The life of a virgin is difficult and complicated, and the older that you get, the harder it is to explain to people why you have in fact still not had sexual intercourse. I’m not really sure what explanation there is for the whole debacle. You don’t want to be the virgin that goes around and tells people oh yeah, I’ve had the opportunity, but I’ve just decided not to because then everyone will just think that you’re the guy that makes up stuff to carry on an image. In contrast, you don’t want to be the guy that says that you’ve never had the opportunity because that’s just… unfortunate. No one finds religious reasons nearly as charming as they used to be unless you’re Mormon or Catholic, and I was raised Baptist; as everyone knows, Baptists do it in the youth group room at an early age, so I really have no backing here. In response, I just tried my best never to draw attention to the subject. However, sometimes, you just get cornered.
My dad has regularly asked me if I’m still a virgin since I was probably sixteen years old. At times, the question has been a little more than intimidating. For years, I would proudly say yes and use my moral background as a guidepost for my answer, but as the years progressed, I began to feel less comfortable about telling him that I was a virgin. Like most families, when the situation becomes uncomfortable you either avoid it completely, or lie. In this case, I chose the latter. My freshman year, I decided that it was time to lose my fake virginity. Sometimes I wonder if losing my real virginity will be as heartbreaking and emotionally trying as losing my fake virginity. Telling my dad about my not-so-real sexual encounter was nothing like I’d hoped it would be. The story didn’t have candles or soft music, and we definitely were not in love. I always though it would be special, losing my fake virginity, but it wasn’t. I’m pretty sure it happened in my dorm room, and when he finally asked who it was with, I froze.
Nam Dang. I had sex with Nam Dang.
Dad had met Nam before, and honestly, I don’t think he believed me from the moment I said it. Nam is one of my very best friends and kind of hot to top it off. She was a solid choice, but possibly an unrealistic one. Nevertheless, I lost my virginity to Nam, and it was quite a story to tell. I promised myself that he would be the only person I would tell that Nam and I had sex, but like most of the promises I make in my head (I will go to the gym 4 days a week, I will never eat sushi again, I will never drink again; I will not call that person just to make out), I kind of lied.
I never expected to be in a fraternity in college, and when I say that, I’m not talking about the all too infamous Jappa Kappa mentioned in “The Juicy Details of Being in a Greek Organization.” No, in contrast, I’m talking about my decision to join Delta Kappa Epsilon. I entered into this Greek collegiate contract knowing that it was against school rules and that I would have to live in stark secrecy, which wasn’t too far of a stretch from the lie I had told about Nam. Most people would say that the most difficult part of being in a fraternity is joining it, or “the pledge process.” In contrast, I found that the most difficult part of being in a fraternity is by far keeping the conversation going. During one of our cabin retreats, I was out on the deck enjoying a nice cup of whatever mixture of gatorade and grain alcohol was sitting in the kitchen when one of the brothers asked me, So, dude. If you could f–k any girl at school, would would it be. What a tricky, tricky question I had literally never given any specific thought to. The answer given could have major ramifications. Abby Ogle was always who I considered the prettiest girl I had met in college, but for some reason, Abby and this young man’s coarse terminology didn’t match up in my head.
More brothers began to gather, begging for my answer, and I began to feel cornered. It was just like middle school all over when it just came out. “Nam. Nam Dang.” I would get a deck-full of approving head nods as they all exchanged glances with one another, acknowledging my fine taste in Asian women. He responded So, you ever get that p–sy? Let’s make a bulleted list. I like those.
- A) That’s a nasty, nasty word. I hate that word.
- B) I really thought people only talked like that in movies. Movies that starred Jonah Hill that I would never purposefully see.
- C) Just in case I didn’t say it explicitly enough, I’m sorry, Nam.
So there it was. The moment of truth. Actually, I’d just rather not talk about it. The approving head nods were gone. I was just stuck there in fraternal judgment. Kirkland, are you a virgin, bro? I could hear the snide remarks under the breath, the giggles. I had to say it; I had no choice. Well, in fact, I lost my virginity to Nam. There was a roaring sound of “ohhhhhhhhh” across the back deck of the cabin, and then someone went and fetched me a beer. They were proud; I think. I would later stand on a toilet in the bathroom holding my phone up in a corner just long enough to get signal and explain to Nam via text what had happened. I was out of control. It was all so out of control.
Much like the conversation with my dad, I’m fairly confident no one believed the story once the alcohol had subsided. We’ve all graduated now, and too many people have gotten pregnant or married to have any inkling of the one (or several) times that I alluded (or boldly stated) that Nam and I had pseudo (or just fake) intercourse. In terms of my impending virginity, I don’t think it’s really something to worry about. I’ve chosen the graduated step plan, just like the one I’ve chosen to pay off my student loans. The way it works is that you start with the lower payment and work your way up to the really intense payments that will screw you hard one day. See what I did there? I compared student loans to sex; isn’t that grand?
It’s been a while since I’ve used Nam as my proxy sex partner or anything close to it. The only time it’s come up lately is when the people at my country diner job asked me if I had a girlfriend. I immediately mentioned Nam’s name and all my virgin guilt came rising to the surface again. You see though, in Seymour if you don’t have a girlfriend or wife, you’re either worthless, homosexual, or a worthless homosexual. Nam has always been my defender against the ways of narrow minded or overly horny people. I hope one day to return that favor even though I have absolutely no idea how to do so. I look forward to the days when there actually is a legitimate name to throw down when people ask me who I’ve had sex with; that special someone hasn’t quite surfaced yet. But, if anyone asks, just tell them Nam… even if she does get mad, I have a solid two hour jump on her to get the hell out of dodge.