As the last virgin standing I must put forth my position on the matter. Some sexed earlier than others and yet they all fall one by one. Some by friends, some by dating partners, some by spouses but in the end, its all the same. I remain monastic as they united themselves one to another. Its sorta like that feeling when you are the last one tagged in tag. Or the last one hit with the dodge ball. It is all at once a source of pride and of aloneness. And its not like people haven't tried tagging you or that there aren't any balls flying about. Its not even that you haven't grown tired of the chase or the dodge. Its just that the game seems important enough not just to quit. In the end, its not the favor of my fellow elementary school classmates that I seek. Nor is it the joy of victory. Winning is as lonely as it is fulfilling. Its all about seeing the smile on the face of the gym teacher who knew you could do it in the first place. So I keep ducking and weaving, sprinting and side-stepping. Just as there seems to be a large community of those in the biblical "know", there also seems to be the reluctant remnant of pious purists who won't trade their brown hooded robes for jeans and a t-shirt. I won't trade my thick rope for a brown belt. I won't grow out my bald spot or put lotion on my dried out eyeballs. No, as the license plate almost says, "Virginity is for Lovers." Monasticism is the way. Until that fateful day when its not. And I am bound to another. That beautiful day when "I'm IT" and my groin swells from the impact of the 30 mile and hour volley/dodge ball which folded me over and dropped me to the floor. Aloneness fades as does victory into the hodgepodge of being "out" and rubbing shoulders with the community in the "know." That great day of anonymity and defeat. Yet until then, I chant my hymns, keep my head up and run like hell.