Postscript to Men as Virgins 

 

This book was first published in 2006 as VIRGINS! A Memoir of the Sexual Revolution. This third edition includes three new chapters and an epilogue as well as some fine tuning.

 

Virginity is like a nuclear bomb. It affects every atom of the body: red blood cells, hormones, muscles – all cells. Additionally, it transforms organs: the hypothalamus, heart, aorta, skin and brain. The entire nervous system is forever programmed.

 

Like becoming a parent, a virgin’s firsttime  changes a person’s entire life. The circumstances, environment and emotions connected to the first time often color all other partners. Even

trajectories can be established, such as always seeking the same physical or mental characteristics of a virgin’s partner.

 

Originally written from 1976 to 1981, my conscious intention was to draw portraits of relationships I had with men who were virgins. I planned to unclothe male super-secrets that they hid from subsequent lovers, wives and even themselves.

Unconsciously, to my horror, as a friend informed me, the book was all about me.

 

The sexual-cultural revolution of the 1960 and 1970s was mostly caused by the availability of the Birth Control Pill. This destroyed thousands of years of male-female compromises built into our patriarchal society.

 

Women lost marriage options. Men gained sex without responsibility. After only three dates, American men felt they had the right to demand sex. People no longer learned and adapted to each other’s personalities through months of dating or courtship. Cultural guidelines for men and women’s behavior regarding love, sex and marriage were abandoned.

 

For a few women, like myself, this was a blessing. Borderline personality disorder (BPD) or PTSD – whatever form of mental illness my childhood

bequeathed upon me, was accompanied with hypersexuality. Love-making provided self-medication. For three days. Then demanded another dose.

 

Nowadays, Dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), Mindfulness and Omega-3 oil help people with BPD manage, but not cure, their condition.

 

With six sisters, an absent father, and all-girls’ Catholic high school, I learned most of my sexuality from male behavior. I adopted male promiscuity.

This was desirable because my spiritual leanings made making love a ticket to heavenly fireworks, flying across galaxies with my Guardian Angel,

and experiencing interstellar space and time travel as I delved into lovers’ minds.

 

Why say No to such wondrous experiences?

 

Once I became mentally healthy, boredom replaced that - unless a possible future was a reality with my lover. Never did my mind open again into men’s innermost images, feelings and biological atoms and escort me through that awesome universe.

 

By the time I was 33 in 1983, the antidepressant Wellbutrin killed my sex drive, killed my power to recall dreams, and killed my ability to cry. It also

killed my depression, suicidal feelings and anger.

 

Additionally, Wellbutrin helped me keep jobs and save money; I have not become a bag lady in my

old age.

 

How I wished I had that drug when I was 19!

 

At 34 in 1984, I leapt from an established laser-like trajectory to a path dreamed years before. My life changed 100%. I adventured around the world in Asia, Arabia and Europe as an English as a Foreign Language (EFL) teacher for 25 years. Changing jobs, countries and cultures kept my BPD mind occupied, while Wellbutrin made me capable of handling daily life.

 

I don’t expect to be happy. I have reconciled that contentment is sufficient.

 

My present work in progress, EFL Expats, fictionally describes many of the exotica I encountered while living overseas.

 

In conclusion, to this day, I have only one regret: I did not always recognize love while experiencing it.

 

Alice Delaney Walker,

writing as Zola Lawrence

Portugal