...what an achievement! As an avowed celibate and adherent of VHEMT (
www.vhemt.org) I can think of no better way to leave nothing behind you when you go. No progeny of mine will be slaves to the New World Order, whatever form it takes. No progeny of mine will be taken away from me by a misandrous feminist divorce court system and taught to hate their "deadbeat dad". No progeny of mine will have to watch the Earth slowly but surely turning into a poisonous, overheated industrial wasteland.
But you can still have sex and not have kids, right? Well, sure you can, but how then do you know you don't have kids? Remaining a virgin is the only way to be absolutely sure. I KNOW I don't have kids because I've never had sex. And I don't intend to. I've now made it past my 40th birthday, and you know what? The last five years were the hardest! Why? Well, when I was a young computer geek, all the girls avoided me and I was pretty much left alone to do my programming and 3D-modelling and all the things I was really interested in. But once I got past thirty-five, all these pre-menopausal body-clock time-bombs started hitting on me, and do you know how difficult it is for a man to turn down an avid woman and NOT look like a complete a*hole? Yet, for me, that's the whole point of the game.
What floats my boat is that lovely little spinal thrill of self-empowerment I get when a woman gives up trying to get me interested and goes off to look elsewhere - WITHOUT feeling slighted. Especially since I seem to come across as something of a warm, understanding person to them - I listen to their problems, I offer sympathy not advice, I treat them with the same respect and courtesy with which I treat any friendly person. As long as there's no sex. Quite a few appreciate that aspect, too - my female friends know they can talk to me with no fear of me hitting on them. The problems start when a woman realises I'm, er, not exactly struggling to make ends meet, and that she's nearing her uterine use-by date, and starts giving me The Look (and other non-verbal signals) - then I have to douse her fire as quickly and kindly as possible. And that's the hard part. Having a woman spit her dummy and call me gay before storming off in a huff is not a win. Having a woman depart with her dignity intact and glad she met someone she could talk to - that's a win. That's when I get my rush! In a world where men will generally do handstands to get laid, where any man who doesn't get sex (voluntarily or otherwise) is mocked at by his fellows - my own sense of self-worth and inner strength stems from my ability to refuse sex with no regrets.
Yes, I'll gladly die a virgin. I brought nothing with me when I came. And I'll leave nothing behind me when I go.