Once I started looking, I was surprised by what I found. I saw imperfectly concealed sadness, the eyes of little boys who had slept their way out of childhood and family, who never found a way into a new family with children of their own to reclaim the innocence that they'd had to forsake. Some of these men, I think, hoped to recover the lightheartedness from sheer proximity to virgin women, even while they despaired of ever deserving such a woman for themselves. In my own personal encounters with these men, I have often had the startling feeling of being a lot more grown up than they were. Their post-chaste problem refuses to be ignored.
Sexuality grips the imagination so because life and death are wrapped up in it.
Rightly fulfilled, it creates humanity in both the lovers and their children. Abused, it kills not only physically but spiritually as well. And now look at the fallout. No one ever taught them the meaning of masculinity. No one ever challenged their foolish, boyish ways and forced them to prove that they were really men.