Virgin

"You never take anyone home," Eric stated, "Not even saying it as a joke, honey, you're still a virgin."

Eric was one of my closest friends, whom I met back in middle school. We bonded over ditching class and getting drunk in empty parks. Sometimes, we sneaked into our homes while our parents were away at work and smoked their stash. Eric was tall and athletic, his copper skin with tattoos accentuating his muscles. His slanted eyes were beautifully angled, and his voice was soft and smooth, almost hypnotic. His thick, dark brown hair was slightly wavy and long enough to tuck behind his ears.

"Honey," I retorted, "Just because I don't take dick as you do doesn't mean I'm not open to it."

"First off, I give it, not take it," he held up his right hand while counting off, "Second of all, if that were true, you would be with that tall, dark, and handsome man instead of me."

I shook my head, and my mouth opened in a feeble attempt to respond, but only sounds came out. Eric mimicked me as he placed a full glass of champagne in my hand. I sat there on my black leather sofa and took another gulp. How am I supposed to explain this to him? How am I meant to explain this when I cannot interpret it? I finished my glass drink while trying to gather my thoughts.

" I honestly don't know why I still am. It's not like I haven't had the chance; I feel nothing about sex."

Eric filled up my glass and gave me a quizzical brow, " What does that even mean? Like internally? Emotionally? Physically? "

" I wish I knew myself, but that's the best way I can word it," I sighed before taking another big drink. Whenever I kiss someone, I feel nothing at all. No "spark," or however you call it. Take the guy from earlier," I started. He was handsome, tall, clean, and smelled very nice, but I didn't care when he kissed me."

"Didn't care; He's not my type, or it meant nothing to you?" he asked.

"I don't know, both?" Before drinking some more to muster the courage, I guessed, " When he kissed me, I wondered how come his tongue is all over my teeth, and excess saliva is all over my mouth, and I feel like he's giving me a cleaning."

Eric's eyes expanded as he consumed the contents of his glass in one shot. "So you felt nothing at all when he kissed you?"

"Yes," I answered, " I don't know why, but it's been this way for as long as I can remember."

"Have you only ever kissed men?" he questioned before drinking more, "Say if the situation presented itself and you could kiss a female, would you? You feel nothing with men and haven't even contemplated finding women attractive?"

I paused. Would I? The thought had never even crossed my mind before.

"Have you ever looked at a woman and glanced more than a few times? Maybe she had a nice body? Her eyes were catching yours? " he continued.

" I mean, I'm not against trying it," I answered before placing my glass and taking the bottle, " You think that's what it could be?"

Eric sat silently for a moment, thinking. I could tell he was generating scenarios and comparing and contrasting. He seized the bottle from my grasp and took a swig. " I don't have the answer; only you do."

"That's helpful," I retorted.

"Maybe once you get off, you'll realize what sex is all about," he continued, "You don't just have to take it until he's satisfied. Learn how to satisfy yourself."

" I already do," I stated before drinking more champagne.

He froze momentarily and shook his head in confusion before looking, almost choking on the champagne, "What?"

"You know how free-spirited my parents were when I was a teenager. My Mom bought me a toy and one day, I got drunk off of their homemade wine, and I used it," I forced out before drinking more," It was just a tiny vibrator, not a full-blown dildo."

For the first time tonight, he was speechless. When they were both older, my Mom was 45; my Dad was 50. My Mom was a very free-spirited, easy-going woman who loved everything about mother nature and was holistic. She said the more natural, the better, and she taught me to be myself and never change for anyone. My Dad loved me unconditionally and always defended me even when I was wrong. Even though he isn't here, he's still my biggest hero. He taught me to always stick up for myself and never walk. Unfortunately, they both passed away in a car accident when I was 17 years old, and just like that, my heart broke. Even though I was older, learning to love and care for myself was challenging without turning to them.

"Maybe that's the problem," he finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry. Weren't you saying that's what I was missing?"

"Yes, but why do you need a man or a woman for that? No need to try when you can do it in less than a minute."

I sat lost in thought. Was Eric right? I have gotten myself off many times over the past several years whenever I needed it. I didn't care to give someone a chance because I relied on myself.

" I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think you're right."

"I usually am," he nodded, "So there's a simple solution to this entire situation. Give it to me."

"Excuse me? Give what to you exactly?"

"Give me your vibrator."

"What?"

"You're not going to fight me on this one."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, you want to know why? You just said I was right."

"That's so not cool nor fair."

"It never is. Now give it here."

"Fine, I'll find something else to entertain me."

I got up with a grunt of frustration as I walked over to my bed. It was a California king bed with crimson sheets and a black fur throw. As I made my way around, I stopped at my nightstand and slid open the drawer, almost forcing myself to grab what was inside. Making my way back over with a toy in hand, I came to an epiphany.

"You know I have enough money to buy hundreds more?"

He sat there with a grim line on his lips before looking around my loft, and I could see that I was right in his eyes. When my parents passed away, they had money left behind in their savings, which became mine by default. This loft was lovely, with hardwood floors, a stainless steel bar with matching stools, and black marble tops for the finish, and the best part was the view of the city. It was beautiful. There was a sense of warmth and comfort when walking into this place. Something I thought I lost with my parents a long time ago.

"You're right. You could," Eric responded, "Or you can have some willpower and try."

Why does he always manage to do this? Did he always have to be rational? Unwillingly, I held my hand out and gave it to him before grabbing another bottle of champagne from the freezer.

"Nice and cold," I stated before popping the cork.

"This better be clean," he said. I glanced over at my best friend, and we started laughing uncontrollably. Asshole.