The Virgin Diaries

Entry Eight: Thankful for…

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!

As we close out another year, the end of our men, the not-so end of the world (nice try Mayans) and begin to wrap things up (so to speak) I wanted to take a teeny bit of creative liberty and discuss an ongoing New Years theme.

Weight loss.

Specifically, Terry Bradshaw’s 32-pound touchdown! ((high five)) …that was me virtually high fiving every one of you. Just kidding.

As awesome as losing weight and feeling great is, that’s not what I want to write about.

Moving on.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always enjoyed looking back at the year behind us (heh immature chuckle), and remembering the good, the bad, and the ugly. This year was different though. There was a common trend in every memory, which is not normal, at least not normal for me. Every memory, I found myself thankful.

Things I’m thankful for:

I’m thankful for faith.

I’m thankful for freedom of speech. I wouldn’t be able to write this if it weren’t for that.

I’m thankful for my incredible family.

I’m thankful for Caroline’s decision to go to MSU.

I’m thankful for Hannah’s decision to relocate to Wichita Falls after college.

I’m thankful for my parents picking up their life in Tyler and moving to Wichita Falls.

I’m thankful for Wichita Falls (seems like a trend…)

I’m thankful for a fun little place called Whiskeyta in Wichita Falls.

I’m thankful for Hannah making me go to Whiskeyta October 27^th.

I’m thankful for Grace Church.

I’m thankful that I have been able to constantly work in the industry I love.

I’m thankful I went to college (something I never expected to say).

I’m thankful for friendships.

I’m thankful for my mentor, Tom Copeland.

I’m thankful the Mayans were wrong.

I’m thankful that “my plans” were not His plans.

I’m thankful for freedom of religion.

I’m thankful for free will.

I’m thankful that prayer works!

I’m thankful for an excellent pilot that didn’t kill me when we went flying.

I’m thankful for grilled cheese.

I’m thankful for good conversations and great wine.

I’m thankful for those who challenge me and don’t tell me exactly what I want to hear.

I’m thankful for Christmas decorations and advent calendars.

I’m thankful for sweat pants.

I’m thankful for a boy named Sean.

I’m thankful for CrossFit.

I’m thankful for my sweet parents.

I’m thankful that I got to celebrate their 26^th anniversary with them this year.

I’m thankful for my wonderful Daddy.

I’m thankful for my mom, who is my rock.

I’m thankful that my sisters are my best friends.

I’m thankful for Hannah constantly making me laugh.

I’m thankful for Caroline’s genuine sincerity that’s there when I always need it.

I’m thankful that I got to stand next to my baby sister as she married her best friend, Blake.

I’m thankful for getting a brother this year. And not just any brother, the best brother, ever!

I’m thankful for Blake Stephen Boyd.

I’m thankful that Blake has shown me what I deserve in a man.

I’m thankful for the way he looks at Caroline.

I’m thankful that he loves the Lord more than he loves her.

I’m thankful for the hope he gave me that good guys still exist.

I’m thankful for the Conan’s, Donnie’s, Ed’s, Harry’s, Steve’s, Hank’s, Kyle’s and Paul’s.

I’m thankful for their quick appearance, and disappearance, in my life.

**I DO NOT HATE MEN. I DO NOT HATE MEN. I DO NOT HATE MEN. I DO NOT HATE MEN. I FREAKING ADORE THEM. A LOT.**

As thankful as I am for Paul and his adorably patronizing ways, I wanted to group all the bro’s together and talk about why it’s okay for us to be thankful for jerks.

I’m sure you are probably wondering why in the heck would she be thankful for those jerks, but if it weren’t for them, I would have nothing to write about! And neither would Taylor Swift. And then you wouldn’t be able to go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, then talk to me and explain why you’re never, ever, ever, getting back together.

We can, and should, be thankful for jerks.

Here’s the thing, I’m thankful for what they have taught me, just by being in my life. I mean, I don’t love being treated like crap, or tricked into thinking they really having feelings for me so they can have their way with me, but I’m thankful for what I’ve learned. Making a little bit more sense now?

We all know to…

Be smarter than their smooth words.
Don’t let them walk all over you.
Just because they’re smokin’ hott, doesn’t mean take off your top (uh thank you)
“Self-control, self-control, self-control”.
Respect yourself.
Remember your morals.

…and you will be fine. But, if we are honest, when you’re in that situation, those lessons are hard to remember.

I’ll be the first to tell you, I am a sucker for smooth words (example: Donald) and smokin’ hott looks (remember Hank) but I had to remember, these guys weren’t for me. To tell you the truth, it’s so much easier said than done. As funny as those situations are now, they kind of suck in the moment. Not only do you feel kind of silly, it’s a little embarrassing when you realize they didn’t want me for me, they just wanted to hop on the good foot and do the bad thing.

Yet, I’m still thankful for them. As much as we like to think these bro’s just magically appear out of thin air, they don’t. They’re all around us. I’ve come to learn that these men are a product of the things around them. If you look back at my previous posts, you can see it. Still, I’m thankful for…

Conan’s tenacity: “Cuz “bein’ with Co-nan is like bein’ with no man’…I made that up and I didn’t even go to college.“
Donald’s WHEN-WHEN ultimatium: Girl: When are you going to call? Donald: When you start putting out.”
Ed’s confidence: “Are you afraid one night with me will irreparably damage you? I have great references, if that would make you feel better.”
Harry’s endless supply of useless information: “Like Cher said, “You can wait for the right man to come along, but in the meantime you can have a wonderful time with all the wrong ones.”
Steve’s diagnosis: “Yes. In my professional opinion, I believe you are phallophobic—you’re afraid of the penis.”
Hank’s spiritual guidance: “Jordan, the Holy Spirit told me that we could go ahead and have sex, now that the truth has been revealed! Hallelujah, Hallelujah!”
Kyle’s pep talk: “So, what do you say we let this panther out and score one for the home team?”

As thankful as I am for these guys, I also feel very sorry for them. I feel like they are blinded by their own egos, living without realizing the importance of a relationship that goes deeper (so to speak) than the surface. They go through life believing, the only things that matters in life are sex, power, adoration, wealth and status. Women are a game, and the highest number wins.

Still I’m thankful.

As thankful as I am for those jerks, I am insanely thankful, and grateful for all the good guys still out there. And ladies, they are out there. And when you find them, they will exceed every expectation you have ever imagined. And may even have red hair.

Being patient is rough, but trust me, it is so worth it.

“Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” -1 Thessalonians 5:18

Kyle the Confused

Hi friends! I am so sorry it has been so long since I posted anything. Things got a bit crazy around here, but I’m back and have been working on some amazing stuff that I can’t wait to tell you guys about, but it can wait.

***DISCLAIMER: I LOVE MEN. ALL MEN. TALL, SHORT, FAT, SKINNY, BALD, LONG FLOWING HAIR, NO MUSCLES, CROSSFITTERS, ELIPTICAL CLIMBERS. I. LOVE. MEN.***

That being said, let’s get down to business.

As you guys know, I work out (cue overplayed LMFAO song). When I go to the gym, I look a hot mess. I don’t show up perfectly coordinated in my matching Lululemon Runnin’ with my Homies crop pant and Twist-back Speed Squad tank, with just enough make up to accentuate my eyelashes and cheek bones and a don cute loose side braid that won’t move a millimeter while I walk at an incline pretending to watch Sports Center.

I usually rock an over-sized ratty, holey, faded t-shirt (flaunting my attendance to “University of Hip Hop” on the front and something written in chicken scratch on the back) and a pair of hot pink wind shorts that I bought in the 90’s (chyeah right, I wish).

I’m sure people think I must have been break-dance fighting before I arrived at the gym due to the black circles under my eyes or possibly electrocuted because my hair looks like Marv from Home Alone 2. Yes, I’m very attractive. I also think it is totally, 100% acceptable. I mean, what other place is it, basically a requirement, to dress like a complete slob? The gym is the one place where stinky, sweaty people unite, and attempt to get their workout on. A place where you can scream, yell, huff and puff, grunt proudly, kiss your biceps, contort your body into very awkward positions, own your butt sweat, run way too fast, possibly fall off the treadmill and not get judged. In my personal opinion, the gym is not where you are going to meet your future spouse. I’m certainly not there trying to meet the love of my life. I’m there to de-stress, get my fitness on, and get home to my Chubby Hubby ice cream (judge away).

So, I was a little shocked when Mr. High School Macho-Man Football Quarterback Glory Days, aka Kyle the Confused, approached me.

KYLE THE CONFSUED: Kyle’s comment basically says it all….”I just don’t get it, you’re not ugly….”

KYLE: “Hey, I’ll do you.”

We all know a Kyle, God love ‘em. He’s the charter member of the Bro-hood: a bro-bro culture.

He call’s everyone bro.
He absentmindedly stares out the window, thinking of all the men he would like to beat up, and fantasizing about all the women he will conquer to prove his worth.
He’s “overcompensating” for a petite love muscle.
He is a strong believer in the bros before hoes bond. “Scientifically, men are stronger. You do the math.”
He is an avid user of the chest bump and pound-it.
He is the one at the bar, fist pumping and “GTLing” in the corner.
He owns more intramural championship t-shirts than Good Will.

When I met my Kyle, he was sporting his (insert high school football team practice) t-shirt with the sleeves cut down to his hips.

**We are going to side step for a minute, as I feel it is my female duty, to discuss acceptable etiquette and attire for men in the gym.**

Gym Etiquette:

Staring at yourself in the mirror, while flexing, does not make us want you.
Grunting and/or other attention grabbing sounds do not make you look stronger.
Shaving your body hair is weird… unless you’re Chewbacca hairy.
Intentionally dropping weights and “walking it off” does not make you look like Superman.
While I’m sure you mean well, creating interactions with girls by giving us workout “tips” is annoying, and quite honestly, unwanted.
The creepy, blatant stare from across the room is disturbing. You kind of look like Skeet Ulrich from Scream (it’s a horror film from the 90’s, for all you youngens out there).
Refrain from Instagramming your pecks in front of the mirror. No one “likes” that.
Deodorant is not only acceptable, but a requirement.
Please do not drench yourself in cologne. You are causing headaches. (Fact: Cologne is not a substitute for the aforementioned deodorant.)
Proper “package placement” is always apprecaited. Especially if you’re spotting.

Gym Attire:

Never, ever wear swim trunks.
Please, avoid the barley-there, tiny strapped muscle tank, forever. It’s not okay, even if you’re a body builder.
Wife-beater tank tops remind us of K-Fed.
Unless you are King James or Carmelo Anthony, you cannot pull off a custom sweat band. You look more like Richard Simmons (he was famous in the 80’s, in case you were born after 1990).
Skin-tight tees make you look douchy, even if you have smokin’ hott abs.
Tucking in your shirt is fine, if you are a 90 year-old man.
Jorts, cargo shorts, capri’s, grandpa cotton sweat pants, spandex and yoga pants should never be worn. No one wants to see your junk flopping around on the treadmill or bench press.
When choosing athletic bottoms, please remember, length is key. If you prefer shorts, our ideal legnth should be no longer than a few inches below the knee. As far as shorty-shorts go, those should solely be worn in NBA throwback tribute games, or possibly Halloween. if pants are more your style, make sure they reach your ankle. Too long, and you will eat face on the treadmill (in turn, causing us to fall because we’re laughing). Too short, and you’re rockin’ a cute set of capri’s, which is not okay for any member of the male species.
Athletic tennis shoes are your only option for the gym. Sandals, loafers, or the delightfully cushioned orthopedic Velcro tennies will bring you the wrong kind of attention…
Finally guys, this is not a fashion show. Tight does not mean right. And just because it’s black, does not mean we can’t see through it. Think about it.

Now that’s over, back to Kyle. So, I’m on the treadmill. While minding my own business and lip syncing to my “Look Good Naked” playlist, I begin to notice a shadowy figure slowly walking in my general direction. I’m running on the outside treadmill; so obviously, I assume this person is taking a break, phone call, responding to a text, etc.

No, no, I was wrong. Here he comes, strutting his stuff, stopping right in front of my machine.

Rather than saying “hello” or “hi”, Kyle proceeds to give me the “wankster nod”. For those of you who don’t know that term, its when a guy thinks he has ridiculous swagger, so instead of greeting someone like a regular person, he uses a masculine head nod.

For obvious reasons, I ignore this.

KYLE: Say girl.

Like I’ve said, I’m not at the gym to meet the man of my dreams. I’m there to get my sexy on. I do not look cute. I do not look happy. Honestly, I probably look Mark Ruffalo right before he turns into the Hulk. Also, I am convinced that I sweat more than any other human on the planet. I mean, it’s real bad you guys. I look like I stood in front of a broken fire hydrant. Now that I’ve created this lovely image for you, maybe you can better understand my shock when Kyle continues to lay down his best “Gym-Game”.

So, mid-interval and sweat dripping (hah, immature laugh) from every pore in my body, Kyle walks up and places one hand on my treadmill.

KYLE: Can you hear me?

Really? You can obviously see I have headphones in… (But I did).

He motions for me to remove an ear bud. I’m reluctant, for fear I will sling sweat across his overly oiled up body, but oblige.

KYLE: You’re always in here, getting after it. 100%. You never quit, girl.

ME: You aren’t really suppose to, right?

KYLE: <insert cackle> Touché. Anyway, I just wanted to come say hi. I see you in here all the time so, (yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah)…. bee tee dubs, my name is Kyle.

Kyle walked away, slowly strutting his stuff. If I’m honest with you guys, I didn’t mind watching him walk away (if you catch my drift). And him interrupting my workout wasn’t terrible. It was short and sweet, a tad bit cheesy, but I didn’t hate it. Plus, I have to give major credit to any guy that would approach me, looking like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.

When I finished my cardio, I moved to the free weights, needing to work on this cute underarm jiggle. As I’m doing bench dips, here comes Kyle, but this time he wasn’t alone.

KYLE: This is Mark, my workout partner. I was waiting for him earlier when I came over to talk to you.

Is this necessary? Are we dating? Why in the world do I need to meet this dude?

MARK: (extending his hand) Hey, nice to meet you.

ME: Seriously brah, I’m mid-bench dip. Do you really expect me to stop what I’m doing and shake your hand? *Great* I readjust, and give an awkward shake (buh-dum-bum-ching).

MARK: Bro, you’re totes right, she does look like Longoria.

As flattered, as I was to be included in this scripted rom-com, I just wanted to finish my workout.

KYLE: (to Mark) Yeah I know. (Back to me) So if I invite you out with friends sometime, Mark will be there. Just sayin’ <subtle wink>.

Ooh, snap… he is so smooth.

ME: Hokay, cool. I’m sure I’ll see you guys around here.

No lie, less than 10 minutes later, here comes Kyle again.

KYLE: You leaving already?

ME: Trying to (I said with a sarcastic smile).

Crap, please don’t ask me for my number.

KYLE: I know I will regret it if I don’t do this…

Please no.

KYLE (CONT’D): …but I wanted to give you…. my card. Call me sometime (wink). I know I’d call you if you gave me your card.

ME: Ohh, um, yeah okay. Uh huh. Thank you, for that. Have a good workout.

KYLE: Talk to you tonight, girl.

Yes, you read that correctly. A card. His card. Photo included. No words. Just a number.

I have never been the kind of girl to call a guy. I actually hate calling guys. Hate it. Even if I’m not into the guy, I freak out. I get super nervous and start talking in a weird voice… but I had another week until I got paid and the chance of a free dinner was tempting. I bit the bullet and called.

He asked if he could take me to dinner (SCORE) and then we could meet up with his friends at a local bar.

**Quick note: Ladies, when you begin to notice red flags in the men you are dating, do yourself a favor and reconsider if the relationship is actually worth it. Lying to yourself while acting “impressed” by the unimpressive only prolongs the inevitable.**

CUT TO: Kyle picking me up at my apartment. As I opened the door, I see the first red flag.

Red Flag #1: Kyle donning a stellarpair of Dolce & Gabbana Plaid Bermuda shorts and a fancy pair of Just Cavalli Calf Hair and Lizard Stamped Penny Loafers. (I get the Neiman’s catalog. Don’t judge me.)

Anyone who knows me, knows my obsession with stripes and plaids. I have so many nautical blue and white stripe shirts that I honestly believe I subconsciously long to be a ship captain. So Kyle’s plaid shorts totally overrule the hideous shoe choice and I brush off the first red flag.

Immediately, I begin assessing the situation: Designer clothes. Nice car. White teeth. Wasn’t as oily as before. Smelled nice. On the surface, everything looked good. It was when we get to his car, we hit the second red flag.

Red Flag #2: He didn’t open my car door.

Rather than wait by my door, I opened it myself, got in the car and began making excuses for him:

“He probably couldn’t tell I wanted him to open my door”.

“He wasn’t raised that way.”

“No worries, I’ll make sure to tell him I would appreciate him opening my door when we get back to the car.”

When you start making excuses for him (one of my biggest problems), cut your losses and move on.

Kyle did get major points for his restaurant selection. The atmosphere was idealistic. The weather was perfect, so we were able to enjoy outside dining on a super nice deck. For some reason, I am a huge fan of eating outside. I just feel like it’s a more relaxed/carefree atmosphere, and you don’t have to fight loud music to be heard. We ordered drinks and appetizers and moved into the fun “discovery” part of the date.

My definition of “discovery” is seeing if the guy I’ve just met, potentially, has what I’m looking for in a man. Kyle’s definition of “discovery” is my BMI. And explaining why we work.

KYLE: Listen Jordan, you’re beautiful. I’m beautiful. Both of Our BMI’s are under 22%.

Don’t get offended, Jordan.

KYLE CONT’D: I think if we continue to spend time together you would get to see the real me. Everybody likes Kyle. And I think you and I would be the perfect couple.

Perfect?

At that moment, I found myself gazing into Kyle’s eyes, letting my imagination take me to a place I had only dreamt of going.

I was in Coach Gaines locker room. It was the final game of the season and he had something he needed to tell us. Except, in this daydream, Kyle was Coach Gaines and I was Mike Winchell.

COACH GAINES a.k.a KYLE: I want us to take a moment, and I want us to look each other in the eyes. I want you to reach out and grab my right bicep, hold on to it, and know if anyone tries to hurt you, they will get the wrath from Lightening. I want you to place your hand on my stomach. Do you feel that? 6-pack (cocky shoulder shrug). When you need a quick pick-me up, I will always lift it up. I want you to close your eyes, and I want you to think about Mark, who will be your brother. And when you want to let yourself go, I want to remember when he said you looked like Longoria. I want to spend all my free time with that beautiful face, and well proportioned body of yours. Jordan, I want you to remember this moment forever, because forever is about to happen here, in just a few minutes (slight wink, along with a hip wiggle). And I want you to put all this in your heart. Girl, my heart is full. My heart is big. And it is full….. like my pants.

When I came back to reality, I sat speechless; realizing the only part of my daydream was the locker room. The speech was very real. And I had no response for him.

KYLE: So, what do you say we let this panther out and score one for the home team?

After I laughed for a good 15 minutes (okay it wasn’t actually 15 minutes, no one could last…I mean laugh…that long) I left. My place wasn’t very far from the restaurant so I took a cab home, replaying the whole thing over, wishing this would have been a parody film to Friday Night Lights.

It wasn’t until later that night, that I understood what had happened.

We have become a society obsessed with ourselves. Everything revolves around “us”. Posting photos on your Facebook saying, “Hey, look at me, I’m working out”, (comment or like people, I need to feel good about myself). Or, my favorite #selfies on Instagram, “So tired after my dance class” (but look at my rockin’ body. Double click dangit.) I’m as much apart of this epidemic as anyone, as I write on this self-titled blog page. Unfortunately, this is not new for me but I will be the first to tell you, that I am obsessed with self-image. I am definitely not proud of this but through prayer, God is helping me beat this (heh inappropriate).

Fun fact: I use to schedule my entire day around working out. Allotting 2-3 hours for running. I didn’t take jobs because it would interfere with my treadmill time. What’s even worse, I would spend hours on the treadmill but then when it came time to sit down and have my one-on-one time with God, I was “too tired”.

Kyle put his whole self-worth in his appearance. Since my physical attributes fit his self-inflicted rules, we were compatible: physically and sexually. I’m going to out on a limb and disagree with him. In my opinion, the term “sexual compatibility” is a fabrication someone made up when they didn’t want to stay together and/or marry the person they were sleeping with. Remember: these are the opinions of a virgin that can’t drive (name that movie). When you find your knight in shining armor, the last thing on either of your minds will be: Do you think we should have taken the sexually compatible test first? That night, you’re going to be so excited about ripping each other’s clothes off you won’t care what ‘Psychology Today’ or ‘Rachel Ray’ had to say (look at those rhyme skills).

It’s no coincidence that Galatians 5:23 names self-control as a fruit of the Spirit. When we stop feeding this tree of everlasting life, the fruit gets rotten. It’s evident in every aspect of our lives, including our ability to control ourselves. That’s why when hard times come our way, we start feeling sorry for ourselves rather than giving glory to God for giving us the strength to get through them.

Our self-esteem will continually be tested by ways of self-affirmation (the value of ourselves)and self-assurance (our own ideas). Our self-reliance is dependent on our self-motivation, when it shouldn’t be. What makes this whole situation worse is that we allow ourselves to live in this world of self-denial because we lack the self-discipline to live a self-sufficient lifestyle, in turn, causing us to slip into a self-induced coma. We need to let go, and let God. Replace our self, with Him. He doesn’t want to hide anything from you. He won’t tear you down, degrade you, mislead you or forsake you. All He wants to do is love you. He is your first knight in shining armor. And don’t worry, he has a smokin’ hott one waiting around the corner, ready to kick some bro-ass.

“My counsel is this: Live freely, animated and motivated by God’s Spirit. Then you won’t feed the compulsions of selfishness. For there is a root of sinful self-interest in us that is at odds with a free spirit, just as the free spirit is incompatible with selfishness…. But the fruit that comes from having the Holy Spirit in our lives is: love, joy, peace, not giving up, being kind, being good, having faith, being gentle, and being the boss over our own desires. The Law is not against these things. Those of us who belong to Christ have nailed our sinful old selves on His cross. Our sinful desires are now dead.” - Galatians 5:16-24

Hank the Holy Roller

ALL THE CHARACTERS APPEARING IN THIS WORK ARE FICTITIOUS. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO REAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, IS PURLY COINCIDENTAL.

I wanted to take creative liberty and deviate from our current course to introduce a new guy, Hank the Holy Roller.

***Major Disclaimer: In no way do I want this to come across as bashing and/or making fun of our choices as believers. This blog is nothing without God. To God alone be the glory, forever and ever. Amen*** Let’s do this.

Bible studies are the equivalent of going to a bar for single Christians to meet his or her future spouse. It is the perfect setting to meet someone who can truly appreciate the choice of purity.

Enter Hank the Holy Roller.

Here’s a quick breakdown of Hank:

HANK THE HOLY ROLLER: He is smokin’ hott. A cross between Tim Tebow and Tony Romo, with the supreme jaw clench of Channing Tatum. He loves the Lord. Crazy outgoing. Exudes a quiet confidence. I mean, he’s basically the bee’s knees.

I first noticed Hank at our bible study. Quick fact about me: When I notice a cute boy, I get really nervous. So obviously, I couldn’t talk to him, but I did smile and laugh way too much, told hilarious jokes (duh) and I may or may not have sprayed perfume on myself then “accidentally” walked by him multiple times. Back to the story.

Our class had orchestrated a fun bowling night out for our singles group. I crossed my fingers, hoping we would end up on the same team. It didn’t work. Before the games began, Hank asked if he could pray for our safety. In that moment, it was as if he morphed into a little baby angel, aligning the stars for the beginning of our magical love story. (Okay, sorry that was a bit much; I get caught up in my own thoughts.) I will say this; there is nothing… nuh-thing more attractive than a man who prays.

Note: Girls when you go bowling with a guy you like, please, learn from my mistakes. As I approached the lane, I chose to channel my inner Tom Haverford. My technique: bowl “between the legs” (immature laugh). In my mind, I looked all kinds of fly. In reality, I looked like a child swinging the ball between my legs with two hands (I apologize, this is sounding a bit dirty). Also, crying in bowling is not cool. Yes, smashing your fingers between two bowling balls hurts (more inappropriate laughter) but just because you’re bowling like a child doesn’t mean you should cry like one. You will get strange looks.

At bible study the next week, I made it a point to sit by Hank. We were studying Song of Solomon (one of my favorites) but I was having a hard time focusing because I was so aware of his presence. Then, the topic of sexual purity came up… and there it was… a voice echoing in the distance. Hanks voice. He spoke: “As a man, it is so hard to find a woman in today’s society who truly embraces her virginity… if you can even find a virgin.”

Like a Disney movie, suddenly, I was surrounded by small woodland creatures, placing a veil in my hair, laying flowers at my feet while the birds flew in circles around me, batting their eyelashes and singing. As I tossed my shining hair over my shoulder, I noticed I was now moving in slow motion, with a soft focus lens on the eyes of my beloved, perfectly lit by a spotlight that just so happened to be hung directly over my chair.

A few of us decided to go to Johnny Carino’s for a lovely dinner and without realizing what I was saying, I yelled across the room to Hank, “Hey Hank, food? Hungry? Question mark?”

Over lobster ravioli, calamari and garlic bread, we continued to talk about the lesson and purity. Then he said it, “Yeah, I’m saving myself for my wife.” Without thinking I said, “We should go out!”

Hank asked if I had ever seen any of the Bourne movies. Really? Um, obvi. I’ve read all the books; own the Bourne Collection on BluRay and DVD and watched the Bourne Legacy trailer 7,313 out of the 2,367,276 views on YouTube. James Bourne may or may not be my screen saver on my phone and MacBook (wh-what, I mean, huh…he’s okay).

So far this guy seems promising. We both love us some Jesus, former CIA spies with amnesia and our bodies are germ free and we love it. High five!

(Law & Order DUN-DUN Sound)

THE DATE: The Movie

Saturday 3rd September

Let’s adress this real quick: first dates can be, and honestly should be, a nerve-wracking experience. There is potential for major awkwardness, humiliation, hilarity, dull moments, interesting subjects or instant sparks. You never want a first date to be horrible, but if it is, remember everything because it will make for a great story.

I spent more time getting ready for this date than any normal human being should; I think I was hoping to get a 2-syllable damn. When I got the text telling me he was on his way, the nerves kicked into high gear. He arrived at my apartment, looking all kinds of good, and came to the door (ladies: chivalry isn’t dead). As we walked outside, I saw a “vintage” 1990 maroon Oldsmobile. He’s walking toward the passenger door. As it screeches open, I realize he’s rockin’ this ride. Maybe the look on my face led him to explain that he “could not justify driving a nice car with so many suffering in the world.” *swoon* He is sooo deep. Since I knew we were going to a movie, I thought I would pack us some healthy snacks: a super size box of Hot Tamales, Sour Patch Kids and a box of Oreo’s (don’t judge me), a bottle of water and, of course, a couple Diet Cokes.

So, imagine my surprise as we pulled into the parking lot of “The Church of Whats Happening Now.”

First thought: probably car trouble.

Nope.

“SURPRISE!”

He was taking me to the premiere of an independent film. I’m a huge fan of this kind of stuff, so I was pretty excited. And impressed with homeboy to my left. Is it possible I found a gorgeous guy that gets me? Check and mate.

The lights went down as the music began to rise.

[Camera pans down to reveal]

A man sweating profusely, running, jumping, hiding behind cars; constantly looking back over his shoulder. A shadowy figure creeping behind him, waiting for the right moment to attack.

DUH-DUH-DUN

… wait for it, what is chasing him…

…giant letters spelling out:

S-I-N!

The sky darkened. Thunder boomed.

[Camera pans to the sky] and computer generated lightning spells out the following:

“Hank the Holy Roller starring in BOURNE AGAIN!”

Yep, this was happeneing.

After 3 hours of hell, literally, I did learn a couple things.

Properly placed fans and orange, yellow and red tissue paper cut in triangles can simulate fire.
I no longer consider Ghost Rider to be the worst film of all time.
I respect Keanu Reeves.
Just because a guy is a Christian, doesn’t mean he is the guy for me. I mean after three hours of Hank’s fire and brimstone message, Billy Graham would have questioned his own salvation! (Also, where in the world did he find actual brimstone?)

Once he finished signing autographs (ha just kidding), he drove me home. Maybe it was my silence, the “crap, he knows where I live..” look on my face, or the fact that I played Bubble TapTap the entire ride home; but I was pretty sure he could tell I was no longer interested. When we got to my place, I moved at lightning fast speed to get my door open… I still can’t remember if I told him goodbye, thanks or good night.

(DUN-DUN)

6:30 A.M.

Sunday 4th September

I was in that weird half-asleep/half-awake state, when I heard someone beating on my window and calling my name. I’m not gonna lie, it scared the bejebus out of me. So, I put down my stuffed Matt Damon pillow pet (yeah right… *deep sigh* I wish) and grabbed the Glock semi-automatic with laser sites my Dad had given me and peeked through the blinds.

It was Hank. (Son of a…) He looked disheveled, pacing back and forth, in the same clothes from the night before. First thought: probably car trouble. I bet it wouldn’t start and he was stuck out there all night, too embarrassed to bother me. Dadgummit, now I feel half-bad for the guy.

Well, I was half right, he was out there all night, with Jesus.

He explained that after he walked me to the door and got into his car, Jesus came to him. They talked about what a great job he did on the movie, that he was given the spiritual gift of acting, blah, blah, blah… and that I, Jordan, was created for him (Hank) by God. Basically, his search was over. He took my hands, bowed his head and began thanking God. Then, out of nowhere, he starts this crazy talk jibber jabber, mumbo jumbo that I could not, for the life of me, understand.

But wait…. there they are, the hysterics. Tears accompanied with sniffling, snot, drool, convulsive gasping, collapsing, and then thanking the Lord again. Finally, after a good 5 minutes, he pulls himself together, completly unaware of the snot train moving from his nose to lip.

Then it happened.

HANK: Jordan, the Holy Spirit told me that we could go ahead and have sex, now that the truth has been revealed! Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

Eyes closed, face to the heavens, looking a little like Stevie Wonder.

HANK (con’t): …thank you Jesus, abbalebabble, jabba waka ding dong, scooby dibbely doo, wing wong ping pong, king kong cheech and chong, hop hip kasha goo-goo…

ME: Whoa, whoa. Pump the brakes preacher man. Who has two thumbs and talks to Jesus everyday, all day? This girl! I’m really pumped for you, that you had such a great and vivid experience, buuuuut I think, maybe, something might have been interpreted incorrectly. I’m just gonna say this, I can assure you that my Father, my Lord… He would have let me in on this little conversation…. if it were true you psycho! (Okay fine, I didn’t say that last part because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.)

HANK: I wanna say something. I’m gonna put it out there; if you like it, you can take it, if you don’t, send it right back. I want to be on you.

I turned and started walking back into my building, trying to conceal my laughter.

HANK (con’t): Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I… I wanna be on you.

I kept telling myself that I was still hungover from all the sugar, but unfortunately that was not the case.

This past Sunday I went to one of my favorite chruches, Grace Church in Wichita Falls, Texas. Tom Rodgers’, the pastor, sermon was on ‘False Teachers’.

*Please don’t think I am trying to call Hank out, or say he is a false teacher. That is not my intent. But, when you’re walking with Christ, you can recognize when something is or isn’t from Him.*

As I looked over my notes from Sunday, I began to notice similarities between Hank’s behavior and these false teachers. A quick breakdown of False Teachers shows us:

They will deceive many people into believing false doctrines.
They have knowledge of Biblical truths and will use it against you.
They will use charm, deceit, popularity, attraction, etc, to try and lead you astray.
They lead you to believe they’re furthering God’s Kingdom, but in fact, these sleaze bags are trying to create their own.

So now I wanted to try something, lets change the breakdown of ‘False Teachers’ to ‘Guys Who Want to Get in Your Pants’:

They will deceive many people into believing false truths: “The Holy Spirit told me that we could go ahead and have sex now.”
They have knowledge of Biblical truths and will use it against you: “yeah, I’m saving myself for my wife.”
They will use charm, deceit, popularity, attraction, etc, to try and lead you astray:“As a man, it is so hard to find a woman in today’s society who truly embraces her virginity… if you can even find a virgin.”
They lead you to believe they’re furthering God’s Kingdom, but in fact, these sleaze bags are trying to create their own: “Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I… I wanna be on you.”

I think Tom puts it perfectly, “False teachers have their own agenda. They don’t care what God’s scripture says, they’re trying to create their own kingdom.” While I don’t know what Hank was thinking, I know he definitely had his own agenda. Whether or not Hank is a false teacher, I don’t know, but I do know those guys are out there, and they will stop at nothing. Don’t be afraid to “test” your relationships.

So what sets us believers apart from these false teachers? Faith, hope and love.

Faith: Hebrews 11:1 “Faith is being sure of what we hope for. It is being certain of what we do not see.” It’s completely trusting God with every aspect of your life (yes, this includes your love life!)
Hope: Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Expectations and desires - those are OKAY! He wants that for us.
Love: John 3:16 “For God SO loed the world that He gave his one and ONLY Son, that whoever believes in Him WILL NOT perish but have everlasting life.” This is the greatest definition of a true, genuine, unfailing, never-ending love.

Don’t mistake false love for true love. Be patient. And girls, trust me, your superhero’s are out there, they’re just saving the world right now.

Steve the Psychiatrist

Hi! I really can’t put into words how much your sweet responses and comments mean to me. I am so blessed that God has allowed me to be apart of this and wanted to thank you all for reading and sharing this blog. Please feel free to share any of your stories, comments, observations, criticisms, anything at all with me! I love hearing from you guys.

On another note, I wanted to remind you girls that there are good guys out there! Some of the coolest, most attractive, funniest, smartest guys I know are either waiting for their future bride or waited until their wedding night! So, BE STRONG and keep the faith! You will find him in God’s perfect timing!

Moving on. Happy 50-70% off Valentine’s Day candy day! Let’s talk about Steve the Psychiatrist.

One night, after I had just finished this great, super intense cycling class I wanted nothing more than to relax and de-stress my poor legs. Side note: I would have used my gym’s sauna, but I’m not the biggest fan since no one uses proper ‘Sauna Etiquette’:

Bring a towel. Even if it’s a nude sauna, no one wants your bum sweat or curly q’s on the wood bench.
If you are a bit stinky, rinse off. We are in a small-enclosed area, and the heat magnifies your stank.
Please don’t stretch. (I don’t think this needs an explanation.)
Don’t make eye contact. We’re not in there to make friends.
Space out. There is no need to be all up on someone else.
Starting a conversation is not necessary.
The sauna is not a nail salon; please don’t trim your toenails.

Since I nixed the sauna, I decided to go relax in the hot tub at my apartment complex. As luck would have it, I was alone. Thank goodness. I put on my “Chillin’ Out Max & Relaxing All Cool” playlist (please know the reference) and slipped into my happy place. You know how you can feel when someone is staring at you? Well, they were. I have no idea how long he had been there, but Steve the Psychiatrist had made his way into the hot tub. Here is a quick reminder about Steve:

STEVE THE PSYCHIARTRIST: Steve is sure that I have buried sexual hang-ups that I cannot or will not face, because who in their right mind (and in the 21^st century) would choose to wait.

STEVE: “I bet you have daddy issues. Here is my card. I could really help you work through this.”

Side note: Since I brought up ‘Sauna Etiquette’, I feel as if I should mention proper ‘Hot Tub Etiquette’:

Hot Tubs are not bathrooms. Keep your bodily fluids to yourself.
Stay out if you have open sores. Gross.
No posteriors for posterity. You are not paparazzo, don’t take pictures.
This ‘Hot Tub’ is G-Rated. I don’t want to see all that junk, all that junk inside yo’ trunks.

Back to the story: As I opened my eyes, much to my horror, I see a very thin, pale man, straight up, staring at my boobs….(in high pitched sing-song tone) awwk-ward!

And then, it spoke.

Suddenly, I felt like I was in the middle of an SNL sketch. I was in the hot tub with Will Ferrell’s character Roger Clarvin, and he was hoping I was his lov-ah, Virginia (Rachel Dratch).

STEVE: Well, hello there.

I hoped not responding would lead him to believe I was deaf.

STEVE (con’t): I have not seen you down here, but I have seen you around…

It did not.

STEVE (con’t): …in your windows.

ME: Excuse me?

STEVE: Forgive me, I have been known to use sexual innuendos in my practice, because I’m a doctor.

ME: Oh I thought you said you saw me in my window.

STEVE: No, no, innuendos. You don’t seem to have many lovah’s.

ME: I’m sorry, but have we met?

STEVE: Forgive me, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Steve Boehner, but you can call me Dr. Steve.

The awkward silence prodded him on.

STEVE: Tell me your name?

ME: I don’t wanna.

STEVE: Pleased to meet you Ida. Now, Whana, is that…

ME: …Hindu.

STEVE: Ah, yes. I took a Hindu class in college. I studied with the Rosetta Stone.

Silence.

STEVE: Did you say something? What kind of doctor?

ME:…sure.

STEVE: I’m a sexual healer. A therapist of sorts. Some may refer to me as a psychiatrist but I like to think of myself as the gateway to pleasure town.

ME: I’m sorry?

STEVE: May I share something with you?

ME: I’m just really trying to –

STEVE: Do you not find when one first enters the warm, rolling waters of the ha-tub, is it not unlike your first encounter with a new lov-ah?

ME: Um, I don’t, but I guess I will find out when I get married.

STEVE: Are you telling me you’re a Virgitarian? An emerging virgin? A holder of the V-Card?

ME: Yep. I’m A VBC.

STEVE: A VBC? I’m not familiar with the term.

After a second of contemplating this, Steve devises a “brilliant plan.(I use the term brilliant loosely).

STEVE (con’t): Okay, oh—okay, I’m willing to help you out with this neurosis.

ME (laughing): Neurosis? Really?

STEVE:Yes. In my professional opinion, I believe you are phallophobic—you’re afraid of the penis.

Annnd we’ve reached a whole new level of awkward hilarity. Let the diagnosis begin.

STEVE: Daddy issues?

ME: No.

STEVE: Ah, Vaginismus, the vagig has grown closed?

ME: Nope, don’t have snap dragon in my pants.

STEVE: Are you libido intolerant?

ME: What is - what does that even mean?

STEVE: You body is rejecting it’s natural animal instincts.

ME: Au contraire baby, I’m randy. (know the reference)

STEVE: Germaphobe?

ME: What do you call a germ who wants to have a good time? A Fungi.

Undeterred by my quick wit, he keeps going.

STEVE: Ohhhh, no. Ida, Ida, Ida, dare I ask, this is not, don’t tell me it’s a — a morality issue? A choice?

ME: VBC means ‘Virgin by Choice’, so yes, it is a choice.

Here was my chance to school the scholar.

ME: Okay, let me try and put this in real simple terms. Would you rather have a piece of fruit that several people have already take a bite from? OR, would you rather have your very own, picked fresh from the tree, juiciest, firmest, supple, most delicious apple?

STEVE: Must it be an apple? Could I, maybe, have my very own fruit salad……

I won’t make you guys suffer anymore.

I do agree with Steve in one sense, sex is psychologically delicate. Doctors will tell you that men are visual and women are emotional. To me, sex is the most intimate sharing of ones self. The Bible puts it so clear, “and two shall become one” (Mark 10:8). If you pretend sex is, as Steve says, just an “animal instinct” that must be satisfied, you will be left feeling so empty inside because you gave away the real you to someone who put on a false front.

We get a glimpse of true, genuine, unfailing love when we see God’s compassion through the manhood of Jesus. True love is God’s love. His love has no ulterior motives, no hidden agenda, no strings attached. It’s perfect. That’s pretty stinkin’ awesome.

For me, waiting is my way of showing the man God has for me, that I am in this for the long haul. It’s my commitment to our life together. Plus, I know, the sex is going to be awesome. I’m pretty excited (half immature laugh) for my wedding night… the honeymoon… and every day after that (high five). So, until then, I will continue to increase my flexibility and build up my cardio endurance, so it will be all kinds of smokin’ hott as we, to quote the great Marvin Gaye, “GET IT ON” (bow-chicka-wow-wow)!

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins … And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. - 1 John 4:10, 16

Harry the Hater

Hi guys! I’m so sorry it’s been forever since I posted anything. The last two months of my, and my families, life have been devoted to planning, decorating, editing, booking, assembling and rehearsing.. all to make sure my baby sister had to most perfect wedding day. To say Caroline and Blake’s wedding was beautiful, does not do it justice. Their wedding was special. Something I could never adequately describe but, one of Caroline and Blake’s best friends and super talented writer, Nolen Smith, paints the perfect picture of their incredible day in his blog: “The Will to Walk” http://thewilltowalk.blogspot.com/2012/01/jesus-at-wedding.html (Read it, you won’t be disappointed!)

Now that my proud older sister bragging is finished, I think it’s time to talk about Harry the Hater. Here is a quick reminder about Harry:

HARRY THE HATER: Harry believes that I must be a religious zealot who uses religion as a wall to avoid intimacy. What Harry is unaware of is that, in the limo, between the church and the reception, IT IS ON!

If you’ve never met a Harry, you’ve heard of him, or someone like him. You can usually find him sitting in a coffee shop listening to his-own music, or at some underground, hole-in-the-wall bar you’ve never heard of. Girls: if you’re wearing vintage mixed with Forever 21 and reading a book by Nietzsche, be careful, he will try and jump your bones, but not before he mocks or insults you.

I think of my Harry the Hater, as Bill Maher donning Ray Bay Wayfarer’s and skinny jeans.

So, when Harry and I met, needless to say, we had a hairy situation on our hands.

I was working on a small independent film a few years back. We were running a skeleton crew, so everyone got really close. *Side note: For those of you who don’t know what a skeleton crew is, it’s a very small number of people needed to make and run a film.* It was there, on this set, when I met Harry. And, no I did not have a Meg Ryan/Billy Crystal romantic comedy “meet cute” moment, that would have been funny though.

A local bar we had been filming at invited us to come out, on them, for the evening. It was pretty standard conversation within our group, “What’s your next project?” “What have you worked on before?” “Do you write, direct, produce, act…” “You might recognize me from such feature films as……” and so on. Harry’s attitude completely changed when I started talking about the documentary I was writing, “The Virgin Diaries”.

I’m not sure what made Harry more uncomfortable, the fact I was saving myself or that my abstinence was based on a promise I made to my Lord and Savior.

Let me explain, Harry‘s different from a lot of guys I’ve met. Attractive at first glance, but as you get to know him, he’s not much to look at. He claims he is a nonconformist, subversive, and unaffected by society’s opinions and view. But, the moment he interrupts me, with his classy eye roll, and says, “Ohh, you’re one of those…..”, we meet the real Harry.

For the record, I don’t think Harry was ever trying to get in my pants; he just wanted to tell me how wrong I was.

Here are a few excerpts (my favorites) from our little chat:

Harry: Your God created us as sexual beings, He wants us to ‘love’ each other…that’s what the bible says, right?

Harry: Discouraging premarital sex is against my religion. Get it?

Harry: Like Cher said, “You can wait for the right man to come along, but in the meantime you can have a wonderful time with all the wrong ones.”

Harry: Don’t give me your “holier than thou” virgin attitude. Ugh, all of you people are the same. It’s like Bill Maher says, “Religions are maintained by people. People who can’t get laid, because sex is the first great earthly pleasure. But if you can’t get that, power is a pretty good second one. And that’s what religion gives to people. Power. Power is sex for people who can’t get or don’t want or aren’t any good at sex itself.”

Apparently, Harry is a fountain of quotes and useless information.

So, since Harry thinks I am this mega right-winged Christian wacko, I wanted to approach this in a way his simple-mind could understand:

“Reasons to abstain if Jesus is taken out of the equation.”

Sex means different things to different people. To Harry, sex is like a can of Pringles… “Once you pop, the fun don’t stop.” He believes the mind and body are miraculous, and those who “wait” are extreme and ridiculous. Harry’s motto: “Why wait… fornicate!”

All too often, sex doesn’t happen at the right time. It’s too casual. Too easy. Too fleeting. And to some, too insignificant. Sure, your bodies might be in sync, but your mind isn’t. You might be thinking one thing, but know he, or she, is thinking another. In the end, one of you will end up hurt. Has anyone ever told you his or her relationship was saved because “the sex is so great”?

So, here are some good, non-religious, reasons to “Hold out for Mr. Right”:

1. Filtration of Jerks: Early on, any guy that starts throwing down mad game and suggests moving to the bedroom is in it for sex, and sex alone. You might lose the guy if you tell him “No” but do you really want to be with someone who was that impatient with sex?

2. The Pursuit of Happiness: Girls: don’t you want a man to peruse you like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice?! Their relationship gradually developed over time, as they got to know one another, on a personal rather than an intimate level. “My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” Mr. Darcy’s love was so strong that knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Ms. Bennett. This proves that his love went beyond the physical. He loved her enough to wait for her. Start your love story off right.

3. Your body will be germ free and you will love it. Let’s look at some stats on STD’s in the U.S. Right now.

One in four college students have an STD. That works out to over 50% of our population have an STD at some point in their life.
19 Million new sexually transmitted infections occur each year, most half among 15-to 24-year-olds.
STDs may cause serious, life-threatening complications including cancers, infertility, ectopic pregnancy, spontaneous abortions, stillbirth, low birth weight, neurologic damage, and death.
Number of People Affected in U.S.:
Chlamydia: 1,244,180 million new cases each year

Trichomoniasis: 7.4 million new cases each year

Gonorrhea: 301,174 new cases each year

Genital Warts (HPV): 6.2 million new cases each year

Genetial Herpes: 1 million new cases each year

Hepatitis B: 4,500 new cases each year

Syphilis: 13,997 new cases each year

HIV: 1 Million, with as many as 45,000 new AIDS cases each year.

4. The only kind of baby you will have is a food baby; (definition) a person who indulges in a large amount of food which makes their stomach stick out as if they’re prego.

5. It is not true that if you don’t *use* it, you *lose* it.

6. R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Unfortunately, if you ask any guy that has been apart of a one-night stand, he almost never calls a girl back. And whether it’s fair or not, those same guys will lose all respect for you.

7. Lastly, do you want to change your, or your families, life in one moment of passion?

Whenever you find yourself in a sexual situation, ask, “How will I feel when this is over?”

Guys like Harry are going to mock and satirize you in a sarcastic, ‘ironic’ manner. This is a classic example of ‘sour grapes’ because, deep down (immature laughter), Harry is very bitter and jealous that he has totally failed at creating an original identity of his own. Rather than find his identity in Christ, Harry chooses to believe no deities exist and must instead, recycle the used “trends”, or better, the movement and concepts of past generations.

Harry and I will never share the same views, and that makes me very sad, but I will continue to pray for Harry, and those like him.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will.” – Romans 12:2

Ed the Ego Man

Happy 2012 friends! I suppose it is time to pick up where we left off with another entry in The Virgin Diaries. I want to start off the New Year on a positive note, so here it goes…

On New Years Eve I met old friends in Dallas, where we rung in the New Year seeing Wade Bowen at Gilley’s. Little did I know, on that wooden dance floor, I would meet the man of my dreams. As Wade Bowen and the band played “Trouble”, our eyes met in passing for the first time. I looked away; embarrassed he caught me, but I still saw the smile on his rugged face.

While the music played on, I peeked over the shoulder of my current dance parter, to see if I could spot him boot scootin’ across the dance floor. Then, at that same moment, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder, and there he stood. Butterflies flooded my stomach as he asked me if he could cut in. In that perfect moment, he took my hand and spun me into him. I’m not sure if it was the magic of the moment or the bottles strewn over the dance floor that landed me face first, apparently crashing into the stage. Eventually I awoke, realizing none of this happened. My Mr. Rough n’ Ready was just a figment of my imagination. And unfortunately, starting off the New Year with the wrong kind of bang (no pun intended).

There is a reason for this sappy love story, I swear. you see, during this daydream, I was actually tuning out Ed the Ego Man.

**Disclaimer: These stories are compilations from various conversations I have had. The names and situations have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. Also, when I go out, I do not make an over-the-top, “ta-da” entrance announcing my virginity to see the type of dudes I can attract.**

You might remember Ed from my first entry, but just in case:

ED THE EGO MAN: This guy takes my virginity personal, like virgins everywhere are launching a personal attack on his life choices. He assumes I, the virgin, am sitting in judgement of of the notches in his bedpost and immediately picks a fight, while letting me know he is NOT contagious.

ED: “Dude, there are a million chicks whose clothes would fall off the second they got a look at all this (while biting his lower lip and attempting to do a sexy body roll).

Ed is confident. He looks all kinds of good. He is so cool. He runs his hands though his hair and absent-mindedly makes you want him. He thinks all of Taylor Swifts songs are written about him. His ego is greater than an Italians love for wine.

Ed’s problem with me is that I don’t share his views on sex. He can’t wrap his head (inappropriate laughter) around why I would choose to wait. He won’t let it go. He can’t let it go. He must convince me to step over to the dark side, which would validate the lifestyle and choices he has made. It’s a huge blow to his ego that I won’t hop on the good foot and do the bad thing (uh thank you…please know the reference).

Our conversation goes something like this:

ED: Once upon a time, everyone was a virgin…

ME: Yes, that’s true.

ED: I know you are a spiritual person, c’mon, take this leap of faith.

ME: (turns to exit) Oh woooow.

ED: Are you afraid one night with me will irreparably damage you? I have great references, if that would make you feel better.

ME: (sincere laughter) I’m feeling pretty good, thanks though.

ED: Okay, listen; I don’t know why you’re judging me. You’rethe virgin.

ED (CONT): (cocky) Girl, I put the STD in stud. That came out wrong. However, I read somewhere that German researchers are close to a breakthrough ointment that will reduce the pain from excruciating to dull, never mind.

I think Ed’s self-referenced and self-centeredness stems from a fear of rejection or a lack of trust when it comes to love. He needs me to agree with him that sexual promiscuity is okay, even normal. When I won’t agree, I reject everything he stands for. Ed genuinely believes that I should be worshiping gratefully at his feet, for at least one night. Unfortunately for Ed, that spot is taken as I choose to worship at the feet of my Lord and Savior.

I’m just as afraid as Ed when it comes to rejection and falling in love. But my fear subsides in knowing that I am loved and accepted perfectly in the eyes of my Father. And I am hopeful that, as I continue to wait, God will reveal His perfect plan for me.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” - Jeremiah 29:11

Donald the Dazzler

Merry Christmas friends and family! Christmas is definitely my most favorite time of year. I may or may not have watched every Hallmark, Lifetime and ABCFamily 25 days of Christmas movie this year. I have seen Kevin McCalister set up traps and watch Gangster Johnny give the bad guys to the count of 10 before he pump’s their guts full of lead, more times than I’m comfortable saying. I may consider Buddy the Elf my best friend, but let’s not talk about that.

Even though those movies rock my socks off, the best part Christmas arrived when my gorgeous sister Hannah finally got in town.

I’m sure your wondering what in the heck any of this has to do with The Virgin Diaries and I’m getting there, I promise! So, let me start by explaining. I’m the oldest of three sisters. They are my best friends. My life. My heart. And when I’m not around them, it’s almost as if a piece of me is missing. When we were little girls, even though we each had our own room, we would set up camp in the TV room and sleep in there every night.

*Impressive fact: we can carry legit conversations with each other in our sleep. Jealous?*

We talk about everything…especially boys. These times are rare now that we’ve all graduated from college. This Christmas in particular, because it’s the last one we will be “The Wilson Girls”, as Ms. Caroline Dee Wilson becomes Mrs. Blake Boyd January 28th.

So, as we don our footy pajamas: I am Superman (cape and all), Hannah is Kermit and Caroline is Animal, we catch up on the boys from Christmas Past, Present and Future. We look back on the ones we hurt and the ones who hurt us. The huge mistakes and the tiny lazy ones (immature laughter). We started talking about our recent boy “adventures” and it brought forth a guy that has not yet been mentioned in this blog: Donald the Dazzler (I really wanted to say doucher, but since it’s Christmas I decided to stick with the theme).

**Disclaimer: In no way am I trying to bash any guy out there! I love guys. I’m one of their biggest fans. They’re wonderful. And make my heart beat fast and slow at the same time (please know the reference). And for all you narcissists’ out there: THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU! This is not about anyone in particular. Back to Donald.

DONALD THE DAZZLER: He is wonderful. Everything you’ve dreamt about. Loves the Lord with all his heart, but when I won’t spend the night “thing’s just aren’t going to work out, like I thought, between us.”

Donald is a great example of what I like to call a WHEN-WHEN situation.

Girl: When are you going to call?
Donald: When you start putting out.

Donald is good. Maybe even the best. He quotes scripture. He has the Bible app on his home screen. He talks long-term. He sets the hook and tricks you into taking the bait (sorry, huge fishing fan). He’s got passion in his pants and he ain’t afraid to show it. He’s sexy and he knows it (he works out).

When things start out:

“You look beautiful.”
“I think I have a crush on you.”
”I love ‘us’.”
“This, you and me, (heavy sigh) perfect.”
“How did I get so lucky, that you would choose me?”

As the night progresses:

“You’re so hot.”
“I love your body.”
“Come closer.”
“Just ignore my hand, it has a mind of its own.”
“No, no babe, I won’t think any less of you…”

I don’t think guys understand the temptations are just as hard for girls to resist as guys. We want the same things you want, trust me! But God’s man, or woman, for you will not tempt you like that. They will be willing to wait with you, not on you. And when that awesome day comes, you get to give him or her that special gift with no guilt or remorse.

Ladies: When you meet this dazzler BRACE YOURSELVES! They are not Edward Cullen. Edward is fictional. God is not. God is Edward times 137 bazillion (if you can even wrap your mind around that)!

And for the ladies, this guy will be better than Edward could ever be (seriously). He is going to love you like Christ loves you. Unconditionally. Forever. Through thick and thin. And yeah, they may not be as eloquent as Edward and say stupid things like:

“You have cute sausage fingers.”
“I like you with some extra meat on those bones.”
“…God love you for trying.”

But that’s why we love them! and that’s why we can wait for that special someone.

After all, how can we show perfect love until we know perfect love?

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:17-18

Entry Two: Conan the Bar Barian

I’m at a total loss for words and so encouraged by the amazing responses that have come out of this blog. When I wrote the first entry, I did it knowing that I may never have a date again. I mean, honestly, who would have thought my virginity would have brought back old friends, while making new. God is using this for something so much bigger than I ever expected and I am so lucky to have a front row seat in it.

So, I kinda want to start off today with looking at Conan the ”Bar Barian”. You know the guy, he is in every bar, in every town you have ever been to and somehow “my virginity” is a dragon he must conquer. Here is the description Conan again:

CONAN THE BARBARIAN: This guy is the stud, the man to change my mind. His testosterone flows free and is the irresistible elixir to break my will.

This guy is serious. His quest is to s(lay) me, then pound his chest and hang my “tail” around his neck like a trophy.

Conan: “How can you marry someone, make a commitment for the rest of your life without knowing if you’re sexually compatible with them? You wouldn’t buy a car without test driving it! Am I right? Am I right? Oh yeah, pfshh, I am so right. (Pound it….literally). So darlin’, here is what I am willing to do to you, uh I mean for you. I’m going to ‘let’ you take me around the block for a lil’ spin, (eyebrow raises) see how you like it. Our lil’ secret (wink) If you ain’t feelin’ it no big deal, but you’ll be feelin’ it… Cuz “bein’ with Co-nan is like bein’ with no man’…I made that up and I didn’t even go to college.”

When I think of this type of guy, I think about Kristin Wiig’s booty call in Bridesmaids. I know there are guys out there who really think they are doing women a service by sleeping with them, making themselves seem sexier, which is supposed to make us want them more?

“…but can he do this…” (if you don’t get this, see Bridesmaids) Really guys? Really?

Clearly, Wiig’s character was mistaking “sex” for intimacy, hoping for love, but getting whiplash instead. In his mind he really believed he was doing her a favor.

A closer look at this Barbarian showed what he valued. He drove a Porsche, had a smokin’ hot bod, lived in a massive, gorgeous gated home, and I think he told Wiig she was #4 on his “list.” Really? I mean, he has a ton to brag about, but not to a woman. The fact that he has a list is kind of weird, but maybe his homeboy’s will understand.

At first glance, seems like he might be more into bro’s than ho’s (ba-dum-bum-ching)… that might be a stretch, but his self worth is totally wrapped up in how others perceive him.

So what happens when this type of guy meets someone like me, a virgin, who has a completely different view of sex and love?

Promiscuity-Bad … Monogamy-Good.

He HAS to change me over to his way of thinking to validate how successful he is, because his self worth is solely based on what he has and who he has done. I’m not a guy and am relatively clueless when it comes to bro-code. I have however, seen it in movies, high school and unfortunately in my fantasy league. Guys, most guys (not all guys), one up, brag and show off when they are all together. Whether it’s their job, financial status, size of their……….truck, or the women they have slept with…

“I tapped that.”

“You see her… Boom son!”

“Been there, done that.”

Conan needs to be loved and adored, so do I… but I can wait, because I don’t want to miss the right guy because I was killing time with the wrong one. Quite frankly if Conan isn’t meant to be my husband, then he is probably someone else’s and out of respect for his future wife, I’m not going to partake in what God intended for her to share with him.

Now eagerly desire the greater gifts. Love is Indispensable. And yet I will show you the most excellent way. 1 Corinthians 12:31

Entry One

I am an anomaly, a deviation from the norm. I am a 26-year-old virgin. I am beyond proud of my choice and my ability to give the gift, which can only be given once, to one man, one time. I don’t wear a sign for the world to see, I don’t share it with every guy I meet…it is very personal choice between me and the man I have lifted up in prayer since I was a little girl. God’s chosen for me a wonderful man that I will meet in His perfect timing.

However, when the opposite sex discovers my truth, the reactions are often hilarious. It’s not uncommon, when we’re out, for an intoxicated friend of mine to blurt out, “hey, she still has her v-card”, or “can you believe she is still a virgin?” It’s almost like a real life unicorn was walking into a bar when she says stuff like that. And the reactions are as if I have morphed right in front of their eyes.

In a fallen world these are the typical male reactions:

CONAN THE BARBARIAN: This guy is the stud, the man to change my mind. His testosterone flows free and is the irresistible elixir to break my will.

ED THE EGO MAN: This guy takes it personal, like virginity is a personal attack on his life choices. He assumes I, the virgin, am sitting in judgment of his personal choices and immediately picks a fight, while letting me know he is NOT contagious.

HARRY THE HATER: Harry believes that I must be a religious zealot who uses religion as a wall to avoid intimacy. What Harry is unaware of is that, in the limo, between the church and the reception, IT IS ON!

STEVE THE PSYCHIARTRIST: Steve is sure that I have buried sexual hang-ups that I cannot or will not face, because who in their right mind (and in the 21^st century) would choose to wait.

KYLE THE CONFSUED: Kyle’s comment basically says it all….”I just don’t get it, you’re not ugly….”

PAUL THE PATRONIZER: This is the guy who comes across super sweet, treating girls with an apparent kindness, but reveals his true colors when his sense of ‘superiority’ comes out when he asks “So, sweetie, what IS wrong with you?”

The “endings” have become as predictable as the sunrise…

CONAN: “You just haven’t met a real man.”

ED: “Dude, there are a million chicks whose clothes would fall off the second they got a look at all this (while biting his lower lip and attempting to do a sexy body roll).

HARRY: “God created us as sexual beings, He wants us to ‘love’ each other…that’s what the bible says, right?”

STEVE: “I bet you have daddy issues. Here is my card. I could really help you work through this.”

KYLE: “Hey, I’ll do you.”

PAUL: “Let Papa Paul help you out”.

I’m rarely surprised by a man’s reaction, but often encouraged by friends and mentors who have regrets of loves lost or wondering what might have been if they hadn’t been “one of the girls that guy slept with.” One of my dearest friends is professing her “revirginization” and declaring she is a “Born Again Virgin”. While I completely respect her decision, and know her heart is pure and in the right place, it is just easier for me to stay a regular virgin.

You might be surprised to know that I have attended four weddings this year where three of the couples chose to wait until their honeymoon. And in January I have the great honor of standing beside my baby sister, my best friend, as she becomes Mrs. Blake Boyd, who will later that evening, give her husband that gift she saved for him and only him. Where he, in turn, will give her the gift he saved just for her, his bride.

For the record, the temptations are great and are constantly testing me. But I so look forward to the chapter in my life, where it is no longer a temptation…it’s a present! Song of Solomon holds my heart and assures me of the love and intimacy I will one-day share, and that brings the biggest smile to my face.

In the meantime I have met some super attractive guys, but for those of you who “just don’t get it”; you’re not the one for me. I know when I find ‘him’, he will definitely get it….and then some (buh bam!)