

Weeks later, I was having a rather horrible evening and found myself sitting alone in my mold-infested apartment feeling like that smelly, pimply-faced kid on prom night.  Instead of moping around like Eeyore after watching Schindler’s List, I decided to make my night interesting.

I call up The Virgin.

I tell The Virgin, “I’m having a shitty night and I’m in a terrible mood, but if you can turn me on, I’ll have sex with you.”  The dude rose to the challenge, takes me down to the music school and proceeds to play the piano and sing to me.

This works.

We go back to my place and pick up where we left off the last time.  Same problem.  The dude can’t keep it up.  Feeling a little like Sisyphus, I try everything in the book, but nothing works.  Then he asks, “This might be weird, but could you maybe try sneezing?”  Yes, you read that right.  Sneezing!  That’s not your garden-variety weird fetish.  That’s the kind of fetish they DON’T have porn for on the internet.  (They actually do, but it’s rare, and mainly just mocked.)

My friend has this theory that people sneeze like they orgasm.  I don’t agree, but it crosses my mind and I think, “Maybe this dude hasn’t seen a lot of ‘normal’ porn and is actually attracted to orgasm sounds.”  So, I make a few orgasm sounds.  Nothing.

Achooooo!

Straight up!  Ready to go!  Direct Correlation!

I had to keep sneezing the whole time just to keep him going.  I even started doing this hybrid sneeze/orgasm sound, just to give myself some semblance of reality.

He didn’t last long, and thank God, because I was running out of saliva.  Afterwards, he laid back and lit up a cigarette as if he were Hank Moody or something.  I took a shower and questioned every life decision that had led me to this point.  Then I proceeded to send The (now not) Virgin on his way.

The (No-Longer) Virgin Returns

Now, if the story ended there, that would be one thing.  But it doesn’t.  After this ill-fated hook-up, I started dating another dude.  We dated for about three years and then broke up.  Two days after our breakup went live on Facebook, “The Virgin” messaged me with this:

I, for the life of me, could not think of something brilliant enough to respond to this, but a few hours later, he followed up his brilliance with this little nugget:

Wow.  Just Wow.  Still speechless.  I mean, really, there is no response to the misguided, ill-conceived, bewildering logic that must go on in this man’s brain.

So, there is really nothing more left to say, other than this tid-bit of advice:  Don’t fuck virgins, even if they sing well.