The Virgin Diaries
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 21st 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.


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


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