Once upon a time, I was a 23-year-old virgin. Now, I know that’s not insanely old, I don’t have anything on that 40-year-old virgin they made the movie about, but it *is* older than most people. According to a sex survey conducted by ABC, only 3% of Americans over the age of 22 are still chaste, and everyone knows that when you’re suffering through extra years of virginity you multiply those years by seven (as in dog-years), so actually I was, like, a 52-year-old virgin, so that movie should have really been made about me.
I shed some light and make some confessions about what life was like as an ‘Old Virgin’ in my newest post for Thought Catalog. And of course you can check out more confessions from me in my new Thought Catalog book, here.
Unlike the majority of Americans, I do not make the resolution to go to the gym and lose weight on the first day of every New Year. Instead, I make this resolution about one month earlier, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, because it’s the day I find myself overwhelmed with the most extreme amounts of self-loathing. So fresh in my mind is the awe-inspiring gluttony of Thursday, followed by a full 72 hours of unadulterated sloth, that I worry I’ll soon become one of those people who needs to be removed from his one-bedroom apartment in a wheelbarrow, arm fat spilling over the sides. I vow to change my ways immediately, and that’s how I find myself muttering curse words under my breath as I stuff tennis shoes into my gym bag, and gather the strength for my triumphant return to fitness. Read my satirical article about said gym visit (an adapted excerpt from “I Swear I’ll Be Good At It!”), live now on Thought CatalogandHuffington Postand Medium .