The Virginity Project: Life is but a stage....

One of the reasons I am late updating this week is because The Virginity Project is sitting on its big fat arse on a Greek island. For the record, my butt isn’t actually that big but it easily could be. There is nothing to do here except read books, stare at the ocean and eat food. Life is good. I have plans to do all sorts of things...write new book proposals, update my column on the Huffington Post, update my other blog, Big Guy Small Dog Blog (unfortunately all the small dogs here – and there are LOTS of them – are owned by immense Greek, and very female mammas but I live in hope). Who knows if any of my grand plans will take shape but in the meantime, something else most definitely IS happening. Whilst I soak up the Hellenic rays that I so love, my book, The First Time, is being turned into a stage play. Yep, your voices, or at least those that I included in my book are having the life breathed back into them. Nice. It’s exciting. People have often mooted this idea over the years but not being a theatre type – the last thing I saw on stage was Pygmalion, which I loved, I rest my case – I didn’t do anything about it. And then ‘it’ found me.

If you live in London, ‘The Virginity Project’ as it is called, will be staged at The Tristan Bates Theatre in Covent Garden from 6-22 October 2011. If you don’t live in The Smoke, it doesn’t matter because theatre has moved on since the first days of Pygmalion. The show will be streamed live. For a small sum, you can watch live theatre unfold before your eyes wherever you might be in the world. Even I, on my tiny Greek island with my pony internet connection could probably manage it. Except I won’t need to because I will have crash landed back in the big city by then.

In the meanwhile, this week’s story is well timed. What did I say about sex and intimacy being two different planets recently? Elena puts it so much better. ‘Sex without emotional investment is just people stuffing body parts into each other and can't really be called intimacy at all.’ Direct. To the point and very, very true.

Born 1992, South Africa

I was always considered very mature and intelligent for my age, usually socializing with people a few years older than myself and, being the youngest child in my family by a big margin, constantly in the company of adults. My parents never really restricted me, having the view that knowledge was the best weapon and trusting in the fact that they had raised an intelligent, moral and responsible daughter.

I became very interested in this subject that found a place in the thoughts and conversations of the adults around me (interest that was further fueled by Hollywood films depicting glorified scenes of love-making) and decided to do my own discovering.

I read books, spoke to people who had done it before, and discovered things like masturbation which I did on a regular basis. I learned a lot about myself and what I enjoyed sexually so by the time I arrived at high school (braces off, puppy fat lost and a brand new pair of C-cup boobs which blossomed over the December holidays) I was ready to test out my knowledge.

I didn't have any grand expectations. I had spoken to enough people to understand that fairytale first-time sex was a virtual impossibility and so I definitely wanted a man who knew his way around the bedroom. Boys my age had never held much interest for me anyway.

It was around this time that I met Ben*. Ben was 6yrs older than me – 20 - when he brought his floppy blonde hair and chocolate eyes into my life. He was a musician (swoon) with a voice like an angel and the looks to match and I was simply stunned when he actually showed an interest in me. We saw each other for a few months and with every minute I spent with him I could feel myself falling harder and harder. He fuelled so many of my fantasies I just knew this was the guy I wanted to lose it to. Alas, despite my many advances, he never went beyond second base and ultimately decided I was too young and it wasn’t the right time for us- we should be friends instead and see what the future held. So we stayed friends. I had relationships in between - as did he - but they never went further than oral sex (the first blowjob I ever gave is quite a story in itself) and my feelings for Ben never faded.

When I turned 16, he got me a job as a waitress at the restaurant where he was a manager and that was where I met Giles*. Giles was 25, a chef and the head honcho when it came to the running of the restaurant. He was not typically good-looking, but he exuded a power and confidence that was impossible not to notice. It came as a huge shock (and quite an ego booster) when - once again - this man expressed interest in me. Ben did not like Giles at all and so it gave me a sick rush of pleasure to see his face when he asked me where I was going one evening and I told him I had a date with Giles. There was no escaping the emotion I saw there – jealousy - Result!

The evening at Giles’s place progressed quickly and it reached a point where alarm bells began to sound in my head that this evening was going to go further than I intended it to. I should have put the brakes on, but he was doing everything right (when he went down on me I thought my head would explode) and I just didn’t have the will power to stop. I was too curious and excited. He didn’t really ask permission or warn me beforehand. The next thing I knew he was inside me. He took complete control of the situation which suited me as it was what I wanted and it didn’t hurt at all - he definitely knew exactly what he was doing - and I am probably one of the few women in the world who can say they climaxed on their first time. I can’t complain about the experience itself - just the fact that the emotions weren’t there. It was sex for the sake of sex.

Nothing more became of Gile's and I. He left the company soon after to work elsewhere. Although my giving it up to Giles hurt Ben and put a dampener on our friendship for a while, I did eventually have my fairytale evening with him. The emotions invested in that sexual encounter made everything so much more intense. It was better than I ever imagined it would be and although Ben and I are not together, we remain good friends to this day. Proof - for me anyway - that sex without emotional investment is just people stuffing body parts into each other and can't really be called intimacy at all.