It Happened to Me: I Married A Virgin

By the time I met my husband, I was one bad experience away from committing to a convent. Therefore, his admission that he was waiting until marriage to have sex was odd, but refreshing for me.

Aug 9, 2012 at 3:00pm | Leave a comment

image

Nothing was happening in this bed but sleep and silly self-pics with my front-facing camera.

I knew he was a virgin on our second date. It was something about the way he hugged me. Well, that and the fact that it was date number two and he hadn’t tried to undress me yet.

Granted, that says less about his chastity and more about the sex addicts I’d “dated” in the past, still it was a dead giveaway.

How long would you wait to ask a guy if he's a virgin? I waited until our third date to bring it up. We were at an amusement park standing in a long line for a roller coaster when I asked him point-blank “Are you a virgin?” No context. Nothing to set him up or let him down. I didn’t even lower my voice in respect of the strangers around us.

When he said yes, I asked what everyone asks as though the definition somehow changed: “You’ve never had sex with anyone ever? Not even once?” To my surprise, he merited that with a response: “Nope.”

That was so unbelievable to me and also very cool. I wasn’t exactly the Virgin Mary, but I could count my sex partners on one hand. Probably because my experiences with sex had been lackluster at best.

In eighth grade, my first real experience with sex was when my boyfriend assumed we’d have it. At 13? No thanks. I told him he was free to tell his friends that we did, though, and he exercised that option. By my senior year of high school, I’d been dumped by two different guys for declining sex.

When I did finally do it, it hurt like hell and was the longest three minutes of my entire life. What an epic waste of time. To make it worse, my boyfriend who was so “in love” with me ended up having sex with another girl at our school -- which I found out after snooping through his AOL mail account. After that, I swore off sex for four years.

I broke my pact in a friends-with-benefits situation. We were not friends and I did not benefit. Turned out that he had a baby on the way by his ex-girlfriend. She was eight months pregnant, yet I was the one who ended up vomiting in the bathroom stall.

The final straw was the guy who pursued my panties so hard, I had to check to see if I was hiding diamonds down there. In a moment of weakness, I gave in. Like a bad romantic comedy, I was hooked on him after that and he ended up being the worst person I ever met. When our “relationship” was said and done, I only thanked God I didn’t end up pregnant with his ugly babies.

By the time I met my husband, I was one bad experience away from committing to a convent. Therefore, his admission that he was waiting until marriage to have sex was odd, but refreshing for me. I didn’t think he and I would get married, but I was just glad to be dating someone without the pressure to knock boots. Who knew that a man’s celibacy agreement was the trick to keeping my own?

When we got engaged and people invariably found out we weren’t having sex and that we weren’t going to do it until after the wedding, shock, awe and horror ensued. I realized that pretty much every couple is having sex, especially engaged couples. It was old-fashioned enough to some people that we weren’t living together, but to not test the goods before committing to him for life was downright ancient thinking.

I was fine with the set-up, though. In fact, I thought it added a different element to our relationship. There’s something to be said for anticipation.  I’m not one for patience, but I liked the idea of delayed gratification (especially considering my experience with instant gratification that wasn’t gratifying at all). Some days were harder than others -- pun fully intended. 

Though I was confident in my decision, others insisted on ramping up anxiety by asking me if I’d considered all of the dreadful things that can happen when you marry a virgin.

One of my friends, thoroughly horrified, said, “What if he doesn’t know where to put it?” As though there are a million and one places to choose from and I’d be lying there paralyzed and unable to guide if necessary.

Others asked, “What if he doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

To which I calmly replied, “Who really does?”

The thing about sex is that you have to practice to get it right. No matter how much experience a couple brings to the bed, they still have to learn each other.  

“What if he comes in like four seconds?” was another concerned inquiry. I had considered that risk but decided that we’d have sex more than one time in our lives. One premature ejaculation is not grounds for divorce.

It’s been about six months since our wedding and I'm still trying to find a T-shirt that says "I survived marrying a virgin." Seriously, all of that concern was for naught. He knew where to put it, how to do it and didn’t come in four seconds. I’d say that’s not just survival, it’s success.

Women with virgin men everywhere have hope! 

Unless, of course, you have a horror story to tell. I’m assuming there are people who also married virgins (or at least had sex with one) and it was the worst experience of their lives. I don’t know any of these people so if you’re one, please tell me in the comments!