The Virginity Project

Ho ho ho...

Oh stop it. It’s Christmas. We all need a crap joke at Christmas. Correction – we all need a crap virginity loss joke at Christmas. Here it comes….

Virgin girl is on the phone and asks her boyfriend to come

over and have dinner with her parents. Since this is such a

big event, the girl announces to her boyfriend that

after dinner, she would like to go out and make love

for the first time.

* * * * * * * * *

Well, the boy is ecstatic, but he has never had sex

before, so he takes a trip to the pharmacist to get

some condoms. He tells the pharmacist it's his first time and

the pharmacist helps the boy for about an hour.

He tells the boy everything there is to know about condoms and

sex.

* * * * * * * * *

At the register, the pharmacist asks the boy how many

condoms he'd like to buy, a 3-pack, 10-pack, or family

pack. The boy insists on the family pack because he

thinks he will be rather busy, it being his first time and all.

* * * * * * * * *

That night, the boy shows up at the girl's parents

house and meets his girlfriend at the door. 'Oh, I'm

so excited for you to meet my parents, come on in!'

* * * * * * * * *

The boy goes inside and is taken to the dinner table

where the girl's parents are seated. The boy quickly

offers to say grace and bows his head.

* * * * * * * * *

A minute passes, and the boy is still deep in prayer,

with his head down.

* * * * * * * * *

10 minutes pass, and still no movement from the boy.

* * * * * * * * *

Finally, after 20 minutes with his head down, the

girlfriend leans over and whispers to the

boyfriend, 'I had no idea you were this religious'.

* * * * * * * *

The boy turns, and whispers back, 'I had no idea your

father was a pharmacist'.

* * * * * * * * *

More than a feeling?

It is only when you attempt to write about a person without mentioning their gender that you realise what a difference it makes. Gender informs and guides our every move. But does it matter when it comes to virginity loss? And are we ‘losing’ the same thing - if anything at all?

In the style of ‘Memento’, there is only one way to tell this story and that’s backwards. Its owner withholds basic detail but under gentle questioning, the layers unravel to reveal the full picture – and gender, of our storyteller.

Sam. Born 1988. Lost virginity aged 19.

‘I'm a youngster, born in 1988 in New York City. I lost my virginity on November 4th, 2007. I haven't had too much time to think about what I lost or gained but I'll explain regardless.

We were both drunk and I invited her over to my place because I was less drunk and there is no way she would have made it home at that time of night. I asked her to turn away while I put on my pyjamas because I didn't feel like walking down the hall to change. I gave her pyjama pants to change into because she asked me to and I let her crawl into bed first and wondered if I should sleep on the floor but she left me space so I crawled in under the covers. I turned off the lights and snuggled up close to her. I said something about feeling naughty and we started kissing.

I wrapped my leg around her and felt her hands all across my back and up my shirt. She kissed my neck and got on top of me. She asked me if it was OK and I said ‘yes.’ We slowly worked our clothing off and she kissed my chest and ran her hands between my thighs. She knew what she was doing. She asked me to tell her if it hurt but all I could do was gasp for breath. We took turns with oral sex and as we grinded against each other, I wondered which one of my neighbours could hear the pounding against the wall. We lay there for an hour or two afterward talking and then I fell asleep. I woke up early in the morning and she said she couldn't sleep so I walked her out.

I have to say that the sex itself was great but I'm sad that afterwards our flirting and kissing and cuddling has decreased. I think about how I don't think I satisfied her and I'm terrified of asking her whether or not I did. I know she's afraid of a relationship because she got out of an abusive relationship like 6 months ago. I also felt some guilt afterward thanks to my stupid catholic conscience.’

At this juncture, I had to write and ask ‘Sam’* the question: are you a man or a woman?

‘I'm really glad that you wrote back and I'm glad that you enjoyed my story. I purposely left out the fact that I'm female because I sometimes think it isn't really important. I completely forgot that my email address reveals my name. I guess there is much more to the story.

It all started at a party we had at my school's Queer Student Union. Alcohol was involved again and it was the first time I really paid attention to her. We were talking and our faces got closer and we embraced. For weeks after we acted like little kids. I asked her for a nickel and she'd tease me asking ‘What do I get in return?’ She asked me to help her get the DVD player to work and I would do the same, receiving kisses on the neck that made me weak and whimper. I took the train with her a couple of times and we held hands. It was cute. We'd talk about anything and everything.

One night we were both sober and we made out for a wonderfully long period of time until I remembered that my best friend was going to bring me my laptop. We got up just as I said that and my best friend walked in. It was an awkward moment but an interesting way to introduce her to my best friend.

The night of November 3rd we went to my friend's birthday party. At first we both said we didn't want to get drunk but my friend is a bastard and she never gives up the opportunity to shove a shot down your throat. Lots of drama developed and the police were on their way so those of us who are under-aged decided to leave before we got into more trouble. We walked to the train station, one thing led to another and you know the rest of the story.

We did speak about it afterwards, but only on the Internet. She asked me if I liked it and she said she enjoyed it. She especially liked the sounds I made and how I trembled all over. Last week I asked her what the heck was going on between us. I needed to know whether it was just a flirtation or whether we could be more than just friends who ‘hook up.’ She told me she was confused and that made me angry because I can't continue to get more attached without knowing what I'm getting myself into. I am trying to forget but I see her everyday and she smiles and it hurts.’

Finally, I asked ‘Sam’ how she would define the loss of her virginity. And what is it that we lose…

‘That's a really complicated question and the only thing I can really say is that I associate virginity with innocence and that I do think it is physical; however, it also involves the act of surrendering yourself. We are taught from childhood to never give up our bodies without asking for the world in return. In my loss of virginity, I fought this ideal in my heart and mind. I paid attention to the now and what I wanted instead of paying attention to what people told me to do.

I do think that having virginity is harder than not because at least now I don't have the ideal in my head fucking with me. I know what sex is and it doesn't seem as overwhelming as it did before. As for culture, I am a Dominican American. Latin American families don't generally talk about sex. It's just a subject we sort of ignore. My sister has a three-month rule before she has sex with anyone she is dating. I kind of believe in waiting but I got caught up in the moment.

What did I leave behind…my innocence? I don’t think so. I still feel fairly innocent. I'm young and I made a decision to share my body with someone. I'll always have doubts on whether I was too young or too drunk but it's done with and the only thing I know is that for now, I feel bad about the results but I definitely want to have more sex in the future because it's quite the feeling.’

*All names changed to protect identity.

Like Mother, Like Daughter?

Christmas has come early. The Virginity Project is almost hyperventilating with excitement. A while back I came up with the bright idea of asking favourite writers to guest on ‘The Virginity Project’. The brief was flexible. Write about virginity loss. Yours, someone else’s, the cat’s, I really don’t mind but let loose with a piece of paper and a pen and tell me what you come up with.

My top two dream choices were Will Self and Drunk Mummy. All I can say is: one down and one more to go. Drunk Mummy is in the house. My house to be exact and I am honoured. I am a big fan of Drunk Mummy’s. Or I was until she stopped blogging - a sad day indeed for us all, but she’s not called ‘mummy’ for nothing. She has commitments asides from entertaining the likes of you or I.

The good news is this. When I asked her to write this post, her response was just a littttttle too quick. I think she misses us. I think those wine-glass-holding hands are a-twitch. Don’t expect the silence to last forever. She could have something up her sleeve.

Meanwhile, Drunk Mummy has rather telepathically selected a subject that I had been pondering myself of late. I am not a mummy, (nor am I drunk), but one day I might be and I have often wondered this. Bearing in mind one’s own stupidity as a teenager, how on earth do you deal with the thorny subject of your children’s virginity when you know exactly what they are going through? It’s a knotty old matter and one to which I will return, but for now, I will let DM take the mic and entertain you.

When you’re done, I suggest you log onto her blog and read a fine back catalogue of work. Perhaps whilst knocking back a glass of something. I will follow suit with a pink glass of Laurent Perrier in my hand. It’s not on offer anywhere and it costs an arm and a leg. Priceless, in fact - just like Drunk Mummy....

'Next year, it will be 25 years since I lost my virginity. Maybe I should celebrate with a programme of Silver Jubilee events. Perhaps I could organise a street party complete with flags, or get the kids to paint me my very own celebration mug?

Well, there’s a slight problem with that, and it’s not the obvious one to do with trestle tables, or finding bunting which proclaims ‘Twenty Five F**king Years’. You see, I have talked to my three children about how babies grow inside the mummy’s tummy, and even explained to the horrified faces how the baby gets out. However, I must confess to having blurred over the mechanics of how the daddy’s seed actually comes into contact with the mummy’s egg, (I may try the doughnut and éclair analogy, but I could risk putting them off cream cakes for life).

When they finally link the clinical facts of insemination with the intimate act that enables it, then I will struggle to keep the balance between information and personal privacy:

‘Yes, Daddy and I have done that.’
‘Actually, we’ve done it more than three times.’
‘No, it isn’t disgusting.’
‘Yes, I have done it with someone else, before I met Daddy.’
‘No, I wasn’t trying to make a baby.’
‘You won’t feel like that when you are older.’

Throughout her short life, my eldest child has been forced to listen to me relating countless stories beginning, ‘When I was your age….’ and encompassing topics as diverse as school, friends, music, films and sport. These tales are always presented as misty-eyed nostalgia, but they are actually subliminal lectures, and not very subtle ones at that. Despite needing very little prompting to climb up on my soapbox, I can’t imagine ever delivering one of these sermons on the subject of losing my virginity. It is just too personal for me to share with any of my children. Somehow I need to keep that part of my identity free from the suffocating sanctity of motherhood.

However I fear that it is only a matter of time before the level of parental interference in the lives of our children reaches such neurotic intensity that it will be considered normal, essential even, that I pass on such details. When my daughter is ready to take that first tentative step into adulthood, it may be standard practice for over-protective parents to write a small note to their child’s first sexual partner, explaining in advance that her performance may be a little below par because she’s had a cold recently, and has been off her food for a few days.

So, if my dystopian view is correct, and I am forced in future years to sacrifice even more of my privacy upon the altar of ‘good parenting,’ I would imagine that the conversation might go something like this:

Now, darling, sit down for a minute. I just want to talk to you about something…

Yes, please do take out your earpiece.

I notice that you’ve been getting quite, erm, close to young Nathan, sorry, Ethan, of late, and I just thought that maybe we should have a little talk together. Woman to woman. Sex and stuff.

No need to roll your eyes like that. I thought I would tell you about when I lost my virginity, so you can learn from my experience…

Don’t be so dramatic; of course you’re not going to be sick. Informed choice, that’s what it’s all about these days…

No, it’s not too much information.

Let’s start with contraception, because that’s what I certainly did. There’s no reason why you or your friends should ever have recreational sex without contraception. You have much easier access to it than I did when I was young. You can choose from pills, condoms, diaphragms, coils, erm what else…

Yes, yes, spermicides too…

Yes, female condoms, although they’re a bit like freezer bags…

What? Can you get the morning-after pill from a chemist now?

Without a prescription?

Really?

Well, I was taking contraceptive pills before I had sex for the first time - I was very conscientious about avoiding unwanted pregnancy…

Well, avoiding sexually transmitted diseases wasn’t such a big deal back then…

I know, I know, it was ridiculous.

Anyway, I was nineteen when I lost my virginity…

What’s so funny about that?

Well, I was a bit older than my friends, but that meant I was able to learn from their mistakes, and to study the theory of intercourse before I ever did any practical so to speak. There was much less blatant sexual imagery back then. We didn’t have all these girl bands thrusting their way through pole-dancing routines. The closest I got to any sexual imagery in my parents’ living room was Pan’s People shaking their pom-poms on Top of The Pops. If someone told you they were ‘hot’ you would open a window.

You see, losing your virginity when you are older can be a good thing. You are better informed, and therefore you are more likely to enjoy sex. I mean, you never hear anyone say ‘I wish I’d had more awkward, anxious teenage sex’ do you?

Well, Sophie’s mum was probably just joking when she said that. Anyway, why was she out clubbing with you?

Now, when I was growing up, female virginity was still regarded as some sort of precious gift, which women chose to bestow or withhold. Giving away this ‘gift’ too easily diminished the allure and respectability of a young woman.

However, a man who accepted this ‘gift’, and similar ‘gifts’ from other women, only gained in status and reputation.

Yes, of course it was a shocking double standard, and obviously the whole ‘gift’ thing was based on a fantasy. If losing my virginity at nineteen was ‘bestowing a gift’ then it felt like I was ridding myself of one of those hideous colourful sweaters that your Gran knits. I knew I really should value it more, but giving it away was actually a huge relief from embarrassment.

Anyway, I finally got the chance to free myself from my virginity when I was at university and living away from home…

Oh, he was just someone I knew. A friend. I can’t even remember his full name…

No, I wasn’t in love with him at all…

Well, maybe it would have been preferable to have lost my virginity to someone I loved. It certainly would have made a better story. But it did make me realise early on that sex and love can be mutually exclusive…

It might sound unromantic, but I hope you don’t ever confuse the two, or feel that in order to keep the love of some spotty youth; you have to use sex as a bargaining tool…

No, I’m not saying that Nathan….Ethan, would ever make you feel like that…

Yes, yes, he does have lovely skin.

Look, don’t sulk. I’ll tell you something else about the first time I had sex. In all honesty, I thought it was really funny. Despite all my carefully gathered information, nothing had quite prepared me for the comedy potential of the sexual act. Even now, I frequently have the urge to laugh during intercourse, much to your Dad’s dismay…

Sorry, sorry. Yes that possibly is too much information.

Just let me refill my glass here.

Of course, recreational drugs seem to play a much bigger part now in young people’s early sexual experiences, but I hope you would never be so irresponsible. Drugs can loosen your inhibitions and make you do something you might regret…

Well, I wouldn’t say I was stone cold sober when I lost my virginity. I’d probably had a few pints of cider and Cherry B I suppose, but that was a normal Saturday night back then. It wasn’t as if I was so drunk that I couldn’t remember the details the following day…

Yes, I talked to my close friends about it afterwards. I used to tell them everything, just like you do with your friends, although I didn’t have a MySpace page. I certainly wouldn’t have posted that sort of information on it if I had. Neither would I have videoed the whole event on my phone and downloaded it onto YouTube, or joined a Facebook group called something like ‘Slags and Slappers’ as a nod to post-feminist irony, and then faced the prospect of publication in a national newspaper…

Why not? Well, it was all a bit more private in those days.

I mean, my mother would never have dreamed of having this sort of conversation with me when I was your age…

What do you mean, ‘Lucky you’?

Touched for the very first time...

It’s all about virginity loss. Or is it?

When I began this project I was like a dog with a bone. We all lose our virginity and I couldn’t wait to get out there, wrestle a few subjects to the ground and ‘listen’ to the stories. Well, I have. I continue to. And I love it. I love listening to the episodes in people’s lives that are imprinted into our psyches like hot wax into a seal. The moment itself could be as dull as dishwater but it doesn’t matter because the beauty is in the detail and the connective tissue of emotions that frame this unique story.

‘You never fall in love like you do when you’re eighteen. Shot though the heart. I’ll have that again, any day of the week.’ Russell, lost virginity aged 17

Virginity loss is the backdrop to a thousand visceral teenage moments…

‘For me, the first hands-down-the-pants experience was far more significant. That was earth shattering. I mean, there is a hole there. How bizarre is that?’ Tim, lost virginity aged 16

Virginity loss is the swing door between child and adulthood. A door that we all want to push…even if we’re unsure of what we may find on the other side….

‘It was a pivotal moment, not only because I lost my virginity but also because it was a first taste of freedom, of what life could be like out in the big wide world and it was totally thrilling’. Heidi, lost virginity aged 15

In a Carrie Bradshaw moment of contemplation recently, I got to thinking. What happens if you never got around to having a ‘first time’? Or even a second or third time? What happens if you don’t actually have a sex life at all? Because believe me, it does happen. My inbox will attest to this. There are a whole lot of people in this sex sodden world that can’t, won’t or don’t have sex. They are sidelined, different, square pegs in round holes, whatever you want to call them, my inbox is full of people with no place else to go.

In the old days it wouldn’t have mattered because nobody talked about sex. It wasn’t on page 3. It wasn’t even on the top shelf. It was alluded to. In the words of one of my interviewees, ‘My grandmother used to buy ‘Woman’s Own’ and we got a lot of information from reading the problem pages despite the fact that the problems were never spelt out. We had to do an awful lot of reading between the lines to guess what they were talking about.’

It’s not like that now. Talking about our sex lives is virtually an Olympic sport. Sex is everywhere and as such, we have a ‘keeping up with the Jones’s’ type situation on our hands. A sex life is a bit like a new house or a car. We all want to know if ours is as good as the next person’s. Is it as fast, shiny and fabulous as my neighbours? Do the posh curtains reflect the reality of what lies behind them? (Quite possibly not), and if it isn’t up to par, can I trade it in for a new one?

It’s all about the sex. The quality, the quantity, the ups and the downs, the literal in’s and the outs. Ok, I’m done with the metaphors and I fear I am driving this car in another direction but my point is this: Is it necessary to have sex in today’s society and is there something wrong with you if you don’t?

Of course, one must differentiate between those that have tried and didn’t want to buy and the ones that never even got to first base. I was looming around the toaster the other morning. For anyone who knows me, this is my edible version of the water cooler. The toaster always has the answers – and food. As I smeared butter and marmite over two lucky pieces of bread, a work colleague suddenly confided in me. ‘I’m not really bothered about sex at all. I’m quite happy with a cuddle. If I never had sex again, I wouldn’t be that fussed’.

I almost choked on my breakfast. She is twenty-five, healthy and engaged to be married. Is there something wrong with her? I can’t say. I am not a scientist but it wasn’t something that she wanted to shout about. Why would you? Everything in today’s society pushes women towards the idea of being sexy – and sexy equals having sex. Admitting you don’t have sex is virtually akin to being a non-functioning member of the human race.

We can ask questions. Is her relationship as it 'should' be? How does her future husband feel about this? Does he even know? And why do we care so much? People posses varying degrees of sex drive. Some people want to have a lot of sex and some people don’t. It probably is that simple but we still want to dig a little deeper and ask what is really wrong with a person who could have a lot of sex - but chooses not to. Women after all, are the only species on the planet with a body part dedicated solely to the pursuit of pleasure.

I fear I am asking more questions than I can answer. Modern life is complicated and I sometimes wonder if the proliferation of sex in today’s society has created more questions than it can answer. Older generations had less expectation for their lives but modern life commands us to ‘have it all’ – careers, families and oodles of sex. Excuse the pun but life can be a juggling act and sometimes a ball has to be dropped.

For those who don’t get past first base, religion is often a barrier and guilt is another. Sometimes both at the same time. But we can’t blame everything on religion. The number one enemy of virginity loss is the C word - confidence - and lack of. Like anything else in life, the longer you take to get around to something, the bigger deal it becomes. The unknown can begin to assume scary proportions and before you know it, you’ve got a low-grade phobia standing in your way. I see it all the time. As the days, months and years tick by; people feel they have been excluded from a race that everybody else seems to be winning. Can they ever catch up?

With guts and determination, anything is possible. Check the story I posted on the 21st of October. Its an extreme example but its owner was a sixty year old man who lost his virginity FOUR years ago, so no. It’s never too late and if it makes you feel any better, you are not alone. There are so many people out there who have never had sex. It’s just that you’re not wearing badges advertising the fact. I recently got this email from Lisa* in the States:

‘I see the majority of your project has to do with collecting stories on people losing their virginity. My problem is little different. I am a virgin who is looking for a male virgin to have a long-term relationship with which will hopefully lead to a sexual relationship that is based on love and not just the physical act. Some people try to advise me to go church to meet someone, but that's the thing: I'm not Christian. I'd consider myself agnostic.’

Frustrated with her own visibility and that of other virgins, she has decided to take action:

Several days ago I set up a simple forum for virgins seeking virgins.In my willingness to try to be more inclusive, I'm not completely against people joining who are coming from a religious stance with their virginity. However, as I have explained to more than one person, it seems like there are many dating websites our there for Christian singles and other religious persons. I wanted to take this in a more non-religious slant.

If you'd still like to mention the forum that I set up, here it is:

http://virginseekingvirgin.yourbb2.com/.

I saw Donny Deutsch on TV yesterday talking about how men should use business strategies in their personal lives in order to find someone special. ‘Have a plan and don't wait for things to just happen.’ I'm smart enough to know that when it comes to something so imprecise as picking the right time, place, and person to fall in love with, making a plan isn't always going to work. But the idea that I took from that is this: you have to make yourself visible. I figure, if people can ask for things like a BDSM relationship on an Internet ad, why should I feel weird about asking for a virgin relationship?’

Here, here. I concur, and I am back where I began. I began to collect stories about virginity loss but along the way, I learnt just as much about life, longing and love from the people who don’t have sex as the ones who do. It isn't all about virginity loss. No matter who you are or what you are, all your stories have their place and their purpose. Sexuality isn’t all about having sex and life is so much more than just a series of milestones.

*All names changed to protect identity.

The Love Parade...

Angst, hope, fear and joy. You can always rely on good old virginity loss to deliver such a jaw juddering compilation of human emotion. Wars may be won and dictatorships may fall, but taking the giant leap into adulthood will always be scary - guaranteed. Out here in the rest of the world, however, there is no such luck. Sands are shifting, gender is bending and ordinary people everywhere are still trying to work out what it is we should be doing.

The tension replicates itself everytime a helpful gent opens a door for me. For a split second the fear is palpable as his eyes lock on mine, his arm starts to shake and....he panics. 'Shit! I've just made the most terrible mistake. I forgot. Women open their own doors now. OMG! She looks murderous.......aarrrRRRRRGGGGGHHHH'. Sound of heels being turned, swiftly followed by door slamming in face.

Just for the record, I have no issue with door opening. But I do get the dilemma. There's a whole load of argy-bargy going on out here as we dance the strange dance of trying to work out where we all stand. It used to be so simple. Not any more. In the words of a young woman I interviewed recently, 'we’re just going mental, aren’t we? We’re taking over.’

We are. Oh look. We have.

There are details to work out its true, but on the whole, most of us are leading lives that our grandmothers wouldn’t recognize. But where does that leave the male of the species? Confused is what. Birth control got the ball rolling, and it pretty much hasn’t stopped since. We earn money, we rule roosts and we generally dance to the beat of our own drums. Literally. Ever heard of DIY? The two boys walking behind me in Cavendish square the other night certainly had. Let me refresh your memory:

Posh boy one: (Talking about mutual female work colleague), ‘Don’t you think she’s just really blaaddy hot? I do, but she obviously masturbates wayyyyyyy too much!’

Posh boy two: ‘Yah, she's just not having the cock is she? She’d much rather go home and masturbate. But she’s still blaaady hot!!’

What? I wanted to know, was all that about?

Well, boys and girls, I think I might have figured it out. Beneath the joviality of two happy ‘hoorays’ out for a jocular night of ‘penis jousting’ - their words, not mine, I believe we may have arrived slap bang at the centre of a very sore spot.

Men are petrified that they are surplus to requirements. Think about it. All the signs are there. Women do not require the presence of a man any more than they need another area of their body that requires hair removal. We are self-sufficient. Heck, we don’t even need men for pleasure any more. ‘Female’ and ‘masturbation’ were two words that didn’t often appear together until relatively recently, at least in public. But they do now and there’s no turning back. Women have found their power, and they’re not afraid to use it.

And how about babies? Worried about replication? Don’t!! Our new found earning power can buy us all the sperm we need - bringing with it a whole new meaning to the words ‘grow your own’. Just imagine. No fuss, no muss and no more pesky ‘relationships’ to navigate. Babies bred without the addition of an actual man. There is it. Fear with a very real basis. Welcome to our brave new world.

Or not. Men are so much dimmer than I thought.

It’s never, ever going to happen - and I’ll tell you why. Never in a month of Sundays will we fall out of love....with love. We live for it, we breathe for it and our lives depend on it. There is not a cat in hells chance that women will ever get bored of men. Hello? Hormones!! The urge to build a nest and sit in it will never cease. We have been hardwired this way since the dawn of time.

Men might become house-husbands and women will likely take over the world, but partnership will always be the name of the game no matter how many girls find new ways to ‘entertain’ themselves whilst the likes of you lot get your acts together. Although I suspect that in the case of our two lovable toffs, the line that launched a thousand books might be more appropriate: ‘he’s just not that into you’. Stick an ‘S’ on the front of that quote dears, and we might be scratching the surface of truth.

Whatever. Some things will never go out of fashion and love, my friend, is one of them. Worry not gentlemen. The future is not orange. It is red, it is heart shaped and it’s rhythmic beat is coming to a town near you – soon!!!