The Virginity Project

The love that dare not speak its name..

There’s a first time for everything. So goes the title at the top of this blog and I never realised at the time how true that was. When I started to blog, I intended to talk only about virginity loss but along the way, I realised that a. we might get bored and b. there are all sorts of first times. This has been a recurring theme ever since.

When you ask anyone about their first time, they can usually pinpoint the moment at which they lost their technical virginity….but ask them about the first time that they actually enjoyed having sex and that’s another story altogether. Occasionally these two momentous events conspire to collide with each other but not very often. Take it from me.

Except for today. Today’s storyteller lost his technical virginity when he was seventeen. But fast-forward a few years to his twenties when he had the experience that he considers to be his genuine loss of virginity. This was the first time he did what he felt he should be doing – having a relationship with a man.

This story is a departure for another reason. It is one of the stories from my book that never quite made it. I recorded this interview myself sitting across the kitchen table from Dave, one of many brave friends who agreed to be a guinea pig back at the start of this project. My interviewing skills weren’t all that but it didn’t matter because this story tells itself. It’s an absolute cracker for all sorts of reasons but for me, the magic lies in the last sentence and his very personal declaration about virginity loss: 

'I think it has affected me, I hadn’t actually consciously thought that before now, but it’s changed me. It has defined how I have sex.'

I shall leave you with that powerful thought. And as ever, if you'd like to make any comments on it, be my guest.

Dave Heart.  Born 1967. Lost virginity aged 18 and 21.

The first sexual encounter I had with a girl was on a train station and it’s a bit crude but it was the first time I’d actually tried to use my hands and I couldn’t find it!  She was like, ‘What are you doing?’ and then the train came, thank god.  It was a nightmare. Bracknell Train Station at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night.  Dark, raining and I’ve got my hand up this girl’s skirt and I didn’t want to do it, I just felt like I should do it.

I knew I was gay when I was fourteen years old because I used to masturbate over boys.  I never told anyone, I kept it all inside. I remember the first gay character on EastEnders. My mum was like, ‘That’s disgusting’. I remember sitting there thinking, oh my god, that’s me. My parents have totally accepted me as gay now but sex didn’t rear its head at all in my family.  No, it was a case of any sex on TV, any naked bodies, and my mum would be shouting, ‘Turn it over George. Turn it over!’ at my dad.

I used to have these secret fantasies in my head with blokes I was supposed to be friends with.  One in particular, Chris, was gorgeous in every way. Fantastic personality, fit body, we used to go to the gym together but he never knew how I felt. I used to sit and watch him through the smoky steam room air.  I’d have my girlfriend there with me but I didn’t exude any of the signs of being gay. It was such a weird situation.

No one had any idea that I was actually still a virgin either. The word was bandied about a lot, almost as an insult, ‘Oh so and so is a virgin’, especially if they were not very good looking. I never got called a virgin but I was one. I always had girlfriends and I always had the best looking girls as well.  The problem was with the girls themselves. They would want to have sex with me and I was the one that was always making the excuses, so I would just have to dump the girl and move onto the next one. It was just like a cycle and I kept on doing it.

The first time I had actual sex, I was eighteen years old.  I had joined the RAF and I was living off unit in a house with two other guys.  Her name was Mary and it was really difficult for me. It was a case of having lots to drink first and lots of kissing. I had the smallest room in the house but it was right next to the toilet so I could run in there, get everything working and then run back into the bedroom, jump on top of her, and try to find the right place to put it.  She later claimed that she was pregnant and had had an abortion. She only told me because I saw her crying at the RAF club. That really shocked me. I still went out with girls after that but only to be seen with someone on my arm, I didn’t actually physically have sex.

I didn’t have sex with a guy until I was twenty-one years old. I got sent to Norfolk RAF and as soon as I arrived I met a guy called Matthew. He was an RAF Steward and straight away I thought there was something between us. He was cute and we got on really well.

It was a new base and I’d gone from being in the same place for four years and feeling very secure to being somewhere where no one knew me. So in those first two months, we spent a lot of time hanging out together and I could feel that there was something there, some sort of electricity. It was amazing. But I didn’t speak to him about it because I had no idea if he was gay or not.

We’d made a few friends there and we used to go out together a lot.  One night there was a party in the RAF mess with all the crew and I remember thinking that I might actually be in love with this guy and he had no idea. Then at the party I saw him kissing a girl.

I was absolutely gutted. I was so upset. I made my excuses and left the party. I went back to the base and sat on my own in the TV room. I wanted to cry, I was so pissed off. Suddenly, after about twenty minutes, Matthew appeared and said to me, ‘Where did you go? What’s wrong?’

‘Oh nothing’, I replied, ‘I just wanted to go, I didn’t feel very good’.

He came over and sat next to me and we were just looking at each other and that’s it, we started kissing. It was risky, this was 1986 and it was still illegal to be gay in the armed forces. And we were doing it in the TV room, with the lights on, in an RAF block with windows and no curtains. Snogging as if our lives depended on it.

Then we went to his room and just snogged and clothes started coming off and I remember feeling the heat of another man’s body next to mine for the first time and it was perfect. And that’s when I first had sex with a guy. It wasn’t just doing a deed; it wasn’t just fumbling in the dark with someone you’ve never met before and forgetting about it. It was a build up of two months of tension and it was fantastic. It was a magical feeling. To actually see someone else’s parts, aroused, and feeling them next to you, on top of you. It was just really, really good.

I was in love with him. We had a really intense relationship, partly because we had to keep it quiet. It was a big secret and no one but us could know.  Eventually we decided to move off unit together. People just thought we were mates although I did start to think that they might have their suspicions. And then I got sent to the Falklands for four months, which was awful because we had only been together for a year and for the first time in my life, I was in love with someone and the feeling was being reciprocated.

I used to write to him and tell him how much I loved him and missed him and I can’t wait to, you know, get his cock in my face or whatever, and then one day, he read one of my letters, put it in his pocket and it fell out. It was picked up by an RAF policeman. He read it and because what we were doing was illegal, he went to his boss and reported it.

I had been in the Falklands for a couple of months and I got a phone call to go to the police office. In the back of my mind I just knew that they knew. I went in and sat down with an RAF policeman and he was very nice to me. He asked me how I was finding it in the Falklands and then he said, ‘I have to ask you a question now. We believe you are having a homosexual relationship with a Mr Matthew Knowles’. I remember hearing the words and the room spinning. And then I just thought what’s the point in denying it. There’s no point, so I just said, ‘Yes, I am’.

Our relationship did continue for a while after that but we broke up badly after a year and a half. I came home one day and he had gone. I did see him many years later. I was shopping in town and went into a gay bar for a drink and there he was. There was this guy, the man that I had lost my virginity to, we had changed our lives together. I went back to his hotel with him and it was so nice to see him and we had lots to talk about but I didn’t fancy him anymore, my first love as it were.

My attitude to sex now is that I don’t really like one-night stands. As a gay bloke, I don’t do saunas or get my cock out down at the park. Any important relationship that I have had, I have always liked somebody for ages before anything has ever actually happened. I think perhaps that first experience with Matthew has stayed with me because what I really yearn for is that feeling of electricity between two people. I want the build up of tension. I want to get into the package, you know, to have the box and then actually open it up and see what is inside. I think it has affected me, I hadn’t actually consciously thought that before now, but it’s changed me, it has defined how I have sex.

 

 

Honor thyself...

Today's account is a rather emblematic tale of conflict in a modern society. It is the story of a young woman who is torn between the sharp confines of her beliefs and her religion and the very real yearnings of her heart. We all want love, intimacy and union with that special somebody. Life is tough enough. We seek shelter and hope in our relationships. We seek a place to stop and express ourselves…which frequently, let's face it, involves sex. 

Because sex is a way of demonstrating how we feel, of reviving and of pleasuring ourselves. All pretty essential components of a healthy, happy life. Make no mistake then, that deciding to remain a virgin until the day you get married is a tall order in today's society. Throw religious confusion and a sense of duty into that pile and you've got yourself a real dilemma.

And I'm not trying to be flip when I say that today's story revealed a conflict of my very own. I set about 'correcting' this story with all the zeal of a person who believes that every single sentence ever written in the English language should begin with a capital letter. I mopped up those 'i's and corrected those 'the's' in a fit of grammatical self righteousness that left me exhausted on the floor, so tired was I from catching all those dropped capitals. I just cannot get with this trend to un-capitalize the crap out of everything. Until I had a little revelation of my own.

This story, in the rush to make it sound 'better', had gone and lost its power, its resonance and its poignancy. Instead of sounding like the voice of the person who had written it, it had begun to sound like me. 'Corrected' it may be, but homogenised it had become. The ticks and the nuances that add the flavour, the style and the feeling of the story had all gone. Times change, language changes and ultimately, the way that people communicate with each other has changed, and so, dear reader, I decided to get over myself and un-correct the so called corrected.

Ok, so I left in the full stops. Let me have some full stops. I like my full stops. But everything else remains the same. And it feels better. More importantly, it sounds like the human being that wrote it. I can hear her voice more clearly and that’s the most important thing.

Perhaps, in the spirit of modern communication, you might have something that you want to say to Honor? Can you offer her a solution, or some comfort for her dilemma? As a modern woman in the 21st century, I found it very hard to put my own feelings aside when I replied to her email. But then I am not religious so what do I know. I only have me to answer to, and that’s hard enough as it is. Imagine having to answer to god as well.

honor

from london UK

'virginity' is a very sensitive issue to me. i am twenty two and still a virgin. the reasons for this involve both religious and personal reasons. how i have kept it for so long in this time and age still shocks me but i have. the journey has no way been easy for me. i have been through so many boyfriends as well as heartache, because of my unwillingness to have sex. i do get involved in other sexual activities but just not penetrative sex. i have had so many moments where i have doubted myself and felt that it was fear holding me back, i have been brought to tears on this issue on several occasions (including this very moment).

i decided to keep my virginity because of my faith (religion). it does not encourage sex outside of or before marriage. other reasons for this is that i don't want to start having sex with one guy then break up with him and end up having sex for the wrong reasons like anger, just in the moment kinda thing or a drunken moment.  i have alwayz thought of my virginity as a gift, one i intend to give my future husband. my ex`s have all said to me i am in lala land if i think i would find someone who will wait and called me naive and scared. but i am 110% sure that i do not have fear of the sexual act. if i have any fear then its fear of having regrettable moments involving sex.

needless to say, the teary moments are what gets me. i have met guyz i have thought to be perfect for me but i fear the relationship ( if any) would be based on sex. i met a guy who for the first time since i started dating, gave me all the fairytale moments. he was my friend and more. and like a friend he was honest to me and told me he wouldn't be able to be with me without sex, he said he loved it too much. this caused so much confusion for me because i really liked him - all of him and he wasn't even my type which made my attraction to him stronger. he said i was perfect for him but he didn't know if he could wait and not cheat on me.

of course everyone told me that it was all bull but i was so into him that i didn't care and stuck with him, tellin him how much i adored him everyday. On valentine`s day this year i wrote him a poem. i could tell it touched something in him because he was more attentive to my feelings and all the sweet talk we used to do initially came back only much stronger. but i had to know he wanted to be with me so i kept my distance and gave him space to show he wants to be with me. i stopped callin him and eventually he called me after 2 weeks saying he has been trying to call me but i didn't get any missed calls, till today a couple months after and he hasn't contacted me and vice versa.

i miss him so much but i cant force him to be celibate because of me. till today i get moments where i just want to sit down on m my bed and cry my eyes out thinking if im making a mistake keeping my virginity. right now i want to call him but i fear that time has created to long a bridge for me to cross and i have already lost him as a friend and more.

i am tired of doing this over and over again but there is nothing i can do. my reasons for keepin my virginity still stand but my heart weakens every time i turn a guy down and its like every time that happens, he takes a piece of me and i am completely lost. my greatest fear is that pressure from today's society and my sexual urge for release will lead me to lose my virginity for a reason much worse that if i had choosen to have sex with one of my ex`s.

oh and i'm catholic by the way, very strict religion, especially on the issue of sex but apart from that my mum ( bless her soul) takes pride in knowing i'm a virgin, my younger sister isn't and told my mum and i could tell my mum was heartbroken about it and yes i know its my life and not hers but she wouldn't want the wrong thing for me and i take pride in the fact that i could keep myself this long. the idea of giving my hubby this precious gift of mine is still strong and possibly the strongest reason i have but i fear that i might lack experience to keep him home when the time comes.

actually i have two thoughts about my 'wedding night', i either want to shock the socks of him by giving him the greatest sex he ever had or giving him the gift idea. 'sigh', like i said, im in two minds about this.'

 

3 guys, 3 stories, 1 week.....Part three...

Being the crack-berry addict that I have become, it’s all I can do not to email people back from wherever I am, at whatever time of the day or night. Mahesh was a case in point. But being as I was hosting my own Christmas party at the time and several sheets to the wind, on this occasion, I managed to hold back. Probably a good thing because a story like this requires the gentle touch and three vodka and sodas was not going to help me apply it effectively. (Please note: I am also the world’s worst lightweight). Here is what made me want to weep into my drink just a little bit that night….

‘Hi Kate,

I recently came across your blog and I find posts witty and informative. I am part of the few who make up the lowest rung of the social ladder. An outcast of Humanity, no friendships or relationships. An existence of Misery. You already know how I lost my virginity by now. Yeah, I paid a prostitute to have sex with and had my first kiss with her too. We were both twenty-two years old.

I was born in Nepal and when I was eleven we moved to UK to live with my father, who was then serving in the British Army. I struggled to fit in from the first day and in coming days & years spiraled into who I am now.

This may disgust you, but that's my reality & how it happened.

Regards

Mahesh.’

On the contrary and from the sober safety of a Sunday morning, I assured Mahesh that his story, and he himself, most certainly did not disgust me. Far from it. My only instinct was to try and bolster the confidence of someone who had clearly taken a brave step forwards. I have said this too many times - but life is too short to feel crap about stuff that can be changed. Might he feel the benefit of some talking therapy? It seems that I had hit the nail right on the head:

‘Hi Kate,

Thanks for your considerate reply.

Fortunately I did accept help a month ago and it has helped me in every way. I have grown more in a month than in all my life before. I only wish that I'd been there years before. Now I can see where and how I want to live my life, but when I see how far away I am, I get panic attacks and bouts of deep depression.

The woman I was with was respectful and considerate. She made me at ease and I enjoyed my time with her. She also completely changed my perceptions about sexual workers. She was a student in a local university, doing this of her own free will. I was surprised how pretty she was when I met her. I never imagined girls like her doing this. Intelligent, beautiful and from a ‘well-off’ background. Maybe I was extremely lucky finding her and her choosing me as I confessed I was a virgin and had never kissed a girl in an email. Rather than be repulsed, she wanted me!

The sex was just incredible. There is no other way to describe it. It was more than everything I had imagined. But I also want to make a point about how virginity isn't just a physical thing, I realised this after I lost it. Rather, the emotional aspect is as important and one that was completely missing during my first time. I feel that this emotional part can only come through a loving relationship. I have only begun to develop socially and emotionally but I am already reaping the rewards and later on in life, I know I will have good friendships and loving/rewarding relationships with women.

She was a step in me receiving help. So there you go, losing virginity gave me a new birth in life!! I am now a Virgin in Life.

Regards

Mahesh.’

Alls well, it seems, that ends well.

 

3 guys, 3 stories, 1 week.....

Way back in the day when all this began, I was itching to get this story for my book. Seeing as it seemed pretty unlikely that I would ever find a woman who had lost her virginity to a prostitute, (I live in hope), I turned to the male of the species instead. There must be a man out there somewhere who had done this deed – and was prepared to talk to me about it.

I searched high and low. I made bizarre phone calls to male friends in the dead of the night. Even if one of them hadn’t actually done it themselves, one of their friends might have. Not that I have an issue with this mind. I must make this clear. Having spent three years interviewing people face to face about the loss of virginity and another two communicating with all sorts of people via this blog - frequently male virgins who are desperate to lose their virginity - I could never begrudge someone the opportunity to avail themselves of virginity in this manner.

You’ll soon see why when you read some of the stories I am going to publish this week. The cloak of virginity is a bloody hard thing to wear in this day and age. Sex is everywhere and you could be fooled into thinking that absolutely everyone is doing it at every available opportunity – except you.

Of course, I know the truth. So many times during the course of my book interviews, I have got the feeling that people have agreed to talk to me, not just because they want to tell me about virginity loss, but also because they want to plump me for information about other people’s sex lives. They want to know that what other people think and feel is in line with their own activities. They need to know that they are normal. This sort of anxiety does not end with the loss of virginity. We all want to know that what we do is just as good as what everyone else does.

To this end, young men everywhere are desperate to find out what the big deal is all about. In the words of one of my correspondents this week, they feel like ‘outcasts’, or even ‘non-members of society’. And as one of this weeks stories will explain, it doesn’t matter how many times you tell someone to chill out, not to worry, that sex isn’t that much of a big deal…..it’s very easy to say that when you have had sex and they haven’t.

Which is all a way of telling you that last week I received not one story from a young man who had lost his virginity to a sex worker, but three. Three in a week. That’s unprecedented. Three stories from three very different people, so I will start with the (very) short one today, the longest one later in the week and the saddest last – because I want the sad guy to read the other two people’s stories and see if it will cheer him up.

Today’s correspondent titled his story ‘My Blonde Ambition’.

Dear Kate,

I am Ben, born on 3 April 1990. I'm originally from Malaysia and now living in Great Britain for over eight years. I am a student with Asperger's syndrome.

Not until the 8 December, I had never had a girlfriend, never kissed a woman, never dated a woman and never been close to having sex.

That's because of my Asperger's Syndrome and having difficulties with my social skills.

Just few weeks before the 8th December, I considered booking an escort to lose my virginity and gain confidence with women before I go to college in September.

I used to pleasure myself by reading adult magazines, watching adult movies and looking at pictures of blonde women.

On that day, I met a 34-year-old blonde woman called Diana. I won't go to the details but my first sexual encounter was great and I feel fulfilled sexually. It was better than my imagination because I touched her intimate parts and she touched me in return and it was great.

Therefore, I advise desperate people like me to follow suit for a memorable sexual experience and I am happy that I am no longer a virgin anymore.

I will see two or four more blonde escorts in the future so I can gain experience and confidence before I get my new girlfriend.

I will never forget Diana for the rest of my life

Yours sincerely,

Ben, 18 years old from Great Britain

Well said that woman….

Once again, the Virginity Project has been a busy bee. Dating, pitching, writing, early morning trips to the swimming pool in the dark British gloom, life never stops here in the Big Smoke.

In amongst all this, I am happy that all sorts of folk still find the time to send me a story. I particularly like this one from Cheryl in Manchester. She raises a pertinent question: does virginity loss only happen once? Or could it be something that we ‘grow into’? A process instead of one single isolated incident?

I like this point of view. This is what virginity loss is all about. In the end, its never going to be the greatest experience of your life is it? I could count the people on one finger who told me their stories were the fairy tale they imagined  – and upon reflection even that person had changed her mind by the time she had finished telling me her story. (Please note, I am not factoring in the one about the lesbian who told me that losing her virginity was one of the greatest sexual experiences of her life – I am saving that one for the book!)

But losing virginity is a beginning. It’s the first step at the start of a journey. You don’t expect to drive a car well the first time that you try. But with practice and patience, you might become a world-class driver. We all have to start somewhere and the first time you have sex with someone that actually means something is much more likely to be the ‘first time’ that you really remember.

The only comment I can make about this is based around an incident that occurred in the bath with my first proper boyfriend when we were about seventeen years old. I shan’t go into the details but it was the first sexual experience that really knocked my socks off - not that I was wearing any of course. But it certainly wasn’t the first time I had had sex. And as Cheryl says, if we can keep on losing our virginity in that manner, for the love of god, lets hope it keeps on going for a very long time….

Cheryl. Born 1984, lost virginity aged 16.

Losing my virginity? I don't even know when it was. I know I was sixteen when I definitely, 100%, had penetration. When I was thirteen I had a drunken fumble with a boy in the year above me. I don't think I lost my virginity then though. When I was fourteen, after a huge party in the woods I woke up and found condom wrappers near by. I don't think I lost my virginity then either. But it was certainly a start...

No one I know lost their virginity in some whirlwind of romance or love - or anything even resembling it. I can't help but think that 'losing your virginity' is something you should grow into; not something which is over in a split second amidst pain or embarrassment. The first time for a girl and probably the second, third, fourth and fifth are quite uncomfortable experiences. Uncomfortable doesn't even do it justice. It hurts, it bleeds, it confuses and worries... And that's what all the fuss is about?

I was seventeen when I had my first sexually active relationship. I had never orgasmed before other than on my own. After a few months of sleeping with my boyfriend, I started to feel the twinges of a possible orgasm. Even those vague sensations changed my outlook on sex. All of a sudden it seemed that it might, just might be possible for my boyfriend to make me come. And then he made me come. That's when I really started to lose my virginity...

Surely if losing your virginity is meant to be so monumental then the point when it should be recognized is the point that deserves such recognition? The intimacy, the exhilaration – the awakening and acknowledgement of every part of your body when an orgasm ripples, when someone else makes that orgasm ripple through you and your bare flesh is touching bare flesh; when you cannot get any closer to that other person - that's monumental.

But on the other hand, if that's the time to acknowledge losing your virginity then 'losing' is surely not the right word for such an incredible feeling and experience. I didn't ever lose my virginity; I grew out of it, shedding it like a caterpillar sheds its cocoon, to stretch its wings as a butterfly and all of a sudden see the world from a completely different point of view.

I hope I never stop losing my virginity.

The age of innocence?

The Virginity Project has been a busy bee lately doing actual work. Don’t my employers understand that I have more important things to do than so-called real work? Like document your stories? Clearly not. The good thing is that plenty of you have been on the case and as a result, I have a rather nice back catalogue of stories.

Since the nights are drawing in and winter is whispering around the corner, what better time to settle in for a spot of ‘period drama’ than now? Sorry Dennis, I don’t mean to jest about your age, it’s just that it’s a rare occasion indeed to hear from the older generation - the whole seventy-four years of you! It’s also a great opportunity to reflect on just how much life has changed in a relatively short period of time.

Our parents really did live in an age of innocence. They remained childlike for longer because they didn’t know what sex was. It wasn’t alluded to in advertising, nobody had televisions and the Internet wasn’t even invented. Childhood lasted a lot longer than the perfunctory ten minutes we are granted today. If you are interested, Rafael Behr writes very well on this subject in the Observer Sex Special.

Meanwhile, pull up the blankets, light the fire and settle in to listen to a story that has more twists and turns than a twisty-turny thing. Bring a tissue. I don’t mind telling you that I shed a tear or two whilst editing this story….

Dennis. Born 1934, lost virginity aged 24.

‘I was born in 1934, the first born to working class parents who themselves had not experienced penetrative sex until after they married at twenty-nine and twenty-eight years of age.  My father had been a soldier, posted overseas for eight years during their engagement but I have no problem in accepting their celibacy as fact. 

I was brought up to the same tradition, my father often telling me that if a man had any respect for a woman, then he would naturally honour her womanhood.  I remember when I heard German prisoners - working on a nearby farm - use the F-word in regard to what they thought of the Russians. I asked my Dad what they meant and his reaction was to box my ears so hard that I was knocked across the room and I was told never, ever to use ‘that’ word again.  And so it still is, now that I am seventy-four. 

Certainly, I went through the schoolboy ‘dirty stories’ phase - but it was what I heard, rather than me actively joining in.  I remember joshing around with schoolmates and comparing ‘hard-ons’ but at 16, I still had very little idea of what this was about.  Accidentally discovering masturbation came as a shock but it was something which I was to make much of in adult life.

I had girl friends but never got fresh with any of them.  One girl friend lasted through 6th form until I was well into National Service.  I used to visit her house on weekend leave and we were left alone in the best room to chat... but nothing more.  Perhaps I shouldn’t have felt quite so stunned when I heard that she was getting married to someone very much older because she was pregnant by him.     

I also remember all the barrack room banter about what the other men had got up to at the weekend. ‘Did you get it away?’  ‘Were you on the nest?’  ‘It looked just like a peach when you take out the stone’.

I was twenty-one when I started university and student nurses were the main outlet for amorous feelings.  I ‘went out’ with one but we just found ourselves holding each other, hugging, kissing and getting very breathless together but nothing more.  

Then my brother died suddenly - found dead at work in a toilet cubicle from a massive epileptic fit - which shook me rigid.  The summer following his death, I was determined to have a holiday like no other and chose a Club Med straw hut holiday in Sicily.  I had never been further than Paris before and this was an eye-opener for me, to feel incredibly free ... the unlimited wine, superb cuisine, the sea, sand, sun, with people from all over Europe, and sleeping in the most basic accommodation: straw huts.  A lot was ‘going on’ for sure ... but oh so discretely and not in your face at all.  

We were just having the time of out lives... at least, I was.  It was here that I met the girl I was to marry, some three years later, although our ‘relationship’ (HOW I HATE THAT WORD!!) didn't get under way until we met again, quite by chance, the following summer. 

She was Scandinavian, a high-powered international secretary, from a farming background.  At the time, she was working in Brussels.  We had New Year together in Copenhagen.  She came to England for Easter, we holidayed Club Med again and the next summer we got married - a huge affair, at the farm, which went on for most of a week!!  She had rosemary sewn into her wedding veil, a sign of purity, as she - like me - was still a virgin.  She had an upbringing as rigid as my own and, although working abroad ever since graduation, she had deliberately kept herself chaste.  

I don't think we consummated our marriage on the wedding night; after dancing until 4 am, we were taken to a hotel for the rest of the night ... being called for soon after 8 am to return to the farm for breakfast to speed the parting guests.  The hotel room had two single beds, fixed together, as is the custom in Scandinavia.  We were too tired for more than closeness and bodily contact and the floor of the room was covered with rice the next morning from every pocket and crease in our clothes.

There followed two more days of partying and late nights, then three nights with my relatives in Copenhagen, before they returned home.  We achieved full intercourse - just about - only on our first night in Copenhagen, but the real pleasure did not happen until we were on honeymoon in Greece.  And so it continued for the rest of our time together – twenty-three years - until my wife could no longer do so, because of a colostomy arising from surgery for ovarian cancer.  Sex for us was always good and it was very rare for both of us not to experience an orgasm. 

When she died, she was the only woman I had ‘known’, in the Biblical sense ....and there was no way I could even think of taking another woman.  I was distraught for months afterwards.  I felt that our marriage had been perfect in every way, in spite of one of our twins having very severe learning disabilities - from oxygen starvation at a difficult birth - and then the cancer.  Her prognosis had been very bad but she persevered through four years and four months of hideous chemotherapies, two major surgical operations and radiotherapy.  I was with her at every treatment and I nursed her, at home, in her own bed, through the last three weeks of her life.  She died in my arms. 

For most of the following year, I drifted.  I gave up the job I loved. The stress levels were enormous and no longer made sense, so I opted out and worked in administration in a charity hospital, a job with little pay but zero stress!  Throughout my wife's illness, I had received a lot of support from a gay man.  When things were really bad, I would take my lunch sandwiches to his flat, from which he ran a small business supplying clothing to gay shops.  I was aware of his sexuality and didn't think being with him and his friends would have any effect on me. 

I went to his clubs and so gravitated towards the company of men, finding it impossible to relate to women.  Then, one such evening, in a gay bar, a man came straight up to me and kissed me.  I reeled back - why had I let him even near me?  ‘Why did you do that?’, I asked.  ‘Because you look so sad,’ he said ... and that was it.  I broke down completely and hugged him. 

After that, I got deeper and deeper into the hard-core leather scene and S & M, with my own full leather of the best and most expensive quality.  While once I had just my own darling wife, I now found myself in bed with ten ... fifteen ... maybe twenty men over the next nine years.  I even had a man living with me for some four years.  I was always a ‘top’, hating the submissive role; I couldn't understand ANY man submitting of his own free will to another - I loathed being penetrated myself, it was too painful and made me feel dirty to allow this to happen.  But whatever I had been doing Fri/Sat evenings, I was always in church Sunday evening. Through everything, I kept my faith.  Invariably, I ended each service a broken man and in floods of tears.

Then I joined a church group for an Alpha course and, during an evening learning about ‘The Grace of God’, I suddenly realised it was ME for whom the Grace was intended... and I ‘came out’ to the group.  From then onwards, I turned away from the gay scene.  Through a college friend I joined a ‘pilgrimage’ to The Holy Land and there met a delightful widowed lady.  We were South (me) and North, so our meetings were perhaps once a month and, after a year, I had proposed and we decided to marry. 

We were soon sharing a bed during weekends together and it was she who led me into sex again – and for a while, it was good; it was so easy to bring her to a very wild and noisy orgasm.  But I was already sixty-nine when we married and had had a TURP some years before.  So, not long into our marriage, I experienced erectile dysfunction and resorted to Viagra on prescription... the headaches this induces are nearly unbearable!!  I have done a little better with other, similar medication but, gradually, we have come to do without penetrative sex - just closeness and lots of hugs.

When we are on holiday, I am much more open to sex and have even managed to perform without the pills.  I think my problem is psychological as much as physical, as I despise myself for giving in to full sex before we were married.  I am so ashamed of myself for this premature behaviour, although it was encouraged by my wife-to-be and it was already clear that we would marry in due course. 

I can honestly say that I have not been anything more than sociable with men in the past eight years and I do love my second wife.  I try not to compare or contrast ... but this is time round just so different and I long for something of that other marriage, even if only a shared appreciation of fine things for our home, and a neatness which living with two dogs and a cat will never allow.  It is sad to say that, so often now, I am just about ‘hanging on’.  I have had so many hard knocks in the past 5 years that I swear simply would not happen where I lived before.   I guess that I just don't ‘do’ North!!’        

 

No introduction necessary…

And I wasn’t going to write one. But I am an unveiling an unusual creature today. A woman who knows that ‘who I am as an individual is not defined by my virginity’. A radical concept perhaps and if more people thought about it, ‘The Virginity Project’ might not exist.

Isn’t it funny how times change? Think of the stories of old, stories from people who barely knew the facts of life when they got married. It wasn’t that long ago. In the space of fifty years, the concept of virginity has been turned on its head. In today’s society, you could be forgiven for thinking that virginity is a nasty disease. Dis-ease, never a truer word spoken.

Perhaps the media landscape has pushed us. MTV, R&B, sexy ladies, sexy boys, cars, advertising and the promises made by the purchase of expensive products. Buy this and you’ll get laid, get loved, get sexy. The truth is that we don’t need any of this to be sexy, or, more to the point, sexual. We are animals, we already are sexual.

And there are a million and one ways to be sexual, none of which need involve the act of penetrative sex - that which we decree to be the loss of virginity. It’s just that somewhere along the line we convinced ourselves otherwise. Well, all of us that is except for Sally.

‘Dear Kate,

I loved reading your blog because I'm a big fan of Oral History and it's great from that perspective, but secretly, I really enjoyed it 'cos I'm still a virgin at the age of twenty-six.

I don't have any story to tell. Nothing hideous ever happened to me as a child; I was a happy (if slightly odd) adolescent. I home-schooled throughout most of my teenage years and the two years I spent in an alternative high school were mostly spent gaining confidence around people my own age -  sex wasn't even on the cards at that point. 

And then I spent ages in university figuring that I'd meet someone who I really liked and who I wanted to hop into bed with. And I met one guy who was great, but he turned out to be gay (despite the alternative school, I have no gaydar whatsoever). And there was this other guy, but he already had a girlfriend, and I stand sternly by the Commandment, 'thou shalt not endeavour to break up other peoples' relationships just so thou canst get laid.' And then I wondered if maybe I was on the other bus, because generally, I just didn't seem to meet that many men I was bothered about. 

And I still don't.  I meet a lot of men who I really like, who I enjoy hanging out with and chatting to, and mostly I don't feel like I have any difficulty communicating with them. But the litmus test always is, 'Can I picture myself in bed with this person', and the answer is usually 'NO'.

I've put far too much time and effort and occasionally tears (not to mention sweat and, erm, other bodily secretions at certain times of the month) into trying to figure out why I'm so picky. Is it biological? Is it a mental or emotional block - am I one big neuroses without realizing it? Are all my reasons for never dating anyone (I'm too busy with grad school/I'm only in this city temporarily/I don't want to have to factor my life around someone else when I don't know what I want to do after I'm done school) all actually excuses for being frigid, which I don't think I am, and, uh, the downstairs neighbours might attest to that fact if you pressed them...

Am I a commitment-phobe? Do I just come up with reasons for the unsuitability of people my friends want to set me up with because I'm not ready to have a proper relationship? (Although to be fair, would you, as a fairly committed atheist, date an otherwise very sweet man who was also very, very Christian in a Calvinist sort of way?...that was the latest adventure in the world of non-dating, although I would like to keep the aforementioned man as a friend.)

Or, and this is the slightly radical bit here, because nobody seems to want to hear this reason no matter how many times I tell them: am I a single virgin because, despite the fact that there are a vast number of people on the face of this planet who I might be into, the vast majority of them apparently don't reside in this relatively small city?  Why is it so difficult and seemingly taboo for a girl to just not fancy anyone? Or to think that maybe, just maybe, she's not bothered about men or having a relationship because she wants to, I don't know, travel? Finish school, and, goddamit, do a good job at it?  Or spend Saturday night eating popcorn and watching Doctor Who and gossiping with the upstairs neighbours? Or work on that one-act play she wants to enter into a local grassroots festival competition? Or spend two hours a day, every day, rigourously figuring out how to sing and play the fiddle at the same time?

And, quite frankly, a relationship would interfere with all of those. It would make certain activities (like travelling and masturbation) much more enjoyable, but it would curtail the time spent on others - and I don't know if I want to give all of those activities up, and compromise my life to fit with another person's right now. (Or, you know, maybe I'm just scared of change and then we're back to the whole neuroses thing again...)

Okay, I should stop drivelling on - if you want to put this on the Virginity Project you can. I just wanted to say 'Thanks', really. It's taken me a long time to understand that who I am as an individual isn't defined by my virginity. It's part of me, and I still fret and fuss over it, but it isn't the sum of my parts. And I'm sure that there's any number of excellently filthy puns to be made on my unfortunate wording of that one, so I'll leave you to it...But really, thanks. It's nice to feel that I'm not completely alone with this one. And if you post this, you can leave my real name on it.

Thanks for listening.

Best,

Sally’

Its not all about me...

Today I shall turn the reigns of power over to you, the readers of and contributors to ‘The Virginity Project. In short, I got bored of the sound of my own voice so I decided to let someone else do the talking. Power to the people and all that. I'm not the only one with an opinion. To this end, I sent the following story to some of the people I am lucky enough to correspond with. It'll be interesting to see how they reply to Darcy's dilemma.

Story today. My panelists and their replies tomorrow:

'Dear Kate

My name is Darcy and I was born in 1991. Virginity Loss: TBC.

I recently found The Virginity Project and it's actually boosted my confidence considerably. I'm still a virgin and feel a bit of a freak if I’m honest. I've never been bullied or sexually abused or anything like that so I don't see why I have the feelings I do about sex.

I think, deep down, it may have something to do with my religion. I was raised as a relatively strict catholic, so I feel very guilty when I even think about sex. I have never even...er...’self-helped’...and if my boyfriend does anything like that for me then I don't particularly feel any kind of sensation - mental or physical, apart from ‘oh...this is happening’.

The actual idea of sex doesn't scare me. I think I probably would have sex with my boyfriend (of four months) if he asked me, because it may make him happy and I wouldn't feel like I've missed out on a teenage milestone. I just don't know how I'd deal with the guilty feelings, and if everything went wrong, the feelings of regret.

I think the way I end up loosing my virginity will matter immensely for all my future relationships and my future thoughts on men because I've only ever had two boyfriends before. I've also been researching around the topic to try and get some answers to my problems and what I decipher thus far is this: women are told they will get nothing from their first time apart from pain or possibly pregnancy. They are told they will bleed and that the boy will probably freak out if he's bled on and then they will be labeled a 'slut’, so nothing really fills me with confidence.

I had a conversation recently too with a friend of mine, and she said that for a first time it is advisable ‘for the girl to be on top because then she can control what happens. Missionary is just plain painful’ but I don't think I'd have the confidence to go ‘on top’, so I'd just have to deal with whatever pain comes my way (And I don't really fancy bleeding on anyone!)

If you haven't got bored of me ranting about my status, then thank you for reading this far. It's nice to be able to write all my 'V-thoughts' and rants down and tell someone how I'm feeling about it because I really don't know what to do. And if I talk to anyone properly about it then they could just say I'm making a big deal out of nothing. It's nice to know you're not alone with these things.

 Thanks again,

Darcy x'

Sign me up...

Having spent a lifetime not recognizing quite basic forms of flirtation from the opposite sex (note: for any potential suitors, you may have to make yourselves obvious, when I say obvious, I mean installing green traffic light signals outside my house type obvious), my heart goes out to this week’s story teller. Nineteen year old Christopher is a teenager. He differs in no other way to you or me, except that he is Autistic.

This is a condition that amongst other things, affects the perception of quite basic non verbal communication. The ‘playing hard to get’ routines of the average teenager would be lost on the Autistic youth. The casual signals that you and I (usually) read would be invisible to the Autistic eye. Christopher explains it thus:

‘I have trouble with women. They tend to be very subtle which of course is entirely lost on me along with their non-verbal signals. I have difficulty recognising the significance of expressions and gestures as well as the more implicit language features – intonation and stress, etc.’

And we think we have a hard time!

Christopher has adopted what some may consider a radical solution to this problem. He has taken the bull by the horns, saved up some cash and taken the short cut. Christopher chose to lose his virginity to an escort. I applaud his brave, pragmatic approach. These qualities will serve him well as he prepares to leave home and go to university, a bold step by anyone’s standards. Here is his story…

‘Dear Kate,

I've been considering sending you an e-mail for some time now but have only recently plucked up the courage.

Until the 25th of May, 2007 I had never had a girlfriend, never kissed a woman, never held hands, never touched, and never came close to having sex. On this day I had a two hour appointment with a beautiful twenty-five year-old escort who went by the name of Dannie.

I've always struggled with social interaction, particularly with the opposite sex. This is due to having mild autism and also having suffered extreme levels of bullying throughout most of my life. I am generally considered very handsome and do not have a shortage of women interested in me but I don't have the social skills or the confidence to do anything about it - although I am working on it and feel my virginity-loss experience has helped immensely.

The idea of using an escort for my first time had been in my head for about a year but I had not seriously considered it until my eighteenth birthday on the 4th February 2007. Roughly a week before meeting Dannie, I phoned the agency which she worked for. They were friendly and put me on to the escort I had selected (which I wasn't prepared for and, unfortunately, nearly hyperventilated just speaking to her).

The day came and I took a taxi to the city where she was based. I arrived at her flat and took about ten minutes to bring myself to ring her door bell. When I did, I was greeted by Dannie who was even more stunning in real life than in her photos. Five foot nine tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, very soft features, and large, supple breasts (I hope that doesn't sound crude, if so I apologise).

She greeted me warmly with a kiss on the cheek, (the closest I'd ever got to a woman) and invited me inside. I handed her the envelope of money (£250), she invited me to sit down and offered me a drink of wine which I accepted. She went to the kitchen to pour the drinks, and presumably check the money also.

Dannie returned with the drinks and we talked for about fifteen minutes; just general chit-chat. She asked me to come to the bedroom, but I sheepishly asked for another drink which she obliged. When pouring the drink she asked 'Christopher . . . are you a virgin?' I answered that I was, something which I'd never admitted to anyone before and had always vehemently denied when previously questioned. She talked to me reassuringly as I drank and then led me to the bedroom.

I won't go into details but the rest of the appointment was amazing and intimate though we were basically strangers, we spoke more during and after which was, again, very intimate and personal. I left the appointment having received one last kiss, and wearing a grin which didn't fade for a few months and still returns when I reminisce.

I was extremely relieved to be free of the bonds of adult male virginity. As clichéd as this may sound, I felt like I had removed the weight of the world from my shoulders. I have since become much more confident in communicating with people. I still haven't had a meaningful relationship with a non-paid woman, though I have seen two other escorts since which, though not as special as the first, have served to make me more confident with women.

Although I was only eighteen at the time, and am only nineteen now, I could not and cannot see myself ever having had sex or a relationship without having seen an escort; I needed this. I will be going to University in September and hope to have a fresh start and, hopefully, forge new friendships and pursue a meaningful relationship with a woman. I will never forget Dannie and do not regret my decision to pay for the experience.

Yours sincerely,

Christopher, 19 years old, from England'

Given the prevalence Autism, I had to ask Christopher what advice he might offer to someone else considering this course of action. He answered with the following nuggets….

‘I would say that it's important to keep an open mind and be willing to learn, or more importantly, be willing to be taught. My first time I left my socks on and was jokingly scolded for it, we laughed and I didn't do it again. So, yeah, I'd say don't take things too seriously; be light-hearted in your approach and humility never hurt.

I'd also advise to aim to experience a variety of different women, not just one age group, ethnicity, background, et cetera. I've been with a tall blonde twenty five year-old, a medium height black-haired thirty year-old, and a short brunette thirty eight year-old. All of them brought a new and totally different experience.

Finally, I'd say if you're looking to use a sex worker to gain experience/ lose virginity/ whatever, then be sure to research them. Check previous clients' reviews, the reliability of the agency/girl, and remember that you generally get what you pay for. Also, I'd recommend a minimum booking of two hours, particularly for your first time; it gives you more time to relax and get to know the woman on some level.’

Wise words.

However you feel about Christopher’s choice, it is interesting to note that despite the fact that he lives with a condition that excludes him from the bore of standing on social ceremony, he is still prepared to go to great lengths to rid himself of his virginal status. He goes on to say this:

‘Now that I'm not a virgin I feel much more confident and happy in all aspects of life. As bizarre as this no doubt sounds, the moment I stopped being a virgin was the moment my confidence and general happiness increased ten-fold.’

You can’t argue with that.

Note: all names changed to protect identity.

Virgin territory...

Ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with a virgin? No, me neither. But last week's post got me thinking. If this occurrence were to, well, occur…what would I do? Em and Lo's fabulous website came to the rescue. I've been looking for an excuse to post this link for an age. Entitled 'How to deflower a nice young man in 14 steps', I think that gets to the point, don’t you?

Em and Lo go to great lengths to explain the in's (sorry) and the outs of what could be a potentially delicate procedure. What thoughtful people women are!

The owner of last week's story agrees. After I posted his brilliant story last week, I mailed back to ask him what the young woman in question thought when he broke the news that she had, um, just broken something else.

He replied…

'You wondered about the response of the woman in question when I told her about my 'situation'.... well, it's funny cos she is moving overseas permanently at the end of February. We both knew this when we hooked up so the whole thing has been on a sensible no-long-term plans basis. We chatted about it, it makes sense and we are both totally ok with this. Meanwhile, we have been meeting up, hanging out - and the other stuff - without the pressure of ‘is this going anywhere?’ type questions.

Anyway, I asked her how she feels about me being a virgin to start with and she said she almost felt a bit bad for 'corrupting’ me, but not really because I am so obviously happy with the 'corruption'. So after a little shock and embarrassment for her, I think she was pleased that I could be so open about things.

And the best bit? She decided that in this case, it is her responsibility to leave the country having equipped me with as much experience as possible by introducing me to all the different elements of sex and trying everything to see what feels good.

Its really cool to have someone be totally open and honest, showing me things and asking how it is, helping me find what I like or don’t, telling me what works best, encouraging me to explore everything...she always asks if there is anything I want to know, just ask and she will be honest, everything is completely relaxed and curious. To be honest, it's like a guys dream come true!'

No kidding.

What a woman. The universe works in mysterious ways. It’s almost like it decided to reward Dan for his patience. Here you are Son, you have been so good at waiting that we have decided to reward you with our highest honour: your very own virginity buster. What's more, you can keep her for a bit. She'll show you everything you need to know - without a shade of embarrassment and she won't stop until she is completely confident that you are ready to be unleashed upon the remainder of the female race. Holy shit, imagine if everyone had that sort of training, we would be living in sexual nirvana. I thank the lord for women like, well, I don't know her name, but you know who I mean, and of course, Em and Lo. Ladeez, keep the good work up!