I was a 29-year-old virgin. Writing a column on sex and relationships helped me find my husband.

• I was a 29-year-old virgin who turned her quest for love into a dating blog.
• Tired of waiting for my fairy tale to happen, I created my own.

In 2003, armed with an MFA in performance, I moved to New York City ready to embark on a career in the creative arts.

I moved into an all-women residence — having attended all-women schools, I was drawn to the idea of reliving some of those moments with shared meals and activities.

It was also the only way I could find an affordable place in Gramercy with key access to the exclusive park.

Two weeks after I moved into my 13th-floor closet-sized room, the Northeast blackout of 2003 hit. For the next five days I found myself in the top-floor common room of my new home with a dozen fellow residents bingeing "Sex and the City" episodes until the batteries in all our devices died.

Unlike the characters in the show, I was a virgin in her late 20s. Little did I know that the show would open doors to my writing career and later help me find my husband.

It felt like a setup for a joke

I had never really watched the show, which was embarking on its final season. But with this sudden boon of free time, it didn't take me long to get caught up on episodes.

A few weeks later, at an audition for an on-air host position, I was thrilled when a casting director asked me to describe which "Sex and the City" character I was. Of course, I said Carrie — although, unlike Carrie, I was a 27-year-old virgin doing very little to update her sexual status.

But I was old-fashioned and wanted my first time to be with someone I loved. I hadn't survived decades of cystic acne, jaw surgeries, and depression to "just have a few margaritas and get it over with," as my friend's cousin had suggested.

I decided to do something about it

A few days after my 29th birthday, with no updates on the sex front, I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands.

I pitched a column about a 29-year-old virgin looking for her first love: "No Sex and the City."

The senior editor loved it, and the magazine wanted to move forward with a blog dedicated to my search. It threw a ton of resources behind my virgin venture, including hiring a dedicated public-relations person, allowing me to pick out some goodies from the swag closet, and conducting an online poll where readers got to choose who I would go out with next.

I even flew to Disneyworld and rode Big Thunder Mountain with one of my blind dates.

I'd rush home or back to my hotel room and share on the blog all the details of each date. Even when I wanted to give up or lost hope, the readers were always there to cheer me on, provide support, and, in some cases, offer dating suggestions.

I was a writer who knew that a story with a hook always sold

I wasn't some doe-eyed virgin — I was an aspiring writer and comedian who knew this would provide endless material.

But through this process — which almost included a reality show and book deal — I found true love. My husband and I just celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary, and in May 2020 we welcomed our second baby via gestational surrogate, because I'd had a wee bit of breast cancer in there to keep life extra interesting.

If it weren't for that show, I wouldn't have been tempted to get out of my comfort zone and pursue my own New York City dating experience. I got to be my own version of Carrie Bradshaw. And sure, my adventures weren't always full of revelry and romance — but because of writing the blog and putting myself out there, my life is fuller than I could have ever imagined.