The Virginity Project

First there was a blog, then a book, and even a play. Now there is poetry. Today’s contribution is written by a man but told from a teenage perspective. ‘It's not firmly based on my own experience but draws inspiration partly from it, as well as from friends' stories, urban tales and media depictions.’ Like me, this man believes that ‘sex is not talked about enough in the increasingly sexualized world that we live in’.

I like that blokes have these unexpected perspectives. It’s too easy to believe that men and women are at war with each other. It makes a better story in a newspaper I guess. Shit is happening, there is no doubt. A new generation of women are finding their voices. But if I took one learning home from conducting all the interviews for my book, it is this: men are women are so much more alike than we think. I’ve heard as much sentiment, heart break, insecurity and vulnerability from men as I have from women. The difference is that women are more predisposed to talk to each other about the way they feel. Men store it up for the rare occasions that they feel ok enough about letting it all out. Or some random odd person who is writing a book about virginity loss teases it out of them with a guarantee of anonymity.

As is the norm on this blog, I’ve chosen a pseudonym for today’s writer but I’m happy to publish his real name should he wish me to.

 

My First Time

My knuckly fingers fumble

and the cognizance

of my anatomical incompetence

is etched upon my partner’s face –

still and unimpressed.

With dysfunction of my confidence

I’m heading for a fresh near-miss until

syrupy success.

 

Conscious of my thumping chest

I look to hers, and eager breasts

look back; expect to be caressed –

so, one hand short, I try my best

to pass this entry level test

and, yes,

my versed accomplice

signals progress.

 

Now, with vessel latex-rigged

for a voyage to the promised land

and a

bullheaded mentality

to ditch this damned virginity,

I’m in-

troduced to life as I don’t know it.

 

Not quite

my dreams of

pulling hair

and steaming love

but jerks

and unrelated

thrusts

(elbows everywhere!).

Positional switch.

 

A sound idea it proves (of hers)

as rhythm, effortless, occurs

and adolescent spirit stirs

as I see my fantasies

 

and feel the sexual slip ‘n slide

that raunchy film reels set in mind

the old R Kelly Bump N’ Grind°,

Well, Robbie, watch me go!

 

And the second time the helm is mine

approval’s shown in rolling eyes;

I sail through her dampened thighs

toward a virile future.

‘Til

a rushing wave

from deep inside

syringes up –

a pushing tide

My adolescence

pleads and cries

for prolonging of

this matchless high

Oh, Mr Kelly

tell me why

this brief first ride

has end in sight

She still pants

and writhes, unwise

to fluids reaching

record highs

 

And with reluctant

last goodbyes

my crew of debut

sea men flies

overboard

toward new skies,

splash-landing:

devirginized

 

---

° Bump N’ Grind sexually themed song by rapper R. Kelly, Robert Sylvester Kelly

 

I’m really thrilled today to showcase the new edition of my book. It’s the small format paperback of The First Time but whilst we were at it, we thought we’d give it a makeover. So here it is, Losing It: How we popped our cherry over the last 80 years.*

One doesn’t always get the chance to thank people for their help so whilst I am here, I’d like to show my appreciation for the many people who helped with the new cover. Lots showed title choices and visuals to friends and got feedback for me. Others at work looked through bunches of mocked up covers and gave their (sometimes hilarious) responses. ‘She looks DEAD’ was one of my favorites. ‘Too hairy and too oral’ was another. My marketing man at Icon Books was brilliant at translating my mood boards and scribbled notes into a creative brief, picking a great illustrator and bobs your uncle, a book cover was born. I love it. I hope you do too.

*note: please also support your local bookshops with the purchasing of books!

It's only rock n roll...

I did a radio show with the World Service a few years back and was given a semi hard time by a woman who thought I didn’t place enough importance on ‘the first time’. She said it was something that should be treasured and saved for ‘the right person’ and not given away without a thought. I don’t recall saying it should be given away without a thought but I do think we are on dodgy ground when we start saving it for ‘the one’ - for a hundred different reasons. The most prescient one being that a first time is just that. It’s a first time. There will be other times. These, to my mind, are just as, if not more, important. Which leads me to this….

There has been much talk lately of a piece of research conducted by undergrads at the University of Tennessee and Mississippi that claims that the quality of your first time dictates the quality of your future sex life. With the exception of people who have terrible first time experiences, I’m not on board with this. Our first time experience is a meeting of many different factors and influences and after years of listening to your stories, I conclude that our first experiences are the product of the people that we already are, and not the other way around.

If you are a sensible person, you will likely make a sensible decision about the first person you sleep with. Ergo, your first time is likely to be better. My first time speaks volumes about what sort of person I already was at 15 years old: way too bothered about what other people thought. For that reason, I gravitated towards the most handsome man I could find in order to ‘get it out of the way’ and impress people at the same time. Not that I could have articulated any of this at the time.  I wanted the beautiful French boy who could walk on his hands and I got him. I was acting on pure instinct and the instincts in question were not the foundation for grand romance or earth shaking first sexual experiences. It wasn’t the worst time of my life by a long shot either. The point being that as I grew up, got past ‘the first time’ and got to know myself better, I made better choices. This is the ebb and flow of life. Virginity loss is not a one-stop, one-chance-only, if you fuck-it-up-its-all-over kind of deal - and the way we deal with our sexual encounters reflects this. Being a teenager is complicated enough without bandying around (more) misinformation about your first time. And no, its not going to look like it does in porn either. If it does, I can guarantee you the female half of the equation will be dying of boredom inside.

In the meantime, today’s storyteller tells a cracking good tale and brings to light the entire ridiculous charade that is virginity and its loss.

‘I recently discovered your blog and project. Instantly fascinated, I have read many accounts and in the end decided to share my own. I lost my virginity aged 18 in 2009 and am now 21. Aged 14 there had been a girl I liked. She was slightly older than me and liked me too. At the time I didn't catch on to that but she was persistent in her endeavor. She and her friend invited me and my friend to stay the night at theirs. I went, rather oblivious despite the obvious purpose of this double date. We watched films, chatted and got a little drunk. At some point my friend and her friend left and she kissed me. I was instantly turned on and went along with it. As clothes came off I wasn't phased or even thinking of what was happening. It was all instinct.

That's why when she asked me 'Are you a virgin?' I simply told the truth. It hadn't occurred to me to say anything but that. I look back now and realise she had expected the opposite. She stopped and smiled, 'save it for someone important', she said, and no amount of begging changed her mind.

Our friends however clearly believed that we had had sex, for that was precisely what they had been doing. Although I hadn't had sex and thoroughly kicked myself for having bungled it by admitting my virginity, I let everyone believe I had. I was smart, I read about it intensively. From chick flicks to sex forums and thus with not too little bluster and at least one supposedly confirmed lay I duped everyone. I was an expert, I never claimed I was good in bed (which is a good practice anyway!) and made sure I knew everything there was to know. I was terrified that my peers would discover my terrible secret and it came close a few times.

Then I went to university, where of course talk of sex is rife, many having had partners before or indeed were in relationships. Not to mention the stereotype of students having so much casual sex. In my first two weeks in halls of residence I consistently kept leaving and returning at the same as a good looking 26 year old Masters student. We laughed about it the first few times and then chatted happily, rapidly accepting this as the status quo. One night, out with my friends and rather drunk, I bumped into her on the dance floor in a similar state. Within minutes we were kissing.

We went home and as we were kissing and more clothes were coming off she suddenly stopped and asked me 'Are you a virgin?' Inside a part of me keeled over with a heart attack and died. But the years of bullshit and study paid off as I shrugged it off smoothly and answered with a glib 'if I were, would I know how to do this?' as I kissed down the length of her body. Of course, I hadn't done that either so I was rather terrified! Thankfully she was so aroused and easily stimulated that I was very successful somehow. She soon grabbed a condom and we had sex. Hot passionate sex where we both achieved orgasm. It was amazing and I was so proud of myself for not having fallen in the same trap as before. The elation of having done it, of having gotten over with it was amazing. The best part about it was that it reinforced my know it all, sex guru, seducer persona that I had already begun to bullshit my new friends with.

It was only later, as the elation wore of that I found it both terribly sad however satisfying it was that I had been able to lie about it.  I know full well that my close encounter with sex aged 14 and my being able to bluff the fact that I had sex certainly changed the dynamics of my relationship with my peer group both at school and at university. Most definitely in my favour. I had always feared people finding out yet after. I wished I hadn't had to have lied to avoid the stigma of not having done it. Especially since it is relatively hard for a spotty, socially awkward young male to do.’