“So.  How did you manage that?”

 

 

 

 

I was watching TV Thursday night trying to decide what to write about when I realized that many of my newer readers probably haven’t seen any of my dating posts from the early days of the blog.  Back in the day (late 2009-mid 2010) I blogged about some pretty memorable dates and I figured I would pull one out of the vault, touch it up and share it with you.  Consider it an early Easter gift.  Or Passover, depending on your religious preference. 

I haven’t written about any crazy dating stories in quite a while because I’ve got a rad chick in my life (my Muse) and there aren’t crazy dating stories because she lives 3,000 miles away from my Southern California home.  I hope you enjoy this totally true story about my first date with a 36-year-old virgin.  If you want to read more about her click the links at the bottom of the post.

 

The 36-year-old virgin

She had one of those perma-smiles on her face as she walked into my office for the first time.  We met online and chatted a few times before deciding to go out and this was the night.   As she sat down at my desk I had no clue what a memorable evening it would turn out to be.  Who knew that I would soon receive a slightly racist nickname as well as the shock of my life!

She’s from The O.C. and during one of our phone conversations asked if we could go to Downtown Disney to walk around, talk and grab some dinner.  “Absolutely,” I replied.  “Where would you like to meet?”  She asked if she could meet me at my office, which was halfway between her place and the Happiest Place on Earth.

We climbed into my Xterra, headed towards Anaheim and grabbed a decent parking spot near the entrance to Downtown Disney.  We walked around, bopping in and out of several stores and having typical first date conversation.  After a while we decided it was time for dinner but couldn’t figure out where to go.  There were a myriad of restaurants to choose from and she asked if I minded going to Tortilla Jo’s Cantina.

“Seriously?” I asked.  “Yeah,” she responded.  “Why?”  I was trying to find a nice way to say what I had to say, but there was no way I could so I just blurted it out.  “Well, you’re, uh, Mexican and as a gringo I can say with almost absolute certainty that this place will not have real Mexican food.”

“Oh bolillo,” (pronounced bo-LEE-yoh) she exclaimed.  “I’m here with you and I want you to go Mexican tonight!”  Wow!  My expectations for the night just went way, way up.  She was cute and I’ll admit that I had already wondered what it would be like to “go Mexican” with her.  A couple of times, actually.  But as it was a first date and considering I’m generally a pretty nice guy, I hadn’t put too much thought into it.  Until now.  For the record, “bolillo” means “white bread” in kind of a “yo, crackah” way.

We approached the hostess stand and were seated at a quiet table in the corner.  It was a chilly Southern California fall evening (probably all of 50 degrees) and she wanted to avoid the patio and stay inside where it was “toasty”.  After ordering a pitcher of margaritas we looked over the menu, trying to decide what looked good.  The more I thought about her going Mexican comment the more I decided that she was looking pretty good, but I was still playing it cool and kept my yap shut.

After ordering we munched on chips and salsa and got another pitcher of margaritas while continuing to conversate.  Dinner arrived and I honestly have no clue what was said to get her on this next topic because neither sex nor anything sexual was ever brought up.   Right after I put a bite of chile relleno in my mouth, as if on cue, my date very casually mentioned that she was a virgin.

I somehow swallowed my food without choking, looked up and said, “No shit?”  She looked a bit surprised at my response.  I apologized and said, “Let me rephrase that.  Seriously?”  “Of course,” she said with a giggle.  “I told you that I was never married.”

I’m far from a prude, but neither am I a man whore and I was more than a bit shocked at this revelation.  I looked over at her with bewilderment and took a long drink of my margarita.  Actually I drained the glass and was pouring another as I asked, “So.  How did you manage that?”

The Virgin went on to explain that she had never been married, had been in only one serious relationship and that she was Catholic which meant that she knew it was a sin to have sexual relations outside of marriage.  I tried my best not to laugh out loud and as I tried to suppress my laughter she asked what was so funny.  I told her not to take my question the wrong way, but asked if she knew the reputation that Catholic schoolgirls have.  The Virgin told me she had heard that some “engage in relations” before they’re married but didn’t know they had a reputation.

“Some engage in relations?”  I asked, completely surprised by her answer.  “I went to school near St. Josephs and we used to call them The Ho’s from St. Joes.”  I know that I’m gonna sound like an ass when I say this, but the next thing that went through my mind was, “I guess I’m not going Mexican tonight.”

Somehow we managed to change topics and finish our meal.  After dinner we walked around a bit more, grabbed some coffee and dessert and found a bench with a good view of the Disneyland fireworks.  I was planning my next move when the Virgin reached over and took my hand.  As she did I looked over and saw that perma-smile still on her face.  I smiled back and after the fireworks were over we walked hand in hand back to my car.  I gave her a kiss on the cheek as we departed the parking lot and we decided to go out again a couple nights later.

Back at my office I watched her climb into her Mustang and as I drove home had a hard time coming to terms with this new reality.  I knew that statistically there had to be at least a handful of 36-year-old virgins in Southern California, but I never expected one to be cute.  Or that I would end up on a date with one of them.  I thought about e-mailing Match.com and suggesting they add a box on their profiles for “VIRGIN” but figured it would make me seem like a douche.

After arriving home I jumped online, checked a few e-mails and saw that my friend “The Kings Fan” was online.  I shared my amazing tale with my friend and he quickly responded in typical dude fashion.  “No shit?”  He asked.  “So…you gonna try and tap it?”

Want to know what happened next?  Check out the links below.

 

 

 Arriving tomorrow: Granny Spam

 

Skiing with The 36-Year-Old-Virgin

Happy birthday 36-Year-Old Virgin

The 37-Year-Old Virgin

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