It all started with a kiss. Isn’t that how it always goes? I don’t know, it is in the movies, but my life up to that point had been so far from being movie material that finally feeling like I was in one was a weird thing to experience. The kiss was an unexpected gift. It makes sense in retrospective — the date had been fun and there was definitely chemistry between us — but I never really went for it so it took me by surprise. To be fair, there’s no other way it could have happened. I was scared shitless and all the flirting signs in the world couldn’t have convinced me that the kiss was a safe venture. So after we awkwardly said goodbye, and before going our separate ways, what I went for was a kiss on the cheek. What happened then was one of those lovely little miracles of life. She received my innocent kiss, then tilted her face to meet my mouth with hers. The kiss was sweet and warm, our tongues gently playing with each other in a way that felt natural, almost familiar. It lasted only a few seconds, and when our mouths split apart they each drew an adorable smile. I went up to my apartment that night absolutely euphoric. I remember coming into my room, jumping on the bed, and madly flailing my arms around like I had scored the winning goal in the World Cup final. It might not seem like a big deal to you, but to us that kiss was the beginning of something special — a story where we could finally be the protagonists. ------------------------------- The male co-star of this humble production is James. Yours truly. Not the type of guy you would normally find with the leading role in a romantic comedy — except, perhaps, one of those where you laugh out of sheer embarrassment, like The 40-year-old virgin. James was, indeed, a virgin. A 23-year-old virgin, at that point in time. His virginity was the result of a fair dose of social anxiety, unreasonably high standards, and maybe a bit of bad luck. Oh, and a crippling porn addiction that kept him locked into his room binge-watching porn for hours on end while his friends went outside and mingled with girls. James’ co-star is darling Maribel. Maribel was a 22-year-old girl raised in a strict Catholic family. She was a nice girl, with a certain innocence to her, pretty. She too was a virgin. Contrary to what one might think based on her religious upbringing, her virginity wasn’t planned. She wasn’t saving it for marriage like a good Christian girl — she was ready to lose it. It’s just that, despite having had previous relationships and sexual experiences, she hadn’t found someone she could feel comfortable enough with to go all the way. James and Maribel are the protagonists of our story, and if there’s something that can be said about them both is that they really, desperately needed this. ------------------------------- I met Maribel in a college dorm party. We were both exchange students at the time. I had seen her around before, but I’ve never been the kind to just go ahead and approach a girl, so it wasn’t until we ended up in the same conversation circle that night through mutual friends that I had a chance to talk to her. Our chat went well enough for me to build up the courage and, well, stalk her on Facebook the next day. Bear in mind, by then I had only ever been to one other date with a girl, and it had been a total disaster, so asking Maribel out — even through a cowardly message on social media — was a tremendous step for me to take, and my ecstatic reaction when she took me up on my offer quickly gave way to a sort of nerve-racking anticipatory anxiety. I liked her during that first date we had, but not as much as I liked myself. I felt comfortable, somewhat confident, even a bit flirtatious. I saw a side of me that I didn’t even know existed. The date was going surprisingly well, and not just in my head. She seemed to be into me as well and I was absolutely delighted, even if the way she expressed it included constant references to my zodiac sign (something that would have normally thrown me the hell off). The kiss at the end of the date was a confirmation of all the good signs, but it was way more than that. It felt cathartic. After a whole life of insecurities and fear, that kiss proved that I was capable. That I too could have what others around me had always had. That I was, despite of everything, dating material. Sure, it was just a kiss, but that kiss made me feel normal at last, even if just for a little while. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a meaning behind the kiss that pulled at my heartstrings even harder. Because what that kiss meant was that this one day I had been waiting for all my life, the day where I would finally lose my virginity, was now closer — much closer than it had ever been before. ------------------------------- The day I didn’t lose my virginity started just like any other day. Maribel and I had planned our second date that evening, but I wasn’t really expecting much from it. In my head, it took a few dates to get to sleep with a girl, so when I showed up that day I had all the nerves of a regular date, but none of the crippling stress I would have felt had I known what was to come. Nothing happened during our second date that’s worth noting, but given how it ended, I guess it went pretty well nonetheless. When the date was over, I walked Maribel back to her place, kissed her, and then struggled real hard to believe my ears when they heard her say: "would you like to come up to my place?" I immediately said yes (I was dumbstruck, but not as much as to say anything else) and a turmoil of thoughts took over me from that very moment. I don’t even remember if we were chatting, going up those stairs that led to her place — my mind was elsewhere completely. This was it. Every step was getting me closer to the moment I had anticipated for years, and years, and years... A moment that, until just a few days ago, had seemed almost unreachable. I was on my way to a girl’s apartment to have sex with her. Can you fucking believe that? The mishmash of emotions was hard to decipher. Surprise? No doubt. Excitement? Plenty of that. Terror? Yes, oh dear God yes, and I was about to find out just how very much of it. ------------------------------- Recollecting what happened that night still hits a nerve, I’ve got to admit. The images hit me like flashbacks hit a war veteran with PTSD. I walked into that room nervous as fuck. We started making out, but I wasn’t sure how things were supposed to escalate from there. I only remember that at some point she laid down on her bed and I followed, but when she started to take her clothes off I, for some reason, didn’t. I must be the only guy in history to try to lose his virginity with his jeans on. Throughout the petting session that ensued on that bed, I remained fully dressed. I wore those jeans like a chastity belt. I guess deep inside I felt those clothes were the last frontier, the one obstacle left standing between me and sexual glory and, under such huge pressure, I buckled (no pun intended). I’ll say, to her credit, that she tried to work around it — at least in the beginning. First she jumped on top of me and tried to hump those jeans. Then at some point, she made an attempt to get hold of my dick through the pants, but grabbed one of my pockets instead. Only after a while did she politely ask why the fuck wouldn’t I take my clothes off. I did then — as if all she had needed to do that whole time was ask — but that only took us to an even higher level of embarrassment. Already while making out I had noticed something worrying. Or rather, there was something I had NOT noticed. My penis, buried deep into those pants as it was, seemed pretty unperturbed by all the action going on around it. I remember becoming aware of it and thinking “well, it must be the damn pants, my dick is just too constricted in there to get an erection”. So when Maribel put a stop to the nonsense and invited me to take those jeans off, the show was on. Along with the jeans had gone my only excuse not to be hard. It was now time to demonstrate what I was capable of… and as it turned out, it wasn’t the jeans that was the problem. We tried to bring my penis back to life, with no success. She didn’t have all the right tools, being pretty inexperienced herself, and I couldn’t bring myself to the state of mind that my little fella needed to be relaxed and do its thing. I eventually gave up and we awkwardly transitioned into cuddling, the passion by then completely faded out. We spooned, my flaccid penis resting unoffendingly against her bare butt cheeks, and in such manner we both fell asleep. ------------------------------- When I left her place the next morning, it didn’t look quite like what I had always pictured in my head. Do you know the Evil’s Dance scene from Spider-Man 3? I always thought I would come out of my first night with a girl like Tobey Maguire, dancing my way down the street full of confidence and pointing my finger guns at confused bystanders. Instead, I quietly took a bus home, immersed in conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, it was hard not to see the night as a great achievement. It had been my first sexual experience, after all. My first time seeing a girl naked (in real life, that is). And the first time I was able to enjoy a woman’s body — touching it, exploring it — and have her enjoy my own, instead of imagining how it would all feel while sitting down in front of a screen. On the other hand, it was hard not to see the night as a great disappointment. Not only had I not gone all the way with her, but things had unfolded so horribly that the lingering embarrassment was still painful. A play-by-play recap of the night kept haunting me on the way home, building up my frustration. And yet as burning as this frustration was, in the larger scheme of things I was optimistic. At the end of the day, it had just been a good date with an awkward ending, but we had said goodbye in good terms and she seemed to be excited about meeting up again soon. I was definitely going to have more opportunities, and I was confident a second chance was all I needed to make this right. I was wrong. ------------------------------- The day I did not lose my virginity was only the first of many. In the handful of dates that followed, Maribel and I spent a few nights together but we were never able to make it work. I continued having erection problems, making very little progress and getting nowhere near successful, penetration sex. Weeks after that first night, we each went back to our home country still a virgin. My battle with erectile dysfunction unfortunately dragged on for a few more years, my issues with sex becoming the center of an extremely frustrating dating life, until I was able to put in work and leave them behind with the help of my partner. That first night with Maribel will always feel like a missed opportunity. An opportunity to get my sex life off to a good start by having a first time experience I could always look back on and fondly remember. A chance, as well, to lose my virginity at the same time as a girl I liked, a beautiful occasion that usually presents itself only in your teenage years (by then way behind me). And, of course, a missed opportunity to once and for all get to do what for so long I had only been able to fantasize about — aided by infinite amounts of pornographic images and videos coming in all shapes and forms. I don’t blame porn for what happened that day. It’s now clear to me that the insane expectations that I had built up through the years had resulted in a performance anxiety problem that was pretty much insurmountable. I do, however, blame porn for much of what came afterwards. The extent to which I struggled with sex can only be explained if we take into account much more than just the jitters of an anxious virgin. My erectile dysfunction was just as much, if not more, the result of a lifelong addiction to porn that had accustomed both my mind and my body to a certain, very specific way to get off. You can’t expect to abuse porn for half of your life and not have it wreck havoc on your sex life. The events of that day were my first confrontation with this harsh reality — a reminder that there’s always a price you have to pay for your mistakes. Mine was letting a once in a lifetime opportunity go. Having missed that chance, the true day I would lose my virginity had to wait a while longer — and with it my time to lead the full and sexually active life I had always wanted.
Well... that was interesting to say the least. I'll just assume the names you used were fake ones. Anyway, what you described in such vivid detail is quit normal for so many men in this situation. I've never lost my virginity (never will), but from what I've seen on the sight, it may take up to a year for most men to cure their PIED. Don't feel bad, though. It was a good learning experience, and you were able to use your cautionary tale to warn others.
Sadly you are right that it seems to be very common. But I also agree that these can be good learning experiences. With time, this and other experiences I had later, as awkward and painful as they were, gradually made me feel more and more comfortable with sex.
