Quality guys are like four-leaf clovers: you may find one by accident, but you probably won’t. I used to hunt with my girlfriends at bars, house parties, gallery openings, etc. but that always led to dead-ends. I’d bag what seemed like a nice boy but then some trashy Facebook-related quarrel would ensue (now it’s Twitter) or I’d discover his romantic side was crippled from too much online porn or he’d claim his life was “complicated” and he was “too confused to commit” (as if he were the only one with doubts) or he’d spring an “I haven’t gotten over her yet” cliché when things got intimate or it’d be apparent he only wanted an easy lay with an easy way out, which is what all boys’ excuses amount to. (You may as well know this now: My name is Trisha, I’m 23, and I’m a virgin. I’ll do everything else—you almost have to nowadays—but only the right guy gets to plant his flag into my South Pole. I’ve heard it 1000 times: “It’s twisted,” “You’re giving boys access to the wrong portal,” blahblah, but I just have my way of doing things. Some things are sacred, others aren’t. And, no, I don’t have Christian hang-ups about preserving premarital virginity. I’m just quirky :)). In 2008 I thought I’d try the online scene. Soon I was virtually dating a dozen boys (ego boost) though I had to weed out some freaks who’d start instant messaging about their penises after the first ten minutes. It was mostly platonic but some included webcam stripteases (firsthand advice: ensure your head is off-screen unless you want to come across your face on an amateur site). But it wasn’t until early 2009 that I finally decided to go real world with a virtual boy.