Born Again Virgin
Submitted by A. K. Sadoyama
It was probably around the time I was heading into the tenth year of post-divorce-no-relationship that I began referring to myself as a born-again virgin. Yes, one of my many sarcastic attempts to deflect from an obvious issue — one that I was only semi-aware of.
What I wasn’t aware of was that the “humor” I was trying to hide behind had artfully captured the whole of my truth: the religious trauma of my childhood, my intense fear of men and the heaviness of my sexual shame. “Born Again” — debatable but unquestionably ironic. A “virgin” — for sure.
I had spent the last ten years convincing myself — and anyone who questioned, commented or whispered behind my back — that I had my priorities right. As a single mom, my kids needed to come first. With the selfish behavior of their promiscuous father, they had enough to deal with and I did not need to add to that. Stability was what they needed and clearly I was the only one “mature” enough to provide that.
And so it went year after year after year. But as year ten of my celibacy rolled around and my kids were much older, that became a much harder sell — even to myself. But far from any form of genuine self-reflection, I kept trying.
Every so often the probing questions of a daring friend or the snide comment of a family member would spur…
