The twenty-seven-year-old virgin

So there I was strolling down King George Road on this beautiful, bright and sunny morning in Hahaharare. Your idyllic summer’s morning really, flowers in bloom, birds singing softly, you know, all that water-color painting stuff, very fecking Mills & Boon.

Anyway, there I was traipsing about in Avondale, and I saw this ass walkin in front of me, and I was like, whoa damn, wouldya look at that, holy cow batman, stars shining bells ringing hallelujah moment. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen my fair share of Beyonces in my time, and I know my Jungle Bunny’s got the most beautiful ass in the world (blow kiss, wink wink), but this girl’s ass was like….Anita Baker singing. Poetry.

Then she turns around, and hang-on-just-a-minute-sports-fans, blistering barnacles, it’s an old school friend of mine. Here I was, in that unique bliss one can only get from cheap tourism, a game walk with a view, you know, and I actually know the game! Well, ain’t life beautiful I thought, so it was that cliched reunion moment, the whole hugs and rapid-fire questions thing (the only one I wanted to ask was “You been workin out?”). Of course we get round to the subject of partners, lovers, spouses etc. That’s when she hit me wit it.

Not only is this girl currently single, she’s also a ‘virgin’. See, I could have said *claims* to be a virgin but I knew all y’all feminists would chew me up, so yeah, she says she’s a real-life, honest-to-goodness 27-year-old who’s never had sex. Now I ain’t saying that’s a problem, BUT THAT’S A feckING PROBLEM!

Hey look, I’m not knocking the virgins out there, damn I love y’all to bits really, stay strong (fist raised etc) but hey, at 27? If you’re gonna be saving yourself for marriage, as she (claims she) is, that’s alright, all power to ya, sister. But surely there comes a time, and methinks 27 is past that time, when you start wondering. Especially if you’re NOT in a steady potential marriage type relationship (hence potential wedding night etc).

This girl told me she’s had both motive and opportunity, but she just hasn’t budged. She’s made her bed and chosen NOT to lie in it, so to speak, and she tells me she just ain’t interested until she’s really in love with a husband and everything that comes with it. Now, I think that’s great and everything, but COME ON GIRL, YOU’RE TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD!

It’s all well and good being principled, in fact I respect that as much as any man ever has or could (if male headquarters reads that I’m screwed), but surely there must be a cut-off age where you just say “Bugger this” and get yourself…buggered? I know this may inspire some emotion (calm down, Jungle Bunny), but surely you ladies have heard of cutting your losses?

Haunganyime for the rest of your life, and goodness knows you can’t double-click your own mouse forever.