The Virginity Project

First times of another kind...

So by now you probably know that the ‘first kiss’ viral was allegedly an ad for a clothing company or a cynical plot to extract your money as one British broadsheet puts it….but I still don’t think that takes away from the essence of the content. It remains appealing to the public mostly, I imagine, because content of a more racy, aggressive, frequently devoid of human warmth & emotion, not to mention completely mis-representational of what most of us get up to behind closed doors is par for the course these days.

This film taps into the febrile nervousness, vulnerability and hopefully intimacy that most of us will encounter, no matter what age we are, where we come from or what decade we live in - or were born in - when we get up close and personal with another human being for the first time in reality. Some things don’t change. Here is one of them. Amen.

 

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Oh happy day!

I couldn't have picked a better place for an article about The Virginity Project if I had tried. Here is the link to yesterday's feature in the Observer Magazine about yours truly and this blog. Many thanks to those who helped to make it happen.  You know who you are!

I couldn't have picked a better place for an article about this blog if I had tried. Here is the link to yesterday's feature in the Observer Magazine about yours truly and this blog. So many thanks to those who helped make it happen.  You all know who you are!

To pro or not to pro..

I took part in this show last night on the BBC World Service. Asides from the thrill of going to Bush House – it’s very grand – it was an interesting experience because it raised that old chestnut again…the very modern phenomenon of auctioning one’s virginity, in this case, on a reality TV show. Although as I write this, I am wondering, is the auctioning of one’s virginity really such a modern concept? After all, patriarchal societies, of which we were one until quite recently, have been auctioning off women’s virginities for years. Word has it that even Lady Diana Spencer was tested for the presence of virginity before she married Prince Charles despite the fact that as any sane person knows, there is no definitive test for the presence of virginity. I digress. None of this will do anything to soothe the jangled nerves of any of the people who phoned in to give Justin Sisley, the maker of this show/documentary and one of his participants, Mark, a 23 year old gay man a bit of stick.

And I hear them, I really do. One woman phoned in to say that she has a young daughter and that she hoped that she never ever got to see a show where young men and women are auctioning off their virginity. I concur, from that point of view; it is indeed a revolting concept (although personally speaking, I find reality shows offensive before we even get to the auction part of the equation).

What makes me laugh is the assumption that the filmmaker is doing this in an effort to get famous/make money/exploit people. I don’t know Justin Sisley. He sounded like an intelligent man to me and perhaps he does want to have his five minutes in the sun but either way, it is highly unlikely that he has the ability to force people to auction off their virginity on a live TV show against their will. Do we want to watch them do it? Thats another question and in answer, I can’t help thinking that what Justin is proposing - above and beyond the whole tedious reality show concept and the questionable selling of first sexual experiences - is interesting and I’ll tell you why….

I have interviewed a lot of people about virginity loss for my book. I also receive a lot of stories on my blog. The age range of these people has been from 13, all the way up to 101 years old. To put that into context, the stories run from 1927 up to the present day. To say that these stories differ in content is an understatement but one thing does not change. No matter how sexualised our society has become or how inured we may have become to it, we do not value our intimate encounters, particularly our first ones, any the less. Even if you are not tied to the idea of virginity being that special, once only, I have to save it for the ‘right one’ type of experience, or even if it is something that you intend to dispense with in a practical, I need to get rid of this quickly type manner, it still doesn’t mean that you want to share this experience with the rest of world. Of all the people that I ever interviewed, only one of them wanted to be identified by her real name. Most of my blog correspondents write to me under assumed names. It doesn’t matter how you view your virginity, it’s too tender, it’s too vulnerable, in short, it’s your first sexual step into the adult world and as such, most of us want to take that step without the addition of a camera crew. For this reason, I will be fascinated to see if Justin’s participants are prepared to go through with an experience that mostly happens behind very closed doors. As far as I am concerned, this is where the heart of this story lies...it’s not about prostitution or the potential exploitation of people who may not know any better, at least not to me. It’s about privacy, vulnerability and intimacy...or the lack of it.

To the lady who doesn’t want her daughter to see this show, I still hear you but I also think that we need to credit young people with more intelligence. This show is not going to encourage young people to sell their virginity. If anything, it’s going to put them off losing it altogether.

Finally, and for some reason, I couldn’t really say why, as I sat firmly within the beating heart of British broadcasting yesterday, the news went rippling through the news room that Gordon Brown, our prime minister, was about to resign. Our transmission came to an abrupt end as we arrived, metaphorically speaking, on the doorstep of Ten Downing Street. Love him or hate him, I liked Gordon Brown’s departing speech, but what was most intriguing, amongst all this discussion of patriarchy, prostitution and tradition, was his assertion that he was about to give up his ‘second most important job’, that’s the one that comes after his first most important job - husband and father to his wife and children respectively. Gordon Brown, unwittingly or not, ended up making the last, and most modern statement of the day.

Teenage kicks..

The Virginity Project has a day job and as such, one is pleased to spend one’s current tenure at the agency that is responsible for this work.

On the whole, even when you have acknowledged that losing your virginity was hardly the most exciting moment of your life, most of the stories that I receive are ‘above board’. That is to say, you lost your virginity for the right reasons. It may have been awkward, embarrassing or even downright painful but despite the fact that the angels did not get the chance to sing from the rooftops, you accept that it is the first step forward, hopefully of many interesting ones. The most important part is that you felt you had a choice, you didn’t feel that you were coerced into something. Coercion is a funny old concept - in the non hilarious sense of the word – and to this end, the Home Office is right on the money with this campaign.

The Home Office are primarily trying to get to grips with the shocking fact that a quarter of teenage girls in a relationship will suffer physical violence. This research, by the NSPCC, also suggests that a further third will suffer an unwanted act. I think that most people’s jaws will drop when they read these statistics. I know mine did.

I don’t get a lot of really bad stories, perhaps because people don’t want to tell them. I won’t be forgetting the one’s that I do get in a hurry. But what also worries me is the amount of stories I get that involve coercion, and that’s the awful thing about coercion…it is what it is. Physical pressure may not have been applied, but mental pressure was. It’s a thin line.

Words like ‘frigid’ are powerful. Time and again this word appears, in the interviews that I have done for my book and in your correspondence. I am no stranger to this word myself.  I can see it like it happened yesterday. Me and my friends are fourteen years old, fifteen at tops, swinging our feet on a park bench and Dave Randall* is screeching hysterically at us across the playground after we had clearly rebuffed him once too often:

‘You lot are just SO frigid’.

The truth was that none of us fancied him. He worked in a fish and chip shop and he smelt of fish and grease. But not one of us wanted to hear him say that word. It was an uncomfortable indictment for a 14-year-old girl to deal with. As it happens, his words didn’t make a lot of difference, plus there was hardly room for coercion whilst sitting on a park bench with your friends in the park but I think you see where I am going with this. In a one to one situation, one might not feel that one has got ‘back up’so to speak.

I often think that the one thing that has changed women’s lives beyond recognition, physically, mentally and emotionally, is also the thing that gave us a new set of challenges to deal with. The contraceptive pill liberated generations of women from the worry of pregnancy. All of a sudden, they could control their fertility. That’s no mean feat. Once they could do that, the sky was the limit. Education, careers and financial freedom followed. But the history of virginity changed radically at this point because all of a sudden, there was very little reason to keep it. A quote in Cate Haste’s wonderful book ‘Rules of Desire, Sex in Britain, World War 1 to the Present’, sums it up:

‘Another student living outside London recalled the freedom of being in a mini-skirt, on the pill, and picking up an invitation from a man she’d recently met in 1967: I had the feeling there was no pretence any more. No games to be played. No way I could say ‘be careful with me’, or ‘watch out for my emotions’, or worry if I get pregnant, or think of my honour, or that my parents wouldn’t like it….’

The floodgates had opened so to speak. As far as many men were concerned, it was game on. These changes challenged women on every level. They were challenged to be their best selves, to fulfil their dreams and their ambitions but most of all; they were challenged to make autonomous decisions about their own bodies and needs, contrary to what other people might want. In a modern, ‘sex on every street corner, advertising hoarding and the internet’ world, it still isn’t always easy to do this, particularly when you are a 15 year old girl.

*Deep sigh* as they say in the digital world. In the end, it’s all about finding our voices and the ability to express our needs, whether they be sexual, emotional, physical or financial. It’s all part of the monumental journey that pretty much every woman has been on for the last god knows how long. Unfortunately, often through no fault of our own, some of us are better equipped to use our voices than others and it is for those people that this campaign is designed. Physical violence is clearly a bad thing. Nobody would argue with that, but for every young person who has ever been talked into something that they didn’t want to do, and possibly even been belittled for it as well, it is for you as well.

And my ten cents worth? The best thing a young person can ever do is this. Follow the one thing that will never abandon you, even if you don’t do as it says – your gut instinct. It’s your friend for life.

For further information, visit the Home Office micro site, here.

*All names changed to protect the, er, smelly.

Fresh off the press..

The Sun Newspaper is looking for three women to tell their virginity loss stories for the Women’s pages. If you meet the criteria below and are happy to be identified, get in touch with Laura. You will be handsomely paid for your effort. Here is the brief:

‘My request: I am looking for 3 women - max age 35 now - who are happy to tell me about the experiences of losing their virginity at different ages between 20 - 35 for our women's pages. (i.e. you can have lost it at 25 and be 35 now, but not have lost it at 35 and be 50 now).

I am looking for a mixture of different experiences - good, bad, funny and ugly tales are all of interest - but you must have been at least in your twenties when it happened. I am especially keen to find someone who waited until their later 20's/30's (perhaps because you wanted to wait for 'the one' or didn't believe in sex before commitment) and someone who was older than all her friends when she lost her virginity because she didn't like her body and wasn't confident naked. I also need to find someone who had a bad experience the first time.

All case studies must be happy to be named, to travel to London for a photo shoot to accompany the piece and should not have had their story published elsewhere at any time.

I can offer a fee of £250 and travel expenses to London for the photo shoot.

Please email me urgently at [email protected] if you are interested in taking part.

(Deadline Monday 8th June - please do not email about this after this date.)’

Yes, Twilight was my favourite film of 2008...

I have often wondered as I have read your first time stories how we ever get over that first experience of sexual love?  Whichever way you look at it, when it comes to ‘the first time’, it’s pretty hard to escape the experience unscathed.
We are young for a start and this is our first big disadvantage. We have no idea that there are actually a gazillion great experiences out there just waiting for us. That no matter how great – or terrible – that first time is, that it is just that. The first time.
Adults try to make us feel better by trotting out pointless lines like ‘There are plenty more fish in the sea dear’ whilst we lie there wondering if eight other words in the dictionary could be any harder to swallow than those.
We can’t win. Because whatever way you look at it, even if you had great first time, in fact, especially if you had a great first time, where does that leave you? Not just broken hearted but constantly seeking those heart stopping highs and those gut wrenching lows….that first tingling thrill and simultaneous disappointment of first love that we then spend the next gawd knows how long trying to replicate…
In an awful twist of irony, this fact was confirmed to me in a recent report in the Observer newspaper. ‘‘Remarkably, it seems that the secret to long-term happiness in a relationship is to skip a first relationship’ said Dr Malcolm Brynin, the editor and principle research officer at the Institute for Social and Economic Research at Essex University.
‘In an ideal world’, he continued, ‘you would wake up already in your second relationship’.
I knew it! Time travel is a necessity in order to survive modern life.
The article goes on: ‘while researching the components of successful long-term partnerships, Brynin found intense first loves could set unrealistic benchmarks, against which we judge future relationships. If you had a very passionate first relationship and allow that feeling to become your benchmark for a relationship dynamic, then it becomes inevitable that future, more adult partnerships will seem boring and a disappointment.
First love literally does your head in. Its official. But in the end, it’s all part and parcel of the growing up experience. You can’t actually teach this stuff to people. They have to learn it for themselves. Some get it quite quickly and others take a little longer. This must be one of the hardest parts of being a parent, to stand back and watch your child get his heart broken for the first time.
Suffice it to say, I have a story to illustrate this point. Actually I could have used this story to demonstrate the understandable attachment that people have to certain pieces of music in their lives but we’ll come back to that another day.
And don’t worry, there is redemption in the form of Professor Helen Fisher, a woman who has written widely and researched the concept of romantic love. She finishes up the Observer article by saying the following:
‘I have found incontrovertible, physiological evidence that romantic love can last’, she said. ‘It appears that romantic love exists not only to initiate pair-bonding but to maintain and enhance long term relationships.’
Here’s to that. 
Matthew Rock, California, US. Born 1990. Lost virginity aged 17
My story is more likely the type of story you don't hear about anymore. I remember the first day we had hung out. I had taken her to get some food after we had both been let off the clock at work. After spending the rest of the early evening with her, I started to get a feeling. I drove her home later that night and I sang songs to her making her laugh and appreciate the way I softly sang her countless love songs. After I dropped her off, I talked to her until 4:30 am on the phone.
I remember two days later we watched a movie at her house alone...then as Neyo and Plies sang ‘Bust it Baby’ on the radio.... we kissed for the first time. I edged to take her top off but I came to realize I wasn't even ready.
Eleven days of dating later, we had both came to the realization she was leaving for out of state, permanently. We thought that maybe what would happen would be something that would only be special between us and symbolize what we meant to each other. 
The next day I felt chills up and down my spine as I wondered to find the perfect spot. I valued this experience way more than most guys do and I wanted what was to come to be special. I had rented out a room at a nice hotel for later on that night. Room 108.
I rushed home and thought I should set the mood, so I made a CD I’d make love to. These are the songs I would become a man to:
‘This woman's work’ by Maxwell, ‘Love’ by Musiq Soulchild, ‘Do I Ever Cross your mind?’ by Brian McKnight, ‘If this world were mine’ by Luther Vandross, ‘Still in love with you’ by Brian McKnight, ‘You made a fool of me’ by India Arie and ‘Holding back the years’ Angie Stone.
I'll tell you....it was just like a movie. Her colours matched mine and I felt so ready for this night to be the most special one of my life. We ate Chinese food on the couch in the hotel watching some cheesy TV show because the DVD player wouldn't work. As she jokingly fell asleep on the bed saying she'd fall asleep and see me in the morning....I turned the lights off and nervously pressed play on the CD player........the song I’m listening to right now is the song I became a man to....’This woman's work’.
I slowly edged up the bed and worked my way on top of her. As we passionately kissed, we slowly started to take each other's clothes off. This really was a movie. It couldn't have happened any more perfectly. Except for the part where it took 2 minutes for my penis to get hard ha ha. After that frustrating battle, I put on the condom and got on top of her. I hadn't changed yet, but I took her bra off, as she covered them, nervously.
This wasn't her first time, but my nervousness had made her tremble, though in a good way. I knew I loved this girl and I felt my way inside and became a man. It lasted eighteen minutes (I know this because I counted the time elapsed over the songs played on the CD :D).
It was the most memorable moment of my life and I think about it almost every day since it had happened. She left and nothing has hurt my heart more or made it ache in such a way, but deep down I think I still love her.
That special night was the 17th of June, six days after my high school graduation. That was six months and fifteen nights ago. I don't think she knows it but she has been the love of my life since she made that one night the most incredible and special night of my whole life.
The CD I made, I listen to in my car almost every day when I’m alone and perhaps just think about her. I miss her a lot, but for my own good, I feel I can't see her because I need to let go of my past and create a future.....She's on my mind and the songs bring back every tender moment from that night.

Hair today, gone tomorrow...

This story was all over the web like a rash last week. In summary, Natalie Dylan, a 22-year-old student from San Diego, is auctioning her virginity off in order to pay for her master’s degree. Bids have apparently reached the 2.5 million pound mark. Her actions do not surprise me. Women fully comprehend their commoditized position in society today in a way that our grandparents did not. Nothing much has changed. In a bygone era, a father would have treated his daughter’s virginity in exactly the same manner. The only difference being that marriage would have been part of the package. Lucky for Natalie, this no longer applies.

Don’t think for a moment that I applaud her actions, but I am cogniscent of them. The part that I don’t get is that without the promise of marriage, what do the bidders actually think they are purchasing? What motivates a man to want to pay such a large sum of money to have sex with a girl, just once, that he will never see again? What deep, dark button is pushed inside a man that makes him think that this is a good use of his time? A woman would never think such a thing. Or so I thought…..until this little number arrived last week like a scene from a film script that I might get around to writing one day.

You could not make this up, but it’s true. And it just goes to show that men are not the only people to fetishsize something so intangible, so ephemeral that we barely even know that it exists. It literally lives inside our heads. And yet it changes lives forever. Read on and let me know what you think.

David. Born 1980. Lost virginity aged 13.

‘Kate,

I am twenty-eight and I live in the United States.  I lost my virginity when I was thirteen years old to a prostitute.  Most of my buddies were bragging about the sex they had and I did not know how to approach any of the girls I knew. 

One day, I worked up the nerve to approach a street whore for sex.  It cost me $40.  I was visibly nervous and she realized I was a virgin.  She told me everything would be ok and she took me back to the one room apartment she had.  She told me she loved having boys loose their virginity to her and she also told me about the number of thirteen and fourteen year old boys she experienced. 

She laid me down on the mattress and began to undress me.  I was literally scared stiff.  She pulled my pants off and and stared with amazement at my hard-on.  Before she put my dick her in her mouth, she said ‘you will remember me for the rest of your life’.  It was the most amazing experience of my life.  I remember cumming in her mouth and she swallowed.  She let me finger her and explore her body.  By the time I was done, I was hard again. When she saw this, she offered to fuck me on one condition and that was when we were done, she would get to shave my pubic hairs. 

She told me told me she keeps them as a trophy of her conquests and she showed me the pubic hairs of every boy whose ‘cherry she popped’ and she had the boys' names and dates when they lost their virginity.  She got on top of me and then fucked my brains outs.  I can remember the intensity in her body as she fucked me.  Her muscles were strained and the area between her breasts and neck were red with blood.  I remember her screaming when she had her orgasm.  I eventually blew my load in her.  She then got her razor out and shaved my dick completely bald and was laughing while she did it.  Stupidly, I gave her my name and she put my hairs into the envelope, which she then sealed.  I have wanted to tell this story, but not to anyone I knew.

Thanks...D’

Be VERY prepared....

Firstly, I would like to draw your attention back to Adrian’s blog. Not just because I love it, but also because I am itching to do something similar with The Virginity Project. Can you imagine a better way to get to the heart of a country than by travelling its length and breadth and asking its inhabitants to tell you about an experience that transcends age, era and cultural background? It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from, the one thing that I can guarantee is that every single person you ever encounter has an interesting story to tell you about virginity loss. Even the ones who say ‘Oh my story’s not that interesting’. In fact, especially the ones who tell you their story isn't that interesting. They are usually the ones with the tales that'll make you blush.

Needless to say, The Virginity Project lies in bed every night, clutching a map of America to its breast and dreaming of fulfilling its deepest desire to interview the great and the good, (and possibly even the bad) of America. I have one taker already. The fabulous Susie Bright has invited me to step off the train at San Jose and interview her about her own experience, so who knows, my dream may yet come true.

Speaking of culture - and Adrian - who is cycling across America and playing Scrabble with the people that he meets, I keep meaning to write and tell him about the gaff he keeps making. He refers to his Scrabble playing meetings as ‘hooking up’. Adrian, hooking up doesn’t mean quite the same thing in America and unless you want to add a much more interesting (and, in my opinion, challenging) element to the games of Scrabble that you are playing, you might want to rethink your terminology.

Secondly, I heart this story. At times, being British can feel like a fag (there's another word that’s always worth misunderstanding). Until you read stuff like this that is. It’s a story about boy scouts being taught sex education as part of the scouting curricular. I love the fact that certain factions of the ‘establishment’ are open minded enough to say what they really think and get with the program. Because the fact is that boys of this age are thinking about having sex. They might not actually be doing it but you can bet your bottom dollar that they are at least planning to try at the earliest opportunity. The least we can do is to help them ‘be prepared’. Sorry, crappy joke that had to be made. 

Predictably, The Telegraph chose to quote the director of the Christian Voice campaign group in response to this story.

"They should be encouraging young people in their care to have respect for girls and live a life of chastity and fidelity," said Stephen Green, national director of the Christian Voice campaign group.

Once again, I am staggered at how much people feel the need to disable young people by not telling them the facts about sex. And just to give you an idea of what a boy scout is capable of if he really puts his mind to it, I posted the following conversation on this very blog last year:

'It went something like this….

Creative guy: Are you here next week?

Me: No.

Creative guy: What are you doing?

Me: My own work.

Creative guy: What’s that then?

I explain what I do with the rest of my life.

Him: Uh, really? God, you should hear the story about how my kid brother got rid of his virginity…

Me: Oh yes, how’s that then?

Creative guy:  He went on a scout trip to Holland and lost his virginity to a prostitute.

Me: Excuse me?

Creative guy: Yes, he was thirteen and he lost his virginity to a prostitute on a scout camp trip……..’

I rest my case. The fact of the matter is that young people will have sex whether we tell them to or not so we may as well arm them with as much information – and contraception  – as possible. Like we ever listened to a word our parents ever said when they told us not to do stuff? And like it’s really any different now? I don’t think so.

Judgement day....

 

Anyone who knows me will know that I have a little penchant for the law - in the shape of my old blogging buddy, Charon QC. So imagine my surprise to find myself the owner of not one, but two law blogging buddies…Victoria Pynchon is officially my new best blogging friend. And not only that, but she is also today’s guest writer.

Ms Pynchon and I have amused ourselves with various matters this week. To which end, she will write a virginity themed post on her law blog and I’ll tell you how she lost her virginity. Result!

Meanwhile, it seems churlish not to ponder on the twin concepts of virginity and law, even for just a moment. I shall leave the technical stuff to Victoria but I did google the two words together just to see what would happen and I decided to make a large generalization as a result.

When it comes to virginity, the law appears to side with men. Ok, ok, times have changed. Heck, ‘The 40 year old Virgin’ was a hit on this side of the Atlantic too you know. In the modern age, virginity can be equally applicable to men as it can be to women. Except when it comes to the law.

Because what’s with this? Which, in case you can’t be bothered to read it is the story of the man who asked for his marriage to be annulled because his wife lied about being a virgin. Again with the, ‘I know, I know’. His point was that she lied. What she lied about was not the point.

Even still, can you imagine a woman giving a flying f**k if the man she married was not a virgin? This beggars belief. And if you’d like to find out the whole story, have a look here. And here.

I decided to finish up by contradicting myself. (It’s a good thing I’m not a lawyer no?). Here is a story about a lady who has sued her partner to the tune of 1 mill for taking her virginity and then not marrying her. So, it would seem, all’s well that ends well. Lady, I like your style.

Victoria Pynchon. Born 1952, lost virginity aged 17

‘When can I say I lost my virginity?  Was it in February of 1970 in my senior year of high school when I spent four hours kissing my brand new boyfriend on the stiff cloth of a Ramada Inn mattress in Torrance, California?  I did dramatic interpretation and he was a debater who'd decided just that morning that I had great legs.  I was seventeen years old and this was my first and my 230th, kiss.

When we finally parted at 3 am, I stumbled into my speech coach’s room crying and choked out these words:  ‘I think I’m a slut.’  Coach Norma Basgall said soothing and reassuring things but it was no comfort.  I know people who have smoked crack cocaine.  Reputable people.  Lawyers in fancy firms.  The experience they describe is how I felt that evening in Torrance.  No matter what anyone said, I knew immediately I was addicted.  I knew there would be a price to pay.  

Months of agonizing followed.  The ‘sexual revolution’ hadn’t arrived in La Mesa, California in 1970.  Those unfortunates whose loss of virginity resulted in pregnancy were shuttled away to local ‘continuation’ high schools.  They were never mentioned again.  It was as if they'd never existed.  If we'd lived in the U.S.S.R., their photos would have been excised from the school history books - the yearly ‘Annual.’

My friends and I were wiser.  We read what we could get our hands on, (it was the year of the bestseller ‘Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Sex but Were Afraid to Ask’).  Planned Parenthood was in the news because it advocated a woman's right to control her own reproductive cycle.  Sadly, still a hot issue almost forty years later.

Until we got ‘the pill’ -- gratis and without parental consent, we eschewed ‘penetration.’ This wasn't just pregnancy prevention.  It was about virginity. The farther we went – first, second and third ‘base’ – the more alternatively repulsed and excited we were.  We explored with our boyfriends and reported back to the girls.  We explored everything and our experimentation lasted for hours.  Entire afternoons.  Late enough into the night that mothers became alarmed and fathers cleared their throats to deliver stern warnings.  We believed we were the first generation ever to wheel completely out of their control. 

The moment of reckoning took place at my friend Judie's pool party in July of 1970. We were freshly graduated from high school, poised to make or break ourselves and our nascent plans for the long empty plain of adult-hood that stretched both tantalizingly and frighteningly before us.  Brad and I made our way to the darkened bedroom of Judie's older brother.  He'd made his getaway to U.C. Berkeley two years before and hadn’t been inclined to come home for pool-party summers with the family.  He was the dark figure of our future beckoning to us.

This is what I remember.  The taste of peanut better and the scent of chlorine.  The anxiety and excitement of the long-awaited penetration.  There was something hard inside of me.  And then it was over.  Thirty seconds?  Sixty?  We were both virgins.  I remember this.  I was incredibly annoyed.  That was it?  That was what I’d been holding myself against for months and my mother had been hectoring me about ever since I brought this sweet-faced blonde boy home for dinner?  That was the ‘sacred’ act my parents wanted me to ‘wait until I was married’ to experience.  That was what the fuss was all about?  

The kissing had been better than consummation.

I don't believe we spoke to one another after that.  We pulled our bathing suits back on and slunk out of the dark bedroom and back into the brilliant summer Southern California sun.  I remember the way the light reflected off of each wave of sharp blue water and the high, light laughter of my girlfriends.  Their knowing smiles. You could tell they wanted to adjourn the party, send the boys home and hear the story.  I was the first and they’d been waiting for me to take the plunge. 

I dove into the pool, swam two laps under the surface and emerged sputtering, laughing, and shaking my head in puzzlement over the adult world I’d just entered.  A world that was far less fraught with danger but much more complex and nuanced than I’d been capable of imagining. 

The ‘sixties’ would arrive in San Diego in my first year of college.  Or maybe that was just when they arrived for me.  Sex became commonplace before I decided conquest was insufficiently arresting to justify the moment when I'd wish whatever stranger was in my bed would just go home. 

When did I lose my virginity?  Not that summer day at the pool.  I lost my innocence the night my sexual desire caught fire on a lumpy mattress in Torrance, California.  The evening I first experienced passion, carnal bliss, and regret at the very same time.’