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Why is it that men see virginity as such a challenge? A thing to take? A barrier to break?
There’s no hunting for food anymore. No searching for new lands, or running from dangerous beasts. Maybe virginity has become the final frontier for men who aren’t as connected to their masculinity as they should be.
“I guess,” I say. “Or I’ve just been unlucky with the men who’ve crossed my path.”
“Until today.” Jonas shoots me a suggestive look, wiggling his brows and biting on his full bottom lip.
“Until today,” I agree, laughing.
“So, what would it take to get you to give up the cherry, baby?” Jimmy joins his friend by hitting me with an exaggerated wink and I laugh, holding up my hands.
“Woah. Just because I’ve shared my status, doesn’t mean I’m looking for anyone to change it.”
“You’re never going to get another chance like this,” Clay jokes, resting his head against his palms, as he stretches his back; a classic alpha male posture. “I mean, look at the selection you have here. Ten decent men. Good looking. Employed. Seem to know how to treat a woman, although I guess time will tell! Packing where it counts.”
“That’s an interesting summary,” Oliver says. “What about a good sense of humor?”
“That’s it, Daddy. Hit us with the old school dating ads spiel,” Jimmy laughs.
“Very funny.” Oliver fiddles with his cuff in the way all wealthy men of a certain age do when they’re trying to convey status. I stifle a smile at the ribbing between the men and the easy going way they seem to handle each other. “Rather than listing our attributes, you could ask Allie what she’s looking for in a man.”
Clay glances from Oliver to me and tips his head to one side. “What he said.”
Wow…now I’m under pressure.
If I knew the answer to that, maybe I would have found him by now.
“I don’t know is the true answer.”
“You must have a checklist. All women do,” Theron says.
“All women? Have you surveyed them to check?” Oliver laughs.
“I just mean it’s a common thing.”
I nod, understanding his point. I’ve heard women talk like that before, folding the fingers over as they list the attributes that would make their perfect husband. Money. Status. Education. Family background. I get the need for security. I even get the need to marry up for that, to have aspirations on how children from the union will be raised. But those things by themselves have never hit a chord with me. I’m not saying that they’re not important, just that the men I’ve met who deliver on those attributes are missing something.
Can I put my finger on what it is? I’m not sure. Soul, maybe. The kind of edge that comes with having struggled a little to climb up a rung of the ladder. I need a man who can inspire me to be more, who’ll point out when I stagnate and support me to move into the more risky zone where personal progress and growth can be made. I want a man who makes me laugh, but recognizes when I need a strong emotional foundation. I need a man who’s wise but humble. A hard worker who knows the value of rest and family. Practical but poetic. An artist with his feet on the ground.
And that’s the problem. I want a man who doesn't exist.
I’ve left out the physical attributes because I don’t have a type, but it’d be nice if he took care of himself for his long-term health and fitness. The men in my family haven’t exactly kept themselves in good physical shape and it’s starting to show. When people’s main topic of conversation becomes their ailments, upcoming doctors’ appointments, and medications, something’s really wrong.
“I guess I’ll know it when I find it,” I say eventually, with a noncommittal shrug.
“That’s a cop out, if I ever heard one.” Jimmy shakes his head and I look away, feeling bad for disappointing him with my answer.
“Maybe spending time with us all will help you work it out?” Tom says.
“Maybe.” I adjust my position, stretching my legs out against the soft leather of the sofa, wishing they’d focus on anything else than me and this conversation.
“Sounds like a challenge to me.” Theron fixes me with his gunmetal eyes, the challenge smoldering with intensity, and a shiver of awareness runs through my whole body.
Dominance. The word pops into my head as Theron clicks his knuckles again, the power of his grip, and the strength of his body so close it’s palpable. Did I know that power in a man is a vital attribute for me before today? I’ve suspected it. The moment in romance movies where a man forces a woman against the wall for a searing kiss has always appealed to me. The idea of being restrained and pushed to pleasure-places I’ve never dared to dream about is what warms me most between my thighs.
There are men in this room I can feel are like that. And maybe more who have that side but don’t wear the tendency on their sleeve.
For the time it takes to blink, I consider what it might be like to let down my guard, and allow myself to explore what these men have to offer. It’d be like a taster selection at an exclusive restaurant, or a buffet at an all-inclusive hotel. Just a little sample of lots of flavors could help me work out what I really need and what I really should want.
