Theoretically speaking, and we hope people are willing to suspend their disbelief as we describe a place which we cannot claim to be on Terra Firma (but we are too lazy to create a fantasy world and we haven't yet reached a consensus on science fiction), a person might adhere to biblical morality without being religious at all. Theoreticians love to contemplate unlikely scenarios.
It would be unlikely for someone to keep themself chaste in a place where mechanics and guitarists with no theory are being fought over by all the women. To be particular, that scenario is impossible without an exception. But as I have been expected to speak to people with a womb as if they are no different from me, all my life, I am, for the sake of this exercise, going to speak from my side of the Great Divide and allow the reader to make exceptions to suit themselves.
In this town there was a boy half full of theory, but having no practice, who all the women went to complain to: about their husbands, and about their boyfriends, and about other women who had stolen guitarists from them, and about mechanics who didn't know how to be faithful. In spite of this experience of women he nonetheless let himself fall in love. But this is a town in which people took their printers for a drive instead of thumping it like any repairman would do; and in this town six-year-olds who could move a mouse and click it were given cheers by everyone, without exception.
Especially the theory-boy. He had learned from past masters about love, and threw it to all the strangers; and caution to the wind. But he hadn't learned about the immiscibility of oil and water; in fact he would've denied it to the degree of bringing immiscible groups of people together time and again until he started to want to shoot himself.
His guiding principle to happiness was to steer clear of romantic love, because he didn't see his way to guiding a child of his away from the temptations which lead us into dissatisfaction, and that alone.
Which was all very well and fine until a friend of his removed his heart for the sake of the experiment.
I concede I'm not very good at making up likely scenarios. For instance, and for no reason at all, the idea of an overgrown boy being told that he has bad luck with hardware by a person whose sister could tell what song was playing in her brother's head comes to mind as forming the basis of a fantasy (or science fiction) story about GNU programmers.
Having been told by two people, once or twice, that I aught to seek professional help, I told them to fuck themselves.
Which I came to regret, betimes, late at night, when I couldn't sleep because of the thought of two people enjoying themselves as I wasn't made me think that two other people were insensitive to the third occupant of an abode.
The saying is, from the sublime to the ridiculous. If we start with the ridiculous we might find ourselves facing in the right direction: let's say that theory boy told himself, one fine day, that he'd wait until a woman he knew was ninety-nine years old, if that's what it took to have her as his wife.
As mentioned, we're unsure about science fiction, and I've decided against fantasy; I'm trying my best to keep things within the bounds of possibility; but I am a heartless theoretician, as everyone knows. A figure might distract me for a moment, but it merely requires one to ask oneself whether it is a capital one or one which prefers to rest on the baseline, to remind one of the principle (which is that lust is hatred). Doing a bit of research I discovered that a woman who has a lover, whom she is giving no practice to, might fall into the arms of another man just to see if he whinces manfully.
Which diversion, from the boy of theory who had been loving every minute of every day, is necessary in order to ourselves grasp just why he shortly came to think he was making a fool of himself around one who had captivated him.
The person (the sex of which we withhold because we are, after all, living in the year twenty-twenty-one) found herself someone to take her to meet the parents. His friends told him no woman would have a second date with a man without giving him practice. Not in that town or anywhere else.
Which gave that theoretician a problem. The result to this one is that we do not know whether he whinced manfully or not. He tended to cut through the bullshit and knew that his friends had all called his heart's desire a whore (particularly her brother). In a nice way, of course.
In this town, and places with which it was connected, it had sensibly been decided that it is nonsense to hold principles which we find ourselves incapable of keeping all the time. People talked about the bible, and we assume they looked at it. It would have been suicide for a boy to talk about morals. Girls got together, therefore, and decided what boys shouldn't do, and this was called morality.
By using the word whore I am aware that I am thus being immoral. But I've done with beating about the bush. I've done with riding bicycles up or down or in or out of the bush. In the heart of the bush a person can think to themself that a man who believes that manhood has nothing to do with practice aught to be able to make his home right there.
The theoretician gave this a lot of thought. He preferred to walk and think (we don't know if he had a car); he had received good training for thinking when emotionally disturbed, and he thus contemplated the possibilities. If he had fallen in love with a whore, she would be sure to marry one of his friends. If his friends were right, then, he had to leave them.
And that was the end of it (years later a friend dropped the hint that whether she was more or less moral than he hoped was a consideration for her husband, and him alone).