You probably wont print this letter because youll think my ...
My problem is that I've suffered from anxiety disorders and depression my entire life. My fearful disposition has prevented me from having a social life of any kind, including any job worth mentioning. I'm basically desperate and stuck in an adolescent stage, dreaming of doing things with women that most normal guys did when they were 18.
I've been to doctors (and also psychiatrists, psychologists, a sex surrogate, you name it) who put me on anti-depressants. These medications worked wonders for me with one notable catch: They all have severe sexual side effects. So while these pills drastically reduce my fears and inhibitions, they impair me from the sexual side, which kind of makes them useless for me.
I've run out of options and don't know what to do. Can you help me? You should also know that I've been to a couple of prostitutes and have had a lot of trouble maintaining an erection and performing in general. Plus, prostitutes don't teach you how to kiss or talk to a girl. (Also, I'm not a closeted gay-I've been masturbating to videos and magazines of women since I was 11 years old.)
-Virgil
Ouch. I gotta tell you, I really don't care for these heartfelt, serious questions. They bring out the sweet, gentle, caring Catholic girl from Jersey buried deep (way deep!) inside of me. Your letter is so sad that it inspires me to help you, not mock you. I hate that. So here goes-prepare yourself for a Very Special Episode of Dategirl.
"Boring" and/or "vanilla" aren't terms I'd use to describe the plight of a 34-year-old virgin. "Ghastly" and "depressing" are far more apt adjectives. Although your problems are far beyond my limited realm of expertise, that's never stopped me before.
First, if you've quit taking them, start popping the anti-anxiety/anti-depressants again. They work for you, so use them. Absolutely no shame in utilizing the helper-uppers-especially in NYC. I've done time with DSM-IV poster boys on many occasions, and in fact, one of 'em even left me a souvenir bottle of Xanax (yum!) after he was 86-ed from my life.
Second, don't even think about women for a few months. Instead, go to the gym, buy some clothes that actually fit, take a couple classes in subjects that interest you and focus on getting yourself into a better situation, workwise. Even if you can't immediately find a job you like, doing other things to improve your life will make you happier (and more confident) until you do. I repeat: give yourself at least a three-month break from fretting about your virginal state.
Third, without thinking about them in a sexual way, cultivate a few female friends. You need to learn that women are not scary creatures (exception being moi). Note that these should not be broads you want to sleep with, though at this point I'd bet that anything that pees through hair probably looks like a viable candidate to you. Once you start thinking of ladies as fellow human beings instead of unattainable, mysterious deities, you'll be in a much better position to actually slide your hand up one's shirt.
Let me tell you something: Nobody-man or woman-has an easy time with this dating crap. (Okay, on second thought, some people do. There are those who never seem to go more than 10 minutes without becoming surgically attached to some other human, but they're aberrations and we hate them.) Most of us slog through myriad bad dates either with men whom we like and who don't like us in return, or with dudes we find utterly repulsive, to whom (of course) we're like catnip. Nausea, disappointment, humiliation, deep feelings of remorse and embarrassment-all integral parts of the dating game.
Fourth, go back to your psychopharmacologist, have him adjust your dosages and while you're there, make him give you an 'script for Viagra, Cialis or some other erectile dysfunction drug. With all the pharmaceutical phallus-firmers cluttering the shelves these days, there's absolutely no reason for anybody to be a limp chimp.
Fifth, find yourself another sex surrogate. Do your research and locate one who's well-regarded. Maybe your shrink can help. Unlike hookers, these broads actually do teach you to kiss and talk to women. You should also take comfort in the fact that there are tons of guys running around out there who can't kiss or talk their way out of a wet paper bag, regardless of how much experience they've got under their belts.
Finally, once you've figured out the basics and have a brain percolating over with happy pills, make like every other loser on the planet (myself included) and go online and find yourself someone to have a drink with. Under no circumstances are you to tell her what you just told me. There is no reason in the world she has to know that until you hired someone to take it from you, you were a virgin.
Whilst on your date, do your best not to behave like the pathetic pantywaist you seem to think you are. Drum up a few things to discuss beforehand so you're not caught off guard. If need be, make a list-but for chrissake, don't consult it in front of her. (I actually did that once and while my date chose to find it cute, in hindsight it was actually pretty retarded.) Compliments are always a good route to go down if you find yourself tongue-tied.
If all goes according to plan, I predict you'll be rutting away within six months. Report back, soldier.
[dategirl@nypress.com](mailto:dategirl@nypress.com)