I was speechless. I was without speech. And after silently considering several improper responses to this confession I think I uttered something brilliantly succinct like “OK…” I smiled in an understanding way although I was miles away from anything resembling that emotion. Besides the next words out of my mouth would have been “Are you hiding a skirt somewhere in your jeans? Aren’t you late to a tea party? I’d hate to ruin the reputation of such a delicate flower so I’ll take my leave. What is your problem, buddy?!” or something along those lines. But somehow, I didn’t have the heart to say any of these things.
As I walked away all I could think was: What has happened to men? How did we switch roles with them? Wasn’t I the one who should have been concerned about my virtue? My feelings? Stating my need for commitment before consummation? If this had been an isolated incident I’d check it off as a fluke. But it’s not and I can’t. Because this is not the first time a man who seemed like a promising one-night-stander has whimped out. There have been a couple of other instances where this very same scenario has played itself out and it is not only disturbing but highly confusing as well. And I have to wonder: am I alone in this or are others of my ilk treading water in the same lake as I?
At any rate now I find myself in an untenable position: a born again virgin and not by choice. There was a time when this virginal status was OK; like when I was fifteen and didn’t know what I was missing. But I’m older now and I do know what I’m missing. And it is tough out there. Especially because, I see married people. Everywhere.