The Virginity Project

If it's all the same to you...

Following on in the general theme of retrospection, here is the cover of a rather fantastic book I recently found. When I first opened the cover, I noticed this, printed on the first page:

‘First published in May 1968
Reprinted in the same month
Third impression August 1968
Fourth impression June 1970
Fifth impression January 1973
Sixth impression (revised) June 1973’

Cruising around YouTube lately, I also unearthed this handy film:

This film has been viewed 360,563 times.

It makes you think doesn’t it?

In forty years, we have done some stuff. This might sound funny to someone of a certain age, but I still get a buzz from the fact that I have my very own telephone, one that I can pluck from the back pocket of my jeans everytime it rings. Anyone under the age of 18 will have no idea how much time I spent sitting and staring at this version that was attached to my parent’s kitchen wall. Cordless? We had to wait another ten years for that. Quite asides from the fact that I control my own fertility, (my mother had no such luxury). I can also book a flight to Paris, Copenhagen or Brussels, (on my small, neat laptop, whilst utilizing the local supply of broadband technology), for under £50 quid without leaving the house. I might even consider this, if I had more money than sense.

But some things don’t change.

‘How does sexual intercourse take place?
What do people feel like during intercourse?
What is masturbation?
What is V.D? Why is it dangerous?’

These are chapter headings from a book first published in 1968. They are also questions that are answered in this film. It doesn’t matter how far we ‘advance’ in this world. It makes no odds how sophisticated the methods by which information can be delivered become. Young people have the same questions about sex now as they did then. Go figure.

Tired but happy…

Or, part two, as we join our hero, fresh from the front line of virginity loss and a head void of worrisome mental images. I, for one, will never be able to look at a ketchup bottle in quite the same way again. As the countdown to a life changing moment began last week, we left Daniel* teetering on the edge of adult hood with some big questions. Will I hurt her? Will blood be involved? Will I even make it to the point where either of the above could be an issue? We were right there with you Daniel, every step of the way.

I think I sum up my feelings on this matter in my final comment at the bottom of this post. A lot of words have been written about the Internet over the years, particularly about the perils of pornography and the dangers to which we are potentially exposing our children. There is truth in all of them. But in this instance, a double-edged sword is a useful tool. The Internet undoubtedly has the ability to corrupt, but it also has the potential to educate. The Internet can be an invaluable source of information for people who are not able to have the conversations that a lot of us take for granted. Particularly for boys. I find it heartwarming that so many different people answered Daniel’s call for assistance. You don’t know each other, you likely won’t ever meet. But you care enough to bother throwing some useful advice in each other’s direction when it really counts. Collectively, you helped to make this a better experience for two complete strangers. That brings a warm glow to my heart.

The very excellent forum in question is called the TF Project and you can log in here.

Now, back to the action. We join Daniel, reflecting on the scene, as he takes stock of the last twenty-four hours of his life:

‘If I hadn't posed my question here, I'd likely not be thinking that a lot of people may say the first time is largely overrated, (I can totally understand this from a girl's point of view now), but when you’re feeling this good about yourself, you've got to be thinking they're dead wrong. It was brilliant. Not me, myself, but just the fact that I've finally gotten mine. Selfish that. I also had the best night's sleep that I've had in a long time last night.

All the advice, lists, tips and pointers that everyone contributed here to a question I couldn't have taken to anyone else, I'm completely appreciating, as I'd have likely ploughed into something I know relatively nothing about, and with way too high expectations. We talked a lot before hand, thanks to my collected knowledge. So again thanks for clearing things up and enlightening me on a pretty major step. Bear with me…..you don't need to read all this by any means….I just need to get it out somehow, without splagging about it in the locker room at soccer practice.

I’d been badly on edge since yesterday. As it has been advised, I had taken the matter to hand twice before meeting her that morning, until I was worrying that there'd be nothing left to perform on. Bonus….her parents were also away for the day, all day and far away, so we had time and less fears/terror of being walked in on. That in itself would be a one-way ticket back home for me. Still, the initial atmosphere was very awkward, almost like we just met.

When we eventually made the move to her room, it got a lot better. Again taking to mind and following the advice of taking time on foreplay. I just didn't want to be taking things a step faster than she was ready, or myself. I was getting pretty anxious on performance. I'm not up on the workings of the female anatomy southward so it was having her help me out in what she wanted. This was brilliant. Which led to stepping things up. I had to stave off a loss of major control to bring myself to a tolerable level just to get the frigging condom on. It was almost game over right there.

This part is daft. I wasn't sure of my aim. Like a dippit, I couldn't figure it out. It felt pretty amateurish on my part with a fair bit of fumbling about, so she took the initiative there. I was minding that I was going to be hurting her a lot and there was a moment when I lost any chance of starting. When she tensed up, I had to continue dead carefully. I felt badly and apologized between tentative shaky thrustings and asking if we should stop. Though at this point my body and mind seemed to have suffered a serious disconnection. In reality it was really hard to have to stop, but three times we regrouped and tried again. This part I'll skip over, you will be thankful for that. Because I thought impenetrable might come into the equation here…..until it did give way. I can't describe this part…. she was in a lot of pain, I tried and she wouldn’t let me stop, but I couldn't have put a stop on myself even it I'd tried. Absolutely no rhythm or pace could be reached. It felt really good for about ten seconds, which was actually a good thing for her and not so bad for myself. And there after….it was nothing like I'd ever experienced in all my right-handed ways.

But we did it!!%&$& !!

So..sorry if you're still reading this. I commend you for that. It’s off my chest now. I just want to see her again. I hope the next time her pleasure will be as good as mine. Nothing compares to it. I feel like I’m on a new level in life here. Now the mystery of it is over, I know it’s going to be an important part of my life for now. And I know it’s going to be taking us to more intimate and closer levels in our relationship.

Woohoo! A rite of passage well met! Can't seem to stop thanking you guys!’

I sent a metaphorical bunch of flowers to our protagonist…..

‘How fantastic. I am very pleased for you. Wow. I am quite overwhelmed - at the power of the Internet as much as anything! I just think its great that in this day and age, a whole bunch, of what are essentially complete strangers, were able to help you make this experience something to remember - in a good way. I am happy to have been one of them. Welcome to your sex life, a journey of many, ahem, ups and downs and ins and outs.’

And the plaudits kept pouring in…

‘It sounds like you did a fine job of it. Enjoy your explorations!’

‘Glad it went so well mate, from this point on it will only get better and better, at least that was the way for me’

‘All in all, it read like it went pretty well. Don't hesitate to ask if there is anything more you wonder about, me and the good folks in here are more than happy sharing what we know about the subject.’

‘Congrats to getting yours for both of you!’

A day’s work well done for everyone, wouldn’t you agree?

*All names changed to protect identity.

There's more than one first time...

‘Is this your bra Jane?’

That’s how the weekend started and it went downhill from there.

Downhill, I must say, to a completely new perspective.

My first ski trip comes to mind. ‘Don’t get too frightened’, my friend Mark said as we parted. Don’t get frightened? I thought, what on earth does he mean? It’s best not to dwell on what might occur as one embarks upon a challenge. Having stuck the microscope Channel 4’s James and ‘Virgin School’, I was hardly expecting my own baptism of fire by the week’s close, but there we are.

Summary:

Comfort zones left: at least five
Tender spots prodded: yup
Barriers broken through: too many to mention

The upshot?

An indelible change in one’s life - for the better.

The six people I met on Friday evening, including Jane and her bra, were quite different to the six I parted company with yesterday. If you are prepared to put your reservations aside, and I certainly did, these courses have the ability to change lives.

Namaste!

Gaining our virginity...

There are all sorts of ‘first times’. The first time we find out why access to our parent’s bedroom is occasionally blocked on a Saturday morning, Yeeuchhh! What a shocker. Then there’s the first time we get over our squeamishness and set out to demystify this invisible activity for ourselves. Could be good, could be bad. This may then segue into one of the most crushing blows ever dealt to a teenager. The first time our partner-in-virginal-crime decides he or she might like to experience ‘it’ with someone else. Ouch. No one forgets that pain.

Joe McCarthy of Gumption, via the very cool Shel Israel and his Naked Conversations, alludes to the maelstrom of thoughts and feelings that these experiences might engender in his candid March 9 post. Arming young people with the nuts and bolts, the sexual mechanics of how to get from A-B, is a great thing. And if we don’t want to tell them ourselves, there are many more fonts of knowledge from which they may drink – friends, books, the Internet, whatever. But who prepares them for how they might feel? Who tells them that the organ located between their ears is an incredibly powerful force, one that can buffet us this way and that with the sheer volume and ferocity of thoughts and emotions? We spend a lot of time at school. Might some of that time be better spent learning to harness the awesome power of our minds, or as my friend Jeff, a big fan of Cognitive Behavioural therapy, refers to it, ‘getting yourself a psychic toolbox’?

This thought brings to mind an interview with film director David Lynch I read a while ago. He is an advocate of Transcendental Meditation. Not only that but he has set up a foundation that aims to ‘ensure that any child in America who wants to learn and practice the Transcendental Meditation program can do so’. Children studying TM meditation apparently benefit not only from an improvement in academic performance, but it also helps those with high blood pressure and other stress-related disorders such as anxiety, depression and drug abuse. This is progressive food for thought.

Another suggestion comes via Hud Saunders, friend and author of West of Soho. Hud thinks that children should be taught philosophy, and upon investigation, the results are extraordinary. By encouraging the development of thinking, listening and speaking skills, pupils in a UK school demonstrated greater self-esteem and emotional awareness. The course’s aim is to empower children to take a more balanced view on life, because sometimes life does suck. Lots of things don’t turn out the way we imagine they might, the loss of our virginity being a case in point. A philosophical standpoint might teach us that the first time is only that - the very first step of a lifelong, potentially thrilling adventure.

Before I go, Joe McCarthy gives voice to another important virginity related thought that I have often asked my interviewees, he says, ‘Its interesting that virginity is always lost….what is gained? Forty-two year old interviewee, Hannah Jones * has the answer. ‘I think it should be called ‘gaining’ your virginity not ‘losing’, because it’s the most gorgeous thing to do, it’s so lovely and pleasurable, and how can that be a loss? That’s just patriarchal fifteenth century crap!’

Couldn’t have said it better myself Hannah.

*All interviewee names are changed to protect identity.

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but..

There is always a difference between the reason we tell people we are pursuing a project and the actual, deep down, nuts and bolts impetus. The motivation, the thing that gets us out of bed each morning, washes us, dresses us and sets us down in front of our computers for another days journey, in my case, through the sexual recollections of a wide range of characters.

It’s a great idea - we all lose our virginity, therefore we all have a story. Some of them are funny and some of them are sad. Others still, people have painted with detail, social mores of the day, colour and, occasionally, dimensions that younger readers might well find difficult to comprehend. The Harry’s, Dwayne’s and Sophie’s of today might have a hard time visualizing Mary Stuart, one of my first interviewees, laughing at the first sight of her naked husband on her wedding night, but the year was 1940 and despite having two older brothers, Mary had absolutely no idea what a man’s equipment looked like. There was no sex education, no MTV, no Internet, nothing in fact, to buffer young people between themselves and the consummation of marriage.

I have many reasons for pursing this project and education is definitely one of them. But what really gets me going? What pushes me on, when I have harangued all of my contacts, spent my savings and consumed everything in the fridge, bar the tube of anchovy paste and the rusty tin of tonic water?

The reply is that I, like most human beings, am innately insecure. There are questions that I need to ask - but I don’t think I am the only one who wants to know the answers. I want to know what other people really felt about having sex for the first time. Not the version that we tell our friends around the pub table but the no holds barred version. The reality, the joy, the pain, the sheer physical sensation of allowing somebody so close for the very first time. And if we take a step further toward truth, how does this one-off experience compare to our present arrangement? How good have we got?

Because we grow taller, we take exams and we achieve stuff, but how do we truly know how we measure up when it comes to sex? When you consider that we will live for an average of eighty-one years and have sex approximately seven thousand, five hundred and sixty four times (I made that bit up), it would seem a skill worth developing. Perhaps we should have report cards like at school, “Kate did really well at sex this year, her style and technique is really coming along” and “Kate has made great strides in a subject that she has found challenging at times”. Why not? We all want to know that we are improving and we all want to know that we are normal.

I am happy to report, having listened to many tales in the last year, that not only am I normal, but you are too. Obviously until I can provide you with some evidence of this, you’re going to have to take me at my word. Keep your eyes peeled and I will see what I can do.