Virgins From Hell 2: Electric Boogaloo*

Friday, 2:43pm, Excerpt

...
JJ: i actually lost a few hundred and was depressed in ac and decided to call her at like 3am
JJ: she didn't return the call b/c we were hardcore for awhile
Queen Vee: she was on another booty call.
JJ: haha maybe. but we kept each other around for awhile b/c of the sex
JJ: the best is she came to nyu and i went out with a bunch of friends
and then this other girl i was banging showed up at the bar. I had to sneek Vicki out
Queen Vee: you are such a player
JJ: no no. it was all college. man, i miss those days
...

I usually log off before he can ask me about one of my sexual exploits. He would wet himself the second he found out I haven't had any. check that, he'd have his pants around his ankles asking if he could be my first. Nothing like having a younger guy friend tell you stories about how dumb and slutty his ex-girlfriend was. The more I hear, the more likely I am to become one of these:


*Starring Queen Vee!
HA!!

I, Virgin, Do Thee Wed

Well...the wedding I didn't want to attend happened last week, thus my lack of weekly wanking about virginity, and now I probably have enough for a book. Heh heh. But I'll try to make a long story short because I don't even want to write it all, let alone read it.

So it begins with my mother calling to tell me that L broke up with her boyfriend. Forgive me if I'm repeating myself...I said, "so...?" I knew exactly where she was going but I wanted to hear her say it. She says, "So that means she won't have a date for the wedding." "And that affects me how?" "I'm just saying..." "Mmmhmm."

Oh mom. I know she only wants me to feel better, but having another single girl there really doesn't change my situation or how I feel about it. Anyway, come to find out 5 minutes after arriving that her sister A just broke up with her boyfriend and was there alone- L was already on to her next boyfriend who stood within 2 feet of her all evening. Zing!

The wedding itself was fine, pretty traditional (aside from the non-church ceremony both parents were furious about) but nice to catch up with some childhood friends I haven't seen in a while. Only once the entire evening was I asked the question I hate:

Auntie M: So where is your escort?
Auntie M's Daughter, sitting beside her boyfriend: MOM!
QV: Eh, there was no one suitable enough...
Auntie M: See? No one suitable enough.

And then she moved on to wherever she was headed. I was surprised not more of my parents' friends asked, but I think because my parents are no longer up here that they were more interested in talking to them than to me for once.

Both A and L are strikingly pretty, at least I think so. I mean, no one can deny they are pretty but every time I see them, usually after a few years have passed, I am reminded just how beautiful they are. Like me, their father is not American which attributes to their exotic features. Anyway, the point of this is a ridiculous one but I'm going to make it anyway because like every woman I have days of low esteem and this made me feel better.

After the wedding my mother and I talked about how everyone looked, and I said how pretty those two in particular looked. She said, as every mother is required to say:

Mom: You were prettier.
QV: Thanks mom, I relieve you of your duty now.
Mom: Everyone else said so too.
QV: Oh? And just who is this everyone you speak of?
Mom: Four people told me! Auntie M, Auntie E, Auntie J and...Uncle D. (All my parents friends are aunties and uncles.) I didn't hear any of them tell Auntie N (A and L's mom) that.
QV: You are too much. What, did you attach yourself to Auntie N's ass all night listening?
Mom: I'm not lying.

As utterly juvenile as it is, there's something to be said for hearing about how pretty you are when you've been standing next to two of the prettiest girls you know all night.

Ok last story. In the car home I also learned some things that were none of my business, but the groom's mother has no filter on what should and should not be shared so I found out. She told my mother pretty much every last detail about her son's personal life along with all the wedding details, which my mom went on to share with me. I doubt my mother would have said anything if I hadn't started the conversation, but whatever. It really was innocently started. Before the wedding I remembered her telling me that they lived together. When I talked to the groom at the wedding I caught up on the details. It was one of those things where telling me something fit whatever point she was trying make even though it wasn't true, and when I called her on it later she would deny ever saying it.

QV: You know, they don't live together.
Mom: I know. He's there now and she's moving in after.
Then it transitioned but for the life of me I can't remember how.
Mom: Auntie D told me everything. About the wedding, about the bride's father...they're waiting until they're married.
QV: (utter disbelief) What.
Mom: That's what they told her. They're waiting until they're married.
QV: No way. That's bull.
Mom: That's what she said they told her.
QV: I don't believe it.

But I kinda do. I can't imagine why they would wait, they've been together for like six years, but there is something that rings true about it. He would have no cause to tell his mother anything, let alone that he was waiting because he told her to mind her business when she tried to involve herself in the wedding plans. I spent a lot of time growing up in that house and communication about things like that was so not part of the scene. I can't imagine he was trying to make her happy by telling her that. I also just can't imagine them having this or any other conversation like it to begin with so what do I know. Maybe he really is just a good little Catholic boy (who for some reason didn't want a Catholic ceremony...).

I almost said, well I'm not waiting! at the end of that exchange but A) none of my parents' business and B) I think my dad might have had a heart attack. Not because I'm planning on having sex before marriage, but because I'm so adamant about it. Though knowing my dad, he may believe I've already slept with someone. I mean, I always picture him as the naive father who believes his daughter is a princess, but he's the one who surprised me by thinking I had started drinking before I actually had. So why should this be any different? Course, God doesn't have anything to say about drinking whereas sex is a different story. And I'm sure he's also thinking, she's almost 30. She's had to have it by now.

Uh.

Anyway, my point with this whole damn post is that for once I was not the only virgin in the room. Yay me!

Course, 12 hours later the title would again be mine. Perhaps 24 if they were tired from dancing and drinking all night.

"Why Did You Spread Those Vicious Lies?"

"Cuz you didn't spread those vicious thighs."
-Strangers With Candy, "The Virgin Jerri"

I had a dream a few nights ago that I was pregnant, 9 months from the size of me. Then like a movie scene, it cut to me holding the baby in my arms as it gazed up into my eyes. Freaky thing was, the baby looked exactly like I did when I was about 2 years old. Suddenly it hit me that I had to go to work and had no where to leave her, so I brought her with me. At the end of the day I looked around but couldn't remember where she was. Then I realized she was already in the van, ready to go home. I got in and turned away for a moment, and when I looked back she was gone. I started crying and yelling that someone had kidnapped her. I woke up with tear filled eyes.

Becoming pregnant is a gigantic fear of mine. Well, one among the many obviously, but it's pretty loomy sometimes. It's just one of those things that is stuck in the recesses of my brain and no matter how hard I prove it (with known facts and statistics) to be a ridiculous fear, it remains heavy and foreboding. Hello, birth control! condoms! what have you! I still believe that I will get pregnant despite it all. The fact that the percentage is minute and usually due to user error, that's enough for me. And I can't handle it. I can't handle the thought let alone the actuality. (This is all assuming I'd have to do it alone because the guy I chose to have sex with will not be interested in sticking around.)

It's like...a phobia. I'm sure there's a name for it. There's a name for every fear out there....

Sweet sassy there is. It's called Tocophobia. Though, that's more the fear of actually being pregnant. My fear is more, how can I care for a kid if I can't even handle myself? Let's see if there's a name for that...Automatonophobia- fear of ventriloquist dummies, Consecotaleophobia- Fear of chopsticks, Mycrophobia- Fear of small things, Novercaphobia- Fear of your step-mother, Phronemophobia- Fear of thinking (for real?).

Possibilities: Pedophobia- Fear of children, Genophobia- Fear of sex, Hominophobia- Fear of men...

The closest I can find is Atychiphobia- Fear of failure. And I guess getting pregnant before I'm ready would be a huge failure for me because I wouldn't know what to do except crawl back to mom in the hopes that she'd help. Maybe it's another control issue, as in looking back on my life I've always had some kind of control over what was next. Am I still so much a child myself? How can that be? Or is it because I don't want to do it alone? I want to give my child what my parents gave me? A happy childhood, albeit an over-protected one? One in which once grown they can say, "Mom, you f**ed me up in your own way but I'm still a good person and I love you?" At any rate it's something I can't provide because I have way too many non-happy-wtf days myself, lost in thought as to why the girl who is caring for me is doing such a sh*tty job.

Where was I going with this? Oh right, reason number 13,240 why I haven't had sex yet.

Maybe if I actually starting taking birth control I might feel differently. And maybe I'll get a lobotomy and won't feel anything at all. And maybe, just maybe, fate really does exist and will intervene at any moment. Like now.

Or now.

Or how 'bout now?

Ah screw it. Who wants an absolute neurotic virgin girlfriend who has trust issues?

Now don't crowd me boys. If you've had a vasectomy (and put some swimmers on ice) I might even look in your direction twice.

I Suspect My Expectations

"Hold me as long my body's shaking
Hold me as long I'm anticipating
Hold me as long your woman's waiting
Don't be shy I'm inviting you, I'm inviting you
So lay your hands your hands on me"
-Beth Hart

This song makes me want strip off my clothes. If you are in the need of a soulful rock and blues voice, you must check out Beth Hart. She will rock you inside out.

I've come to the (brilliant) conclusion that I will never be able to ask someone to lay their hands on me if I never knowingly risk disappointment. It sounds odd...like I should have said hurt. Maybe I mean both. I don't know. But I realize that I've been living under the "no expectations, no disappointments" rule, and it extends far beyond what it should.

I had a performance of a kind a few weeks ago and I was genuinely surprised by the number of my friends who actually showed up. There were a few I allowed myself to expect to be there, safe in the assumption that I would not be disappointed, but most I had already made excuses for because I knew they had other engagements, early mornings, etc. I think I could go so far as to say I felt honored...yes I know it's dramatic and most likely just my overblown sensitivity acting up, but I was thrilled to have them all there, and all there for me.

So am I underestimating my own value in their lives or am I underestimating their abilities as good friends who would of course come out to support me?

I don't want to play victim and cry about how many times I've been disappointed in (hurt by?) people, because in reality I've only been burned a few times. Granted Jean is an extreme case, she was not the first, nor the last I imagine though apparently I'm doing my best to try to make it so. Oh, too late. And I do still have people in my life who I love but who I can actually now predict when they will disappoint me. I'm doing my best to keep the expectation low and accept them for who they are, forgetting things that are important to me a part of it, because I know everyone has their own issues and I am far, far, far from perfect. I can always tell when I begin to expect because it stings.

When friends of friends or acquaintances ask something of me this rule comes in handy because I know if the situation was reversed I would most likely end up on the losing side. Perhaps that's a dark view of people but I've experienced just enough to know it's true. I would give my good friends the shirt off my back, but anyone else would just get a sideways glance and I don't feel guilty because I can say if I was on fire they wouldn't stop to piss on me. Part of this, and this is going to sound completely backward, is that I trust too easily. I always want to believe the best in people, despite all the cynicism I just spewed, or that at the very least they are not out only for themselves. So I don't usually let people in and end up trusting them to my own detriment. But then again, what about all the suspicion I've blubbered about being a part of the reason I can't meet anyone?

(shrug) You got me. I want to believe the best in people and am extremely suspicious of them at the same time. How f**ed is that?

If I'm honest I can make the distinction. New people I meet who are going to be part of my life through necessity, whether it be at work or socially, I need to believe that in their dealings with me they would only treat me with the same courtesy I give them, the Golden Rule so to speak- (i.e., there was no reason for my old boss to be condescending or withholding of opportunity because I had done nothing to her, and yet she was.) There's where the expectation usually gets me in trouble. New people can be men or women, and I've been right and wrong about them. And it has nothing to do with judging character...or maybe in trying not to judge it does.

New people I meet who seem to want to be a part of my life, that is express interest, I am extremely suspicious of because I know it's only a matter of time before they'll want something from me. These new people are usually men. Surprise! (Though not that many have tried.) Whether it be 2 minutes or 2 years, it's just so easy for me to judge their motives as being shallow or selfish. (That sounds awfully harsh, but if you haven't noticed I have some issues with sex.) Sad isn't it?

So basically I want to believe the good in everyone but am fully aware of how naive that is. All the while I'm doing my best to keep from falling into the trap by suspecting everyone (except friends with whom I apparently have varying degrees of expectation), I still end up falling into it and being disappointed. (Hurt! Who am I fooling?) But that's life right? The only thing I'm doing is walking into the traps blindfolded, so why don't I do it why my eyes open? Maybe it'd be easier to deal with after a while? I'm still a sensitive sap, but the disappointment doesn't hurt like it used to (which actually may or may not be a good thing. Am I numbing myself in the process?)

I'm just saying, an off switch placed somewhere behind my left ear would do me wonders.

Predicting The Past

I wonder what it would have been like for me if I had been of marrying age in the fifties. I'd probably be married to D with two or three kids by now. At least, I'd like to think since he's the only one I liked at the same time he liked me. Not that I would know but I feel like that may have been enough for a lot of people back then.

At any rate, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore.

Isn't it ironic?

Eyes On The Prize

So it was only a matter of time before I got around to blogging about that 29 year old virgin all over Jane magazine's website. I am still trying to formulate an opinion about the whole charade. To be fair I haven't read through everything...I only made it through a couple he said/she said blogposts about the dates before becoming dangerously close to shooting myself.

I mean, in terms of meeting men it's a brilliant scheme. Get a couple hundred people to send in potentials, have a magazine screen out the obvious mental cases and pay for every date, then have the reading public vote on which guy you should go out with...Voila! There's no work required of her in finding suitable men to get to know in 5 hours or less. Plus absolutely no pressure because she has a new date tomorrow night. No guilt for hurt feelings because all the Jane readers and others drawn to the ridiculousness will be in on it. He's just a fool if he thinks he'll get away unscathed for admitting he feels there's a "connection" and she doesn't.

On the other hand...ew. Does she honestly think she's going to find a guy she "connects" with when the first person every date meets is a 'handler' (fancy word for production assistant of a just graduated college and this is their first paying job kind) who sticks a mic pack down his pants and leads him to a specified place of meeting? Oh they are all so honest in their blogs about how the people swarming around them listening to every word is only slightly distracting, but after a while it's fine and they can't wait to go out with her again to really get to know her.

Vomitous.

It's the bachelor(ette) all over again, only it's about her being a virgin rather than her need to get married because she's in her late twenties, single and childless. Which put in those terms actually kind of makes it acceptable. Here's to hoping she's only in it for the sex. I will laugh my ass off if the payoff post reads:

"Chad was so charming and cute! We hit it off immediately and the connection was hot! After our dinner at Nobu which we could barely get through without touching one another, we cabbed it back to my apartment where I threw him down and made him make a woman of me. Three times! Thanks Jane! I never thought I'd finally find my fuckbuddy!"

Two months and counting...

The Devil's Premarital Playground

My parents raised me Catholic. Or rather, my father did as my mother never attended services. Every Sunday up through college I went to either church or CCD, which I cannot for the life of me remember what it stands for other than Sunday school. When I got a little older they moved CCD to a weekday evening, probably just to inconvenience the parents who had to chauffer their kids everywhere. There are exactly three things I remember about my nine years of actual lessons, where I allegedly learned about God.

1. An African American teacher I had who had a voice like Maya Angelou, fluid and passionate and full of warmth. What she taught though, I haven't a clue.

2. After our hour was up when I was really young they would lead us to the cafeteria where we would meet up with our parents and eat cookies.

3. An awkward bow legged teacher whose toes pointed inward when he walked. Out of all the classes I attended, there is one specific class of his that I will never forget. He said, "Ok we're going to play a game, everyone stand up. If you believe premarital sex is ok go to that side of the room. If you don't then stay over here."

Being all of about ten years old, I wasn't exactly sure what premarital sex was. I'd never heard the word premarital. I slowly inched my way over to the ok side since that's where most of the kids were headed, and sidled up to someone I knew. I asked in a whisper what premarital meant and she shrugged. When all was said and done, three quarters of the class of ten year olds apparently thought the sins of the flesh before marriage was just fine.

When he finally said, probably a little shocked, "You all believe it's ok to have sex before you are married?" I was relieved that I had picked the side I really did believe in. I obviously didn't know that much about sex, but it never occurred to me that it was wrong. Perhaps I missed all those sermons. I'm sure we received a stern lecture thereafter about how it was absolutely evil and sinful but like all things forgettable I forget.

What I do remember is that religion was never part of sex for me. I'm not saving myself for anyone. I've just gotten so good at being uncomfortable around men it's easier to avoid getting into a potential sexual situation. I guess I need someone who's willing to keep trying. I know, who has that kind of energy? All I can do is hope someone does. Won't the reward be all the sweeter? For us both?

Who Would I "Do"?

I was fifteen the first time another girl hit on me. One summer evening at sleep away camp (don't they all begin like that?), my fellow campers and I slowly made our way to the communal bunk house. As we sat around chatting an older girl looked at me and said point blank, "Are you a lesbian?" I was caught off guard but collected myself enough to shake my head no. She shook her head and said loudly, "Why are all the cute ones straight?"

I have to admit, I did wonder there for a little while about my sexuality. I've never actually been attracted to a woman, but then again, I've only been attracted to a small number of men. In playing the 'what celebrity would you do' game there are always one or two beautiful women on the list along with all the beautiful men. Fantasizing about (celebrity) men and women were equal for a while, until I actually kissed a few guys and felt the sexual energy of it.

It's pretty easy to fantasize about something I have no fear of ever actually experiencing. I mean, if Vanessa Marcil came up to me and said 'let's get busy', I'd probably respond with 'um...maybe later. I have a stomach ache' and run out of the room even though she's absolutely gorgeous. However, if D said it with the promise that he wouldn't want to marry me I'd give him a strip tease to start us off.

Now the fantasies mostly involve males. And mostly D since I've apparently convinced myself that I'm comfortable with him. When it comes down to it (in academic terms since they are the only ones I know) they're still due to my childlike curiosity about physical pleasure, something I am old enough to know can be satisfied by a number of things. Because I have so little experience, all I can do is wonder.

Now before everyone starts with, you have lesbian fantasies? Get over yourself, you're gay, let me say this: no matter what your sexual orientation, if you haven't at least thought about it you're probably not human. Especially in today's sex sells culture. If you define homosexuality as simply intercourse with the same sex, then anyone who has had a homosexual experience (or mere thought) is gay in your book. If you include love, passion, understanding and promise in relation to intercourse between members of the same sex, well then you're defining homosexuality as a fulfilling relationship between two humans, just as heterosexuality is always assumed to be. You're also a liberal commie like me who wants everyone to be treated the same. But I digress.

Anyway, here's where I introduce the love element. Though I have not experienced romantic love with a male, I know I will. With a female? I have not, nor do I think I will ever.

As I've said before, many people ask when they hear the Jean story if she was in love with me. After we stopped speaking I found out through a friend that she, for whatever reason, admitted to having sex dreams about me. It struck me as rather funny that even though I loved her as my best friend and was forever hanging on her like a monkey, the thought of sex with her never crossed my mind. Maybe she treated me like shit because she was walking around with a perpetual case of blue balls. Ha!

A very close friend of mine who helped me deal with rebuilding myself after Jean, came out to me around the same time. I provided support for her as well and we created a pretty deep bond. Being of a more introverted type, it was only a matter of time before I started to feel a little suffocated by all her praise and support and needed time to myself. Then one day we had the conversation in which she beat around the bush for a while before saying, 'don't make me say it'. She was in love with me. I wanted to so badly to return the type of love she wanted but couldn't. She meant everything to me and I loved her as a friend, but faced with the prospect of sex with her? I knew right then that I could never with her or any other female. It made me incredibly sad and I pulled as far away from her as possible. Famous for shutting down others out, I was true to my reputation.

A year later we were able to re-establish a friendship because the bond we created was so strong. She told me that she mistook what she felt for me as love but was really more of a doctor patient thing where her devotion was due to the fact that I was the first person who had ever fully accepted her as she was. All this was realized after she met her first real love that is. I realized it after we stopped communicating and had had a chance to analyze our friendship.

And so there it is.

What people who know me know- I listen to a lot of female singer songwriters who happen to be lesbians. I am a feminist. I wear big black boots 9 months out of the year. I am mysterious about my sex life.

What anyone who reads this knows- I have the occasional fantasy about women. I am a virgin. I harp on old shit. And what I really want (when not wanting to be left alone) is a man to be part of an equal loving relationship with me...and of course sex me up until my eyeballs roll back.

Perhaps I'm sending mixed messages?