By Billy Lorne
Through my teen years I was overweight, insecure and “somber,” as Mother would say. In my Bronx neighborhood, guys took pride in having sex with as many girls as possible — the more sex they had, the manlier they considered themselves. So I was in a real predicament at 19 — and still a virgin. I felt like a freak.
I thought something was terribly wrong with me. Maybe I have a biological problem…a physical problem. I’m ugly! The pressure to have sex weighed down on me like an elephant stepping on a peanut. I felt humiliated, ashamed, the weight heavier with each passing day. No normal guy stays a virgin for so long, I thought.
I finally met a girl who showed interest in me. And we did it. We were a top-class act — a real Romeo and Juliet. I spared no expense. After all, this was my first time. So I took her to the top of a dark, smelly stairwell in my apartment building — a climactic end to 19 years of waiting. It was over in 10 minutes.
That’s it? That’s what I waited for… felt pressured to do? I didn’t need to be a Christian to know that something wasn’t right. I felt dirty, uneasy and just wrong...