The Virginity Project

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.

Get fighting fit...

You are a creative bunch out there in the digital ether. ‘Regner’ from Denmark sent me this charming if highly poignant collection of thoughts and stories about virginity. Namely his own. It got me to thinking in a cliched Carrie Bradshaw moment of contemplation that virginity loss is the conduit. The tunnel through which we drive so much of our anxiety, our sadness and our frustration with the way that life just doesn’t pan out the way we want it sometimes.

In many ways this story isn’t really about virginity loss. It’s part of it - the tangible part of a life that its owner doesn’t feel is quite up to scratch, but it’s not the whole story. This is the story of someone who has not yet grasped a sense of his own power. Put differently, he lacks confidence.

Confidence. Ten letters that pack a punch. If you want to define something indefinable, confidence makes a great example. What does it look like? Where do you get it? And how do you keep it? Big questions that require big answers and I’m not sure I am qualified to help but I will say this: we don’t have to be helpless.

The most powerful thing that a human being can do is to take action. We can’t make people fancy us more or grow taller or better looking, at least not on the outside. And therein lies the clue. Forget about the things that you can’t do much about and start working on the things that you can. Forget about labels like virgin or non-virgin and start defining life on your own terms.

Think of it like this. When a captain takes hold of the wheel and begins the long slow turn to take his ship in another direction, a tiny shift of ten degrees might not look like much when he first takes hold of the wheel, but here’s the thing. Ulimately, his boat will end up at a totally different destination. It’s the small things that make the difference.

Have a haircut, go on a diet, learn to dance or all of the above. Question your thoughts. Even one a day. Are the rest of the world really ‘so happy and in love’? Or is that just the way you chose to see them? Or what they tell you?

‘You can’t count other people’s money’ as somebody once said to me. Making assumptions about other people’s lives is just that – making assumptions.

Confidence comes from steering your own ship. A crisis of my own saw me take myself to my local gym a few years back. And I don’t mean Holmes Place. I mean the All Stars Gym on Harrow Road. It’s a starkly lit brick building with a boxing ring, a bell and a lot of large muscly black men knocking seven bells out of each other’s shadows. It was just what the doctor ordered. I didn’t go more than four times but it signified an important moment in my life – the moment I took control and decided to fight, quite literally, for what I wanted. And I found out this: the right energy will attract more of the same.

I shall step away from the pulpit now but hear this Regner. I always change people’s names to protect their anonymity. Consequently I find myself looking on web sites like this for new names to give to people. How would I know what a popular men’s name in Denmark is? Today I chose Regner because aptly, it means ‘wise warrior’.

Regner, if you are brave enough to tell the world your story then you have the strength to change it. Go forth and conquer (yourself) young man. I know you can do it.

'Hi Kate

You’ve written that you receive a lot of stories from late virgins. I am myself a 24-year old Danish ‘super-virgin’: I have never had sex, never been kissed, never held hands and it goes without saying that I’ve never had a girlfriend. This is my story and some of my thoughts on being a virgin for way too long time.

The Origins of Sex-lessness

I was brought up as a only child by my parents in a rural area. We were living outside of the village so there were few other kids that I could play with. When I was six years old and went to school I realised that my parents were different. It was a typical rural area where people were craftsmen or farmers. My parents on the other hand can be described as intellectual hippies – my childhood home was filled with books on philosophy, classical music and Buddha-statues.

They had little in common with the locals and little interaction with them. I am happy for all the things that I’ve learned from my parents and for the amount of cultural capital I’ve received but I wish that I could have avoided the negative consequences of being the strange nerdy kid who liked to read and hated football.

My company was good enough for my classmates when they were copying my homework but they would never invite me over or do anything else to include me. Needless to say there were a lot of social skills that I didn’t learn.

Things were bad but they got worse once I got old enough to realise that girls were very interesting. As any normal kid would do, I fell in love with Trine, a girl from my class. I think she also had a crush on me. In the afternoons, she used to walk a dog and it often happened by ‘accident’ that I met her on my way home from school.

I was completely obsessed with Trine. When I today read some of the diaries and poems I wrote during that period I am shocked at how creepy I was. But I never said a single word about my crush. Being the strange kid with no confidence, the task of expressing interest in a girl was a monumental challenge. Eventually her interest in me died out and she found other guys to be with.

But people are not stupid. Everybody was able to see that I was madly in love with her and as everybody who has ever been in a schoolyard would know, ‘strange fat kid being in love with someone’ is the best material a bully could ever wish for. I was ridiculed for being in love with Trine and I soon learned to associate love with humiliation and ridicule.

The years passed and I got to high school. I still had no confidence but gradually I gained a little and I got a few friends. But I was still unable to get a girlfriend. During my high school years, I only developed a crush on one girl, Luca. I met her at a high school party and I really don’t know how it happened but we managed to arrange a date. The days from the party to the date were the best days of my life. I was ecstatic about the fact that Luca had chosen me over all the other guys and that my long period of loneliness and unsatisfied desire finally seemed to be drawing to an end.

But then came the date. I arrived at the cinema with a spirit of hopeful anxiety and left with the same feeling the Polish cavalry must have had after having attacked German tanks with lances during World War 11. It was a complete disaster. It showed up that we were incompatible and had nothing in common. Our conversation consisted almost entirely of embarrassing silence and she soon became more interested in her cell phone than me.

This did nothing but reinforcing me in the belief that getting a girlfriend and getting rid of my virginity was a hopeless endeavour.

Time passed on and I graduated from high school. Until then I had comforted myself by the fact that I was not the only virgin and it is perfectly normal for some people to loose their virginity a little later. But being nineteen and on my way to university I could no longer use that excuse.

I moved away from home to go to law school. It was wonderful to get all that new freedom and meeting all the nice and intelligent people at the university. I was filled with hope – nobody knew me and I would be able to redefine myself as an ordinary outgoing guy with a completely normal relationship to the opposite sex. The gender ratio at law school was also in my favour with 60% of the students being female.

I got more confidence and became happier but I failed to make any real progress with the ladies. During my university years I have only been on dates with two girls and it didn’t work out. The first one came and visited me at home and I cooked her some dinner. The date was a nice experience for me since it learned me that a date can be a relaxed, down to earth thing but unfortunately there was no real spark between us and there never was a second date.

A while after, I had a date with Rikke. She was interested in me and I enjoyed the experience of having a girl wanting to be with me but I simply didn’t have any attraction to her. I stopped the thing after three dates.

How Not To Lose Your Virginity

Getting a girlfriend is at the top of my list of priorities but whenever I am in the vicinity of an attractive girl I run into a mental barrier. I am afraid of the entire situation, afraid of having to relate to another person in this completely new and unfamiliar way. I really want to flirt with her but my mind freezes and I’m completely unable to come up with anything to say so I just sit there in quiet desperation and watch some other guy taking her.

I simply don’t believe that I’m able to get a girlfriend. The girls at the university intimidates me – they are so pretty, so confident and so much in control of their lives. I feel that I’ve got nothing to offer them, at least not something that other guys cannot give them.

My body image doesn’t help me achieving my goal of getting a girlfriend. I have never been into sports or exercise and I love good food so it is no wonder that I’m somewhat obese and out of shape. To me it seems I have found a very effective way to preserve virginity. All you need to stay a virgin is fear of your preferred sex, lack of belief in your own personal qualities and a poor body image.

Inside The Virgin’s Head

Being a virgin after your teens is not a preferable situation, especially if you’re a man. Virginity is something one has to hide as if it was some terrible crime. Most people view virgins as pathetic losers who should just make more of an effort.

Being a virgin makes me feel inadequate and less a man than my peers. It is if there is a hole inside me where all the wonderful feelings of love and sexual desire should have been and this empty hole hurts. The physical pressure can be alleviated but I have found nothing that can compensate for the lack of emotional connection.

My virginity has also leads me to having some very ugly emotions from time to time. Misogyny is dangerously close and I would be lying if I were saying that there have never been moments where I have blamed my situation on the female sex. Luckily that disgusting feeling disappears quickly. Envy and virginity often goes hand in hand for me. When I see a couple kissing or hear people talk about their relationships, I ask myself what I have done not to deserve that.

Why isn’t it me being so happy and so in love? When I see what I can’t have it feels like an ice pick is being driven through my chest. I know that I ought to be happy on the behalf of those who are actually experiencing love, but I just want it to be my turn to be sitting at a park bench kissing.

I have read all the self-help books I could get my hands on and flooded every relevant Internet board and advice column in an attempt to figuring out how to defeat virginity. But nobody seems to have a clue about
how to do it. Telling people to wait and let things happen by themselves offers no help at all.

My description can seem depressing, and being a virgin when everybody else are having normal sex lives is depressing - but luckily life consists of more than sexuality and romance and I don’t go around feeling bad about my virginity all day long. I have great friends with whom I have fun and a loving family. I can appreciate the beauty in art, literature and music and I like being at university. Actually I would have nothing to complain about if it wasn’t for my virginity.

Yours sincerely

Regner’

Porn again teenagers...

I think I have just fallen in love with……..the Midwest Teen Sex Show. Anyone who is telling teenagers what they really want to know is performing a public service as far as I am concerned. Of course no-one is suggesting they actually go out and do any of this stuff, but if they do, at least they’ll be equipped for any eventuality.

There’s a neat video about ‘the first time’ on this excellent site but I like the latest offering - everything you need to know about porn. Rock on kids.

And check it out here:

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!

Let them eat cake...

This little story always sticks in my mind. It concerns a friend of mine and I shall call her Jane. Jane was completely and utterly obsessed with her mother’s copy of ‘The Secret Garden’. In the unlikely event that you haven’t heard of this book, here it is. Just the world’s best selling book of female sexual fantasies.

My friend would sneak upstairs when her mother wasn’t looking, take the book down from the shelf and revel in a world of sexual licentiousness that she didn’t fully understand, but that she knew she had to know about.

One day she was reading the book upstairs whilst her mother and a friend sunned themselves in the garden.

‘Where is Jane?’ She heard the friend asking her mother.

‘Oh’, she answered, ‘she’s probably upstairs reading that book again.’

My point, asides from acute embarrassment on behalf of my friend? Teenagers will do anything to get their mitts on the information they need. If you don’t provide it, they will just go and find it anyway. Nancy Friday wasn’t the only woman providing it. Men, you may as well switch off at this point because you won’t know what I am talking about. Women: Judy Blume.

In a thirty-year career that involved writing fiction for young people, Judy Blume has sold over 75 million books. Can I just let that figure linger a little longer? (A bit like the scene from Steve Martin’s ‘The Jerk’ when he writes the cheque and realises that there are several more noughts on the figure than he first thought?)

Seventy-five m-i-l-l-i-o-n books.

People all over the world read ‘Forever’. A story about two young people embarking on their first sexual relationship. It was naughty and it was nice - but not nice enough. To tell a tale of love that involved sex between two young people and no drastic consequences was a little too much for Middle America. To this day, she is one of American’s most banned authors.

Love her or loathe her, she has performed a public service. She still receives hundreds of letters and emails every day. This woman and others like her have helped to make the world an easier place to be for young people. Which is a long way of telling you that I found this little gem in last week’s ‘Stella’. Let the lady herself tell you her own story. It’s worth a read.

Tori – Part Two

Discovering that true intimacy means being mentally naked – just as much as it involves the physical shedding of clothes was one of the great revelations of my life. Perhaps that is why this story resonates and also why, after all the wonderful stories I have been sent, this is an all time favourite.

Some of us spend years searching for someone we can be naked with. Tori has gone in at the top. Ok, soul searching was involved, religion had its say too but she got there in the end. I don’t think I am ruining the story by telling you that it was worth the wait.

The moment….

We joke that sex was my twentieth birthday present. It was actually a month and a day after that we had sex, but it was around my birthday that we set about exploring in earnest.

I'm not sure what changed. I knew from the beginning that if things worked out between G and I, we would have sex at some point. I worried about timing, about starting this before we were sure that I could cope with being in a relationship with him, let alone sex. But I woke up on my birthday, and, without fanfare or angst, it seemed right. Now was as good a time as any. I spent a large part of my twentieth birthday learning to give a hand job. It was only when someone rang me at four in the afternoon that I remembered that it was in fact my birthday.

I had never been touched before. I was - am still - very tense. At first, what should have been pleasure responses registered as pain. All the sensitive nerves in my vulva exploded in sharp stabbing fire. He was so gentle and patient with me, backing off until I was ready to try again. Time, patience, and the pleasure responses balanced out the pain. G encouraged me to touch myself before he attempted to finger me. He lay there and coaxed me and encouraged me and reminded me that there was no way to get it wrong, as long as it felt good.

I relaxed enough that he could slide his finger inside of me. The muscles around the outside were tight and painful, but inside... I had no idea of what to expect and was overwhelmed. I tried to curl up into a ball around these new sensations and cried ‘what is this, what is this?’ Those first few times, even before the pain receded, were the most intense. I had no time to worry about what was going to happen next, I lost myself in the moment. I didn't notice when my hymen broke because - for the first time, that day, there was no pain at all when he touched me.

We stuck with that for a while. As a matter of honour, he maintained that we were going no further before the end of semester, when I would have a chance to catch my breath and make sure everything was ok. Everything was ok. The half-expected reality check never happened. Neither of us came to our senses and recovered from our insanity.

Sex itself took several false starts. The first try, I freaked out at the last moment. G had apparently expected this, but I was confused and taken aback. For a large part, at that point I just wanted to get past the first time, to have it out of the way so that I didn't have to worry about the unknown. But that unknown scared me enough that I just couldn't do it.

I don't know what was different the next time but we started messing around a bit with different positions, on the basis that if we were going to have false starts we might as well have some variety to them. Somewhere, one of them worked.

We had to stop and start again a bit the first time. I remember feeling mostly confused, having to process a bunch of new sensations. The physical intimacy, the discomfort, new and (mostly) good feelings. It hurt - even now, a month or so later, the moment of penetration is still uncomfortable for me, but I didn't care. We had sex again quite soon afterwards, this time with me on top. It was that second time that the whole sex thing clicked for me. G tells me I had my mouth hanging open in a most unladylike manner, as I lost track of everything around me, even him beneath me.

When I came back to earth I freaked out a little, surprised by the intensity that had taken me. G gave me space to myself for a while and I sat on his stairs while he pottered around, and took stock. I think I had to make sure that I hadn't in fact lost anything, that I was still the same person. Which I was, and am. Virginity loss hasn't changed a lot of things. I still don't know what I'm doing half the time; I'm still getting comfortable with myself, and sex - and G. I'm still easily overwhelmed or frightened by it all.

That's ok, though, because this isn't really about first time sex. It's about G, and I, and having a relationship and sex, which is loving and safe and honouring to both of us. Which also happens to be awesome sex. Even when it's Bad Sex, when we're uncoordinated and tired and nothing quite works, it's still awesome - gentle and tender and patient and funny. It doesn't matter how long it takes to work it all out - right now it feels like we have all the time in the world.

I have been so incredibly lucky to find G. People spend half their lives reading chick lit and waiting for something like this to come along. This is the sort of relationship the True Love Waits society tells you is 'worth the wait'. And it is, no arguments. If I thought they were right, that premarital abstinence was the only way to have a relationship like this, I'd sign the card right away. Clearly, their prescribed method of achieving this isn't the only route, though. It doesn't matter if G and I are only together for a year, or three or thirty. What matters is that it is true and honest and loving, right now.

I'd like to say this is all I've ever hoped for, but to be honest this is nothing like what I'd hoped for. I've been a cynical person, with little tolerance for pipe dreams, regardless of whether it's chick lit or the church who are offering them. If I expected anything at all, it was a comfortable friendship which would drift slowly into a relationship and commitment. Somewhere along the line there'd be sex. But G happened along, and all I can say is that if I ever settle for second best, I'll know what I'm missing.

Afterwards

‘I just wonder’, you asked me Kate, ‘if real love is that much of a strong emotion that it forces us - albeit in a very pleasant way, to re-assess everything we thought we knew’...?

‘Real Love’ has caused me to reassess many things. Not the things I thought I knew, but the things I worried about not knowing. How would I know when I found ‘a sexual relationship which enriches you as an individual’? What, exactly, did that consist of? What would it look like?

Maybe, had G. and I not had this silly instant connection, all those questions would still be difficult. But I knew this in the same way that I knew I loved him. I knew it, because I knew it. I can't describe how I know it, but hopefully I have described to others what that knowledge feels like.

To return to ‘losing’ my virginity. They tell you that your virginity is the greatest gift you can give your partner, but I cannot feel that I have given away anything. Oh, G. is damn special, and has every reason to feel so, but there are many things I have given him – love, trust and instruction on the fine art of constructing a paragraph.

When it comes to sex, it is he who has given, and I who have received. G. turned up in my life and gave me a safe space in which to explore. He gave me no pressure, and no boundaries to fear. I had slammed the door shut on an uncontrolled wilderness that I could not understand. G. turned that into a room full of playpen balls and told me I could do what I liked with them.

In twenty years time, my virginity will be only a memory, but G has given me something which will last my lifetime: my body, all wrapped up with a metaphorical bow on it, and a free demonstration, of the ‘look what it can do’ variety. I still have a lot to learn, a lot to explore... but I'm not doing it alone.

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’?

The mirror crack'ed

You really can’t ask for more than to Google the words, ‘Halloween’ and ‘virginity’ on 31st of October and come up with a story of Grade A solid-gold creepiness. Click here, if you dare, and witness the horror, the sheer unabashed terror that is David Farrant. If I could put that name into great big spooky capitals, I would. Instead, take look at the picture and imagine a man who has apparently ‘bedded’ 2000 women.

And then Google some more words. ‘In’, ‘your’ and ‘dreams’ should do the trick.

But it’s not all about petrifying ghouls on the one night in the year when the veil between the spirit world and ourselves becomes blurred. It is also a time to plant new seeds and to generally take stock of whatever you might have harvested recently. To this end, The Virginity Project is taking a very brief hiatus whilst it harvests a rather large seed of its own. We have a couple of ‘T’s to cross and a few I’s to dot here at the project…so be assured that normal service will resume ASAP.

In the meantime, perhaps abstinence is an option? If so, here’s some advice - just in case you fall off the wagon.

Good vibrations...

It's now an oldie, but by god, its a goodie.

Here is the second of two, now legendary, 'abstinence education' virals made by technicalvirgin.com

Priceless.

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.