My young son recently asked what a virgin was. I floundered about for a bit before deciding on "It's someone who hasn't had a boyfriend or girlfriend", and instantly imagining all sorts of unspeakably embarrassing and potentially incriminating scenarios where I had to explain to the head teacher/vicar/magistrate that what he actually meant when he said he wasn't a virgin was...You get the idea. When my sister-in-law (also indoctrinated from an early age and also a fellow escapee) heard about this question she said "What were you thinking of? You should just have told him it was someone who isn't married!"
A few months go I was in Barcelona with a colleague looking at the most beautiful designer coat. It was in the sale and there was only one left. I was umming and aahing about whether to get it, arguing that I didn't need it. "What do you mean NEED?", she asked incredulously. "Do you LIKE it? Will it make you feel good wearing it?" "Yes", I replied, adding feebly "I can't help it. I'm a Baptist". It must have been an amusing scene to behold as my friend stood in the middle of Desigual, urging me in a loud voice, "Fight your Inner Baptist. Come on. Fight it and win". I did. I bought the coat and I love it. Now, whenever that little voice pipes up in my head telling me that I am 17 years old again and that I must eat quiche and not have sex I put my hands over my ears like a child and sing 'La, la, la not listening!'
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