I was always told that I was good-looking, a nice guy, all that crap. Yet women never wanted me in that way. And, when one seemed to, fate always stepped in the way. At the time, I figured it must be God, and I took it upon myself to hate him with every fiber of my being for standing in my way.

By the time I was 30, I had stopped being nice, and made sex my goal in life until it happened. I was never one to go to bars, even in my younger days, so I turned online. This was in the days o AOL chat rooms (remember those?).

Anyway, I had a small success with a seriously hot woman that I brought home from a bar one night (this was a Thursday when it wasn't so crowded). There was a lot of heavy petting and making out. There wasn't sex, but I was on my way, and it was a real confidence builder.

Later on, I met an older woman at this party, and she wanted to stay the following weekend. I knew what that meant. However, the Friday before, I got a call out of the blue from this other older woman that I had known a long time. She asked me if I was still a virgin( she was the only one who knew). I said yes, keeping my mouth shut about he otherbwoman coming over the following night.

Lon story short, she came over that night, we had sex, and then the other woman came over the following night, and I had sex with her. I had waited too long and wanted it too badly for it to be even remotely awkward. I just tackled it like there was no tomorrow. The second woman became my girlfriend for a couple years. She was divorced and just wanted nothing but sex, which I happily obliged.

Thing is, I knew I had used he first one, and was currently using the crap out of the second one, but I didn't care. Women had friend-zoned me for so long, and my heart had grown so cold, that I really didn't care.

Even after I met the woman who eventually became my wife, my sole purpose was preserving the sex. Love had become irrelevant.

It took a long time, but I finally learned to love the woman I had married. She's given me two great kids. If my son, who is now five, hasn't lost his virginity at sixteen, he and dad are going to take a little road trip to one of the brothels in Nevada with a fake ID. My wife is against this, but she won't know until we're already on the road and will be unable to stop us.

Losing my virginity at 30 has turned me into a selfish, hateful person. I actually cheered when Elliot Rodgers shot all those people (google it). My 20-year-old self was screaming for vengeance, and he vicariously fulfilled it. I have often dreamed of carrying out a similar act.

Even to this day, I struggle to not hate god. I haven't told anyone outside of my wife, and I never will. The shame is too great for me to tell even a therapist, and that's for wimps anyway. So I guess it will just be allowed to fester.

So, even though I have it all now, the anger, shame, and pure seething hatred of being a late virgin has never left me.