Tell us about yourself:

My name is Moise–or Moses in English. I’m a 17-year-old male and I live in Canada, Quebec Province, Montreal City. I’m French Canadian.

How do you define virginity?

Virginity is a concept that is not well defined, to some people it’s any sexual intercourse including “solo sex,” others is only through “penetration.” For me this concept is yet abstract. I declare myself as a virgin because I prefer to see myself as inexperienced, untouched. The reality of it is that I gave oral to a female once and that is the only sexual intercourse I’ve had.

Tell us your story

I personally had my first sexual intercourse around 13 or 14. Back then I did not care much for the concept of virginity and I tried losing it multiple times, but I never had the opportunity. Except once, I was with a female, I gave her oral, but it ended then because she did not want to go further because she was molested as a child.

Eventually I grew older and my mind also did. I was tired of getting rejected over and over again so I kinda gave up and I started to think that there was more to sex and love. So I set myself some “rules” about the first time. I think I must be with a women I love and that loves me back, feel something special and at least have a decent appearance, does not need to be perfect, or a celebrity, but I’m not even sure about that one. For the personality, I don’t know, it’s a bit tricky. I hope that I can share at least one common interest together, she thinks forward for her future and that she does not starts talking about marriage, kids or those kinda things, that she’s able to live one day at the time.

The only exception is if I did not find the “right one” after I’m 25 or so then I just let myself loose and look for casual sex. I want to have “sexual experience,” eventually.

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They’ve been doing great work on “How to Lose Your Virginity” behind the scenes for the last several months. Now, Judy will be writing weekly posts on sex and being a real-life 20-something–and her first post will be about not having sex for 2 years. Libby has taken over as the new editor for V-Card Diaries (our most popular feature!), for both the blog and the new interactive version. We’re really excited to have them here and hope you enjoy their work & leave lots of comments!

Libby F. is a recent graduate of Vassar College and a talented writer and researcher. She’s done posts on being a virgin at Cosmo and the hymenology of Awkward. If you work in television, you should hire her!

Judy Park is an art history student at Brown University who is interested in the intersections of art, politics, race, class, and gender. She is proud to be a woman, though she thinks it’s not always easy to be one. Check out her self-portrait (above).

Do you want to write for this blog?  Send us a note here.

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Sophie Fontanel, a chic, intelligent, and attractive editor at Elle France is creating quite the stir with her new memoir, L’Envie, to be published in the United States this year as The Art of Sleeping Alone. It recounts the 12 years she spent abstinent after years of dating and getting tangled up in the hungry legs of men who offered mediocre and unsatisfying sex. One day, she went on a solo skiing trip and pretty much had the best time of her life. She remembers it as a momentous, liberating experience that launched her pursuit of abstinence.

As you’d expect, her book is getting mixed reactions. As The Atlantic‘s coverage reports, readers’ responses are split. When I brought up the content of this book with some of my friends (all in their early 20s), the response was unanimous: “12 years?! She went 12 years without sex? But she’s French! That’s a really long time. Imagine how much she missed out on during those years.”

There were a few who were impressed by her ability to have “self-control” and “that kind of discipline,” as if she were somehow punishing herself or testing her limits for some kind of masochistic, freak project. A lot of them couldn’t figure out why a single, “normal” woman, who had no apparent flaws, would have a no-sex policy during her prime time. I mean, YOLO, right? Shouldn’t we all be putting ourselves out there (especially while we’re young and sexy), going home with a different bed buddy every night? My best friend, for example, is a sex-oozing creature who does embody this whole free love mentality, going on noncommittal, exciting dates with strangers she meets in bars and having lots of good, fun sex.

And then there are also people like me, a fresh, budding 22-year-old who just doesn’t really care much for sex. I haven’t had sex for almost 2 years now (and when you’re this age and living in this sex-centered cultural climate as a college student, it feels like eons). It’s not as if I proclaimed one day, “I’m going to be abstinent from this day forward.” I guess you could say I’m passively abstinent, but not because men/women aren’t sexually attracted to me or I’m not sexually attracted to men/women. I have had bad relationship models that have colored my experience and resistance to intimacy. But that’s not the whole story, and I’d hate for people to pathologize and assume that if someone chooses not to have sex, there must be some monumental reason that requires lots of psychoanalytic evaluation.

That’s why Rachel Hills’ TEDx talk, “Understanding the Sex Myth,” resonates with me so much. In sum, she talks about the anxiety and pressure we often feel to live up to some kind of sexual standard in our oversexed society. We compare our sex lives to those of others (or the idea we have about how much sex everyone else is having) because we feel this is what defines us. Most of the people I hang out with, and therefore compare myself to, have multiple partners and do have sex on a regular basis, so I was blown away by some of the statistics she presented. For example, the National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent Health found that the most common number of sexual partners an unmarried 18-23 year old will have in a given year is just 1. Because I presumed that everyone around me was always having so much sex, there were times when I felt like an oddball, like something was wrong with me.

Sometimes, I simply don’t give a damn about sex and don’t feel stimulated, end of story. This is not to say I don’t get the hots because let me be the first to admit that sexy thoughts are on my mind every day. And that’s important because I consider myself a sexual being, even when I’m not engaging in the physical act of sex. I love the idea of sex, but it hasn’t played out that well in real life: I’ve had unremarkable sex where I’d be penetrated repeatedly, and it just felt “mechanical,” as Fontanel puts it. I’d look up at the ceiling and wonder, “When is this gonna end? I would really rather just go to sleep.”

Fontanel claims that some of her peers branded her as “frigid, abnormal, bitter, neurotic, a lesbian.” I’ve been called similar things in the past. But there are actually a substantial number of women and men who appreciate her courage and relate to her feelings about sex. What it really comes down to is choice, but our culture is rather good at providing repercussions for our individual, sexual decisions: if you have lots of sex, you’re a slut; if you choose not to have sex, for non-religious/ non-cultural reasons, you’re a prude or a lesbian. I like to think that my sexuality is fluid—that I can have casual, exciting sex with someone in one moment, whenever that may be, and not bother with sex at all the next, for as long as I please.

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m 17, female, and I live in southeastern Pennsylvania.

How do you define virginity?

I think virginity is the point where you’re comfortable enough to share your body with someone and not worry about what comes after.

Tell us your story

I was usually that odd girl out. I didn’t hang out much with friends, though I was always friendly and ready to talk. I never had a boyfriend. I have some things to work out mentally before I commit to someone for any length of time. I was always aware of my body. I’ve been running track for years and I’m pretty good at gauging myself mentally and physically. A few years ago, I struggled with an eating disorder and a lot of mental stuff, but I came through with flying colors and I consider myself strong for it.

A little while ago, I decided I was ready to take the next step in my quest for a full life and able body. To me, that meant seeing what this sex thing was all about. I started talking to my friend who was a little more experienced than me with this kind of thing. We texted, sent pictures back and forth and one day, today actually, I picked him up and took  him home to my house.

We made cookies, talked, and eventually made our way upstairs. We cuddled and started to get a little more hot and heavy. First we fingered, kissed, and generally had some fun. He led me along, told me what felt good and what to do. He was gentle and eventually, he asked if I was ready.

I really had no idea, having no experience, so I said yes. At first, it didn’t work well. I was still too tight, so I went down on him and then we tried again. This time, he pressed and pressed, and eventually it stopped hurting. A little while after, he said I was bleeding. I wiped myself up and then we kept going. We got back into it and tried a few different positions, generally just having fun and exploring what felt good. Eventually, he came and took the condom off (use a condom, kids) and we just cuddled.

He hung out for a little while and then went home. I’m writing now and I don’t feel bad at all. Maybe I should, but in the end, it really was not a big deal to me. I don’t feel much different, I don’t feel like there’s this big change in my life. I don’t even think I’ll act any differently around guys, to tell the truth. I am who I am, and I’ve known my identity for a long time now. I had fun, I learned a few things (I’m good at going down apparently) and I think I feel more confident that I know what to do in bed.

Find what works for you, don’t stress too much, and just go with the flow. Grand plans fall through, so sometimes you just gotta go with it. I wasn’t in a relationship, and I don’t want one with the guy I was with. This may not work for everyone, but it worked for me, and I don’t feel an ounce of regret. I’m just me.

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A couple of days ago, The A.V. Club posted an article on songs that reference sexual first times. I’m one of those embarrassing humans that’s terrible at deciphering/actually listening to lyrics (famously ruining every sing-a-long ever), so a few of these were surprises for me. Most notably Vanessa Carlton’s “White Houses,” which I so very often screamed along to during lonely car rides.

Any thoughts on songs they missed? For starters, “December, 1963 (Oh What A Night)” by  Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons.

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A YouTube video that’s currently going viral features an interesting take on the aging process and a ton of virginity references. The first shot of the video titled, “Life through Google’s eyes,” shows us what Google generates as suggestions to finish the search phrase, “I’m 10 and…” with the age in the search term increasing until 85.

The suggestion, “still a virgin,” pops up with almost every age. As the video description so aptly put it: “This reflects the fears, inquiries, preoccupations, obsessions and fixations of the human being at a certain age and our evolution through life,” with virginity of course being one of the top concerns from start to finish.

The project was completed using the ”incognito tab” where there would be no user search history. If you try it out yourselves, you might get different results. What does your Google aging process look like? Personally, I’d really like to see a Time Lord or vampire try it out.

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Our favorite UK virginity geek Kate Monro has a great book out: “Losing It: How we popped our cherry over the last 80 years.” Based on her blog The Virginity Project, Kate has put together an astonishing collection of stories, from Edna, who lost her virginity in 1940 aged 25, to Charlie, a young, disabled punk rocker whose first-time experience many would envy. Kate has long been an inspiration for what we do here, and we’re really excited about her project. Aside from the great stories, we LOVE the cover!! Shades of Joy of Sex, but without the beards and armpit hair (not that there’s anything wrong with that, except to my 13-year-old-self, who was presumably not in the 70s-era target audience.)

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In a community where unmarried men and women don’t touch, and are allowed no access to the internet or even non-religious texts, a long-overdue sex manual for ultra-Orthodox Jews has just been published. We’re talking basics, like starting with how men’s and women’s bodies differ in shape. I really hope “The Newlywed’s Guide to Physical Intimacy” will be welcome in this community, because sex and pleasure within marriage is something that is encouraged and celebrated. What I find most-fascinating is the lengths the authors, Dr. David Ribner and Jennie Rosenfeld, have gone to in order to make the process of accessing the information comfortable. From a BBC/PRI article about the book, which also has an audio segment:

In Israel’s Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox community, there are manuals written for brides and grooms to be, to help guide them on the subject of intimacy in married life, but they employ allegorical, vague terminology and no explicit how-to instructions on matters of sexual intercourse. So Ribner’s book enters uncharted territory. Flip through it though, and you see no illustrations. Instead there is a sealed envelope on the back flap, with a warning to readers that it contains sexual diagrams. If you don’t want to look at them, you can rip off the envelope and throw it away.

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Does anyone know if there are sex manuals for newly-married and devout Muslims? Women’s ENews just published an excerpt from Shereen El Feki’s new book ”Sex and the Citadel: Intimate Life in a Changing Arab World.“ Writing about the significance of female virginity, she says:

The Quran makes no mention of the hymen (ghisha’ al-bakara in Arabic) per se, but it does talk at length about private parts and the importance of protecting them from view. While virginity is, in principle, gender-neutral in the Quran, female virgins get special billing, the Virgin Mary coming in for particular praise. Then there are the hur, the perpetual virgins of paradise, “maidens restraining their glances, untouched beforehand by man or jinn,” whom Muslim men will marry as a reward for a righteous, God-fearing life, so the faithful believe. According to hadith, the Prophet is said to have joked with a newly married companion that he might have had more fun with a virgin than the “mature woman” he took as his wife.

We think the American edition’s cover is pretty brilliant. Read the full excerpt here.

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Yahoo is launching a new show called “Losing Your Virginity with John Stamos“ which features Stamos interviewing celebrities about their first sexual experiences. Puppets, Barbies and animation will be involved. We’re cautiously optimistic about this, but who knows? It doesn’t look like the show will involve anyone actually losing their virginity to John Stamos, which is somewhat disappointing considering he’s still pretty damn hot.

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The new star-laden movie “The Big Wedding” stars Topher Grace playing a 29-year-old virgin, a fact disclosed by a tipsy Diane Keaton on the Ellen show. She followed that by saying she doesn’t think there are actually any 29-year-old virgins. Uh, well, maybe not in Hollywood. The trailer is here but FYI, it got 6% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

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Tell us about yourself:

I am a Mexican 20-year-old girl. And to my dismay, a virgin still.

How do you define virginity?

I know I might sound very narrow-minded, but for me sex has to involve intercourse. I recognize homosexual sex is also sex, but when people say someone had “sex with himself/herself” it just sounds odd to me. Can you really have sex and not share it with someone else? I think not. A virgin is someone who has not had that interaction with another person.

Tell us your story

I met the guy I’m in love with when I was 14 years old. We stayed best friends for about three years, but then I had to move. We didn’t plan to keep in touch or anything, but we did, and I fell in love with him even more. I have had my fair share of boyfriends, and I have loved them, but he is always in the back of my mind. Finally last year we confessed to each other how we really feel but decided we were not going to date until we could be together. I don’t feel strong enough to have a long distance relationship. We meet every few months, and have done everything there is except actual intercourse. I have been dating other men, and he has dated other women, but we have both remained virgins, and while we have not said so, I am sure we are waiting for each other.

I wouldn’t care if he were not virgin, as we never made any promises, but I do want to wait for him because I know he cares about my feelings and I trust him more than anyone else. My whole family is Catholic and so am I, but they are very open and supportive and my parents encourage me to have sex whenever I feel ready to do it as long as it is with someone that loves me and respects me. He, on the other hand is atheist, but has no support from his family at all. I am more than ready now, I know so, and I have found lots of chances (I think I am fairly good looking and popular with boys), but it all comes down to the right person.

I will visit this man in a couple months. I have been dropping clues to see if he is into it, but he is shy and even though I know he understands what I mean, he keeps avoiding it. I don’t want to push him or force him, but I am worried it is politeness and culture that’s holding him back and not his actual feelings. In our country sex is still very stigmatized, and some information is very limited, so I am sure that he has lots of doubts and doesn’t really know how everything works, but I don’t want fear to ruin what we could have together. Also, he might be worried things will get awkward after that and it could ruin the beautiful friendship we have. Either way, I feel I am ready and can’t wait any longer, so I hope it happens soon, and with a man that cares.

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m female and 16, from Pennsylvania.

How do you define virginity?

Never having had Penis-In-Vagina sex.

Tell us your story

Technically, I’m a virgin. I go to a small private school, where options for boyfriends are limited, so most people are very inexperienced. I was 15 when I gave my first blowjob, to a guy who I’d been casually making out with on-and-off for a few months. My friends didn’t like him, because they thought he was using me. One even told me she wouldn’t speak to me if I hooked up with him, so I had to keep it a secret. He’d been asking for a blowjob for a while, so when my parents were out of town, I invited him over and gave him one. I actually felt really happy about it afterwards; I felt completely comfortable and ready.

I gave him another one a week later, but he started talking to me less and less, and I became disinterested. He periodically would ask me to hook up again, but I felt like I should wait until I was in a relationship for the next guy. He got angry and told everyone what we did. Some of my “friends” called me a whore, but I don’t regret it. If they were truly my friends, my sexual experiences wouldn’t have mattered.

The next encounter I had was a few months later on New Years Eve. I went to an Under 21 club with a few friends, where I met a college freshman. We ended up making out, and it got pretty heavy. One friend of mine from out of school, who was not a virgin, decided to invite him and his friend to stay the night at her house. I ended up alone with him in a bed. I felt like I had to give him a blowjob, because he was a college guy, and if I didn’t, I’d be a tease. He asked for sex, too, but I said no. Even though I was doing it out of perceived pressure, I don’t regret it, because I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. I gave him my number and he wanted to see me again, but I had no interest. He actually ended up dating another one of my friends for a little while. But after that encounter, I tried to wait again. I didn’t even kiss a guy until a party 10 months later, and then I had oral again a year later, with my now-boyfriend.

I have been with my boyfriend for a month now. He’s new to my school, and not a virgin. He pressured me at first, but now he says he understands that I want to wait. It probably doesn’t make much sense, since I give him head all the time, and he’s gone down on me. I don’t know why that stuff seems so casual to me, while losing my virginity seems like a huge deal. I just want to be sure that he’s the right guy. I’ve never been in a real relationship before. I always thought that guys who wanted relationships were just the ones that couldn’t get sex outside of a relationship, so when someone actually likes me, I assume there’s something wrong with them. But I’m starting to trust him. I trust him more than I trust myself, actually.

Commitment kind of freaks me out, and I’m worried that losing my virginity to him makes me more attached to him. Like I can’t escape a relationship if I have sex, because if you have sex, then it better be with someone you’re with long-term. But at the same time, I feel that I’m ready, and I want to. I am only waiting because society tells me I’ll regret it if I don’t.

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Remember that V-Card-survey we asked you to fill out last week? Well, just just spent a very intense chocolate-covered-espresso-bean-fueled weekend building a prototype based on your answers. It’s Phase 2 of our V-Card Diaries project, which mixes interactive storytelling, cool charts, and some subversion of the virginity construct. Check out the V-Card Experience Engine prototype here!

Keep in mind, it’s just a prototype right now, so only some parts work, and others are there to show you what it looks like as you fill it out. If you haven’t done our survey to anonymously add your experiences to our database, do it now! You can enjoy the first part of V-Card Diaries, your essays on sexual debuts and deferrals, live on our website anytime.

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We love the new Make Sex Normal Tumblr. That is all.

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It’s Heather Corinna’s birthday and the wonderful founder of Scarleteen has one birthday wish: please tell the sexual truth.

“One of the very biggest problems we have in most of our cultures and communities around sex and sexuality is silence, secrecy, and talk about sex that very often either isn’t truthful, or is, but isn’t the whole truth. We, as people, tend to often feel so scared and shameful and nervous about sex that we posture. We embellish. We make things sound better or worse than they are. We pretend we know more than we do, or have experienced less or more than we have [...] So this year, as a birthday gift from you to me, and even more so, as a gift to yourself, I’m asking you to tell just one (but more if you like, of course!) truth about sex or sexuality with someone safe for you, today or sometime very soon.”

You can (and must) read the rest of her essay/birthday wish here.

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This made our day: When the notorious abstinence lecturer/public shamer Pam Stenzel showed up to give one of her usual shaming and inaccurate high school speeches, she wasn’t expecting to come up against student Katelyn Campbell (above). Not only did Katelyn refuse to attend the assembly, she filed a complaint with the ACLU, calling Stenzel’s presentation ‘slut shaming.” But here’s Think Progress reports happened after that:

But it didn’t end with a simple difference of opinion among Campbell and her principal. The high school senior alleges that Aulenbacher threatened to call Wellesley College, where Campbell has been accepted to study in the fall, after she spoke to the press about her objections to the assembly. According to Campbell, her principal said, “How would you feel if I called your college and told them what bad character you have and what a backstabber you are?” Campbell alleges that Aulenbacher continued to berate her in his office, eventually driving her to tears. “He threatened me and my future in order to put forth his own personal agenda and make teachers and students feel they cant speak up because of fear of retaliation,” she said of the incident. Despite being threatened, Campbell is not backing down.

Katelyn Campbell, you are our hero. And, via Twitter, Wellesley College has confirmed that Campbell doesn’t need to worry about her spot next year!

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All that feel-good gets pushed away by this show on Lifetime called Preachers’ Daughters which asks the question: How will three Christian families headed by pastors keep their teen daughters from having sex? Andy Kopsa writes in the Atlantic about what happens when families fixate on purity:

The things each of these families is dealing with aren’t unique. Raising teenagers can be a nightmare (Aside from having been a teen girl myself once, I have a 23-year-old daughter so, yes, I get it.) The way these young girls are affected by the expectations of their parents and the rigidity of their religion may seem unusual but in some Christian households it appears to be quite common. They are not an anomaly that reality TV discovered and seized onto but an accurate portrayal of a prevalent Evangelical belief system.

Many of the comments, which attack the story as they quote scripture are depressing. But we did notice one from our pal @BelleVierge

Also, the way those girls are styled above, the show should be called Preachers’ Virgin/Whore Dichotomies. Thanks for the link: @Catcall Chronicle and @northstarmoll

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m a 21-year-old female college student in Illinois, USA

How do you define virginity?  

The state of never having had sex. I like the Scarleteen definition of sex, which is basically “being sexual.” I also like the concept of there being multiple virginities, each for a different act. But I have a hard time applying these broad definitions to myself.

Tell us your story

I was in a long-distance relationship and the first time he came to visit me, he got a hotel room. We’d hang out there every evening and then I’d have to drive home by myself. It was my first time doing anything physical with someone, and it was a great environment to take things slowly and explore together. We went a little farther every night, but never got past making out in our underwear. We’d discussed having sex before, but I knew as soon as I entered the room and saw the bed and he started kissing my neck, that it wasn’t something I was ready for yet.

Eventually, over visits, we got to giving each other orgasms through oral and stuff. But we never figured out how to have PIV sex. My theory is that we were just never relaxed enough; he was nervous and I felt a lot of pressure because I knew we would only be together for a few weeks at a time.

One day he told me that he considered what we did “making love” even if we weren’t “having sex.” Other times, he’d refer to what we were doing as “sex” which was a comfort to me. I think of myself as pretty open-minded, but I was pretty concerned about what we were and weren’t doing.

Now that we broke up without ever having PIV sex, I have to decide if I consider myself a virgin any more. But I know that when I think about “first times,” I remember things like putting his hand under my shirt in his hotel room.

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We’re collecting data to build another cool interactive project for our documentary “How to Lose Your Virginity” through POV’s Hackathon 3. Please help us get the ball rolling by answering and submitting this survey by Friday morning. (Warning, the text may not be suitable for work, no surprise)

Your responses are totally anonymous.

Click on this link to go to the survey

We’ll be posting survey results in the next few weeks. If you want to see another interactive project we made for V-Card Diaries through POV Hackathon 2 just click here.

Thank you (and please share with your friends…)

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How do you define virginity?

For me, personally, to define virginity I’d have to define sex. I consider handjobs and oral and anal play to be different types of sex, as well as p-i-v. So I would define virginity as never having consensually engaged in any of these activities with another person. I’d also define virginity as not having confidence in one’s worth as a sexual being. By these definitions, I’m a virgin.

Tell us your story

Actually, my biggest shame about being a virgin is that I have no stories—no tantalizing tales about one-night stands, no long romantic love affairs, no drama with friends with benefits, no personal narrative about discovering my sexuality with other people. These are all experiences I’d like to have. As a writer, having experiences that I can turn into stories is very important to me, and I feel inadequate having never undergone something so central to the human experience. I also feel inadequate as a feminist—I feel that by never having had sex, I’m unwillingly complicit in upholding certain oppressive, sexist, heteronormative views of women’s sexuality, like the virgin-whore complex. At the same time, however, as a feminist, I feel like I’m supposed to be above the concept of “virginity.” But because society places such importance on sexual experience or lack thereof, I feel forced into the identity of “virgin.”

I was raised in a conservative religious environment and believed in saving sex for marriage, but I started questioning my upbringing when I went to college. There I learned about other worldviews that I felt defined me better than my former religion. I also had my first and so-far only boyfriend in college. As I drifted away from religion, my boyfriend became more involved in religious groups. We broke up never having had sex. Around this time I became friends with a diverse group of people who shared many of my new-found interests such as feminism, activism, and writing. They were very sexually experienced, and after listening to their stories, I began to feel that I was somehow lacking because I’m a virgin. For a while I assumed that sex would “just happen” for me, but the guys that I was interested in having sex with didn’t reciprocate my feelings.

Now I’m dealing with the challenges that go along with graduating and a host of other personal issues, like some unexpected health problems, which have made looking for a partner a lower priority. I have no romantic ideals about my first time—I just want to get it over with. But I’m afraid I’ll be rejected because of my inexperience. I’m also afraid that if I find a partner I love, I won’t be able to please him sexually because of my lack of experience. For now, I’m trying to build my self-esteem back up, and maybe then I’ll finally be ready to shed my virginity. I just hope by then it won’t be too late!

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I’m a 16-year-old virgin and I was fingered by my boyfriend today. This wasn’t our first time but this time my cherry popped. Am I still considered a virgin? Because his dick didn’t penetrate me. Does this mean I’m partially a virgin? I’m kinda confused about this :s  – Anonymous

Hi Anonymous – Thanks for writing!

It’s not surprising that you’re confused since there is no one definition of virginity. So we should first talk about what you think you did to maybe no longer be a virgin.

The first question is what do you mean by ‘my cherry popped.’ Does that mean you bled? If so, you should know that bleeding has no direct connection to whether or not you’re a virgin. The bleeding can happen the first time something is inside your vagina, or the 50th. See what I mean about definitions being vague?

The real question is, why is it so important to know one way or another? Do you feel like someone will judge you for your virginity status? That’s kind of bullshit on their part, so it really comes down to how you feel. Do you want to be a virgin? Then be one. Do you want to not be a virgin? Then don’t. The important thing is that you’re doing what you want with your body, you enjoy it, you’re doing it safely, and you’re able to communicate with your boyfriend about it.

Sorry I don’t have a yes or no answer, but really, there isn’t one. So don’t worry about being confused. Make up your own rules and have fun.

Have questions? Want to weigh in? Leave us a comment!

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Here’s a gem of commentary on the Steubenville rape verdict: an incredibly prescient 2011 Onion SportsDome video called “Athlete Overcomes Rape.” [Click on that link because it's not emedable.] That’s the one he committed, not one he survived. This satire at its finest from America’s Finest News Source is not to be confused with actual mainstream news coverage. Let us also recommend this great piece from Henry Rollins. Why lead with this? Because purity culture=rape culture, a climate in which women are judged and controlled based on their sexual lives. Where rapists rate more concern than rape victims, where bystanders don’t recognize a rape when they see one, and where women are clearly asking for it by simply being drunk and female.

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Guys are bidding over a hundred thousand dollars (and counting) on the virginity of Valentina. Who happens to be a Real Doll. You could be the lucky dude to fork over years of salary to be able to say you were the first to put your penis into the ”state-of-the-art skin” of her lifelike vagina. The deal includes a sumptuous hotel stay, dinner and bubble with your waterproof silicone queen.

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An upcoming episode of “New Girl” will be “a flashback episode that details how the main characters lose their virginity. While offering few specifics, creator and executive producer Liz Meriwether, who wrote the episode, said cryptically that Max Greenfield’s Schmidt, playing the scene as his overweight younger self, would be seen “in that dorm room moving through space a little bit. He gets very overzealous with some lube.” No word on whether  the stories will hew to heteronormative, gendernormative deptictions of first-time sex, because a girl can always dream, can’t she?

~~~

The latest Bachelor contestant Sean Lowe is a virgin. No, wait, he’s a ‘born-again’ virgin. Wait, that’s just religious-speak for ‘celibate.’ So that means he used to have sex but at the moment he’s not. And the ladies didn’t know! Oh, wait. Maybe they did. Actually, they’re having bible study every morning! And now he and his suddenly celibate future bride are going to wait together. Whew. Glad that’s all cleared up.

~~~

A few ideas on how to liberate Indian women, according to this satirical piece from India: chastity belts, virginity soap, and fairness baby oil. Then you can save the men who can’t save themselves, unless you’re offering your enthusiastic consent, in which case don’t forget tightening virginity soap and some fairness baby oil to lighten up your skin.

~~~

The New York Times reports on “Love Hunters” in China, a new breed of matchmaker for the mostly-male ultra-rich: “In Joy City, Ms. Yang gave instructions to her eight-scout team, one of six squads the company was deploying in three cities for one Shanghai millionaire. This client had provided a list of requirements for his future wife, including her age (22 to 26), skin color (“white as porcelain”) and sexual history (yes, a virgin).”

As for wealthy women looking for love: “She had just spent an hour with a rich Chinese businesswoman in her late 30s. The woman proposed spending $100,000 on a campaign to find a husband who matched her status. “I had to tell her we couldn’t take her case,” Ms. Yang said. “No wealthy Chinese man would ever marry her. They always want somebody younger, with less power.” “

~~~

A 30-something calling herself “Pre-Cat Lady” writes Em & Lo desperately seeking advice on how to talk about/cast off her virginity with potential partners. Em & Lo remind PCL, “It’s not the virginity that’s holding you back-you’re holding you back.” And here’s some questionable Q&A advice from ‘a doctor’ on virginity loss, anal sex and STDs.

Thanks to virginspotters @j_a_allan, @funkybrownchick and @paulfreeland. Want to be a virginspotter, too? Send your links here.

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Thoughts? Via Adios Barbie and Guerrilla Feminism

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By Judy Park

I have never really read much young-adult fiction, particularly paranormal YA fiction about werewolves, vampires, and the like. I didn’t even finish the Harry Potter series until a few months ago (and of course it changed my life forever). I was 21. I do admit I had a quick Twilight phase before I broke it off few hundred pages in, only because I was so embarrassed and eventually, bored. I was reading it for the cheap thrills, the suspension of reality, and the momentary feeling of being that young teen girl swooning over a handsome, magical being. So it surprises me just how much this genre has exploded in recent years. I mean, I was a part of this demographic a few years ago, and I don’t recognize half the titles of the best-selling YA books that seem to be ubiquitous now.

The Spring 2013 issue of Bitch Magazine is the Pulp issue (think ~mystery~thriller~supernatural~). One of the articles, “Paranormal Boyfriends, Purity Myths, and Practical Virgins: the literature of losing it,” tackles the popularity of this genre and its repercussions, outlining the various ways in which young-adult novels approach, problematize, or encourage romantic and sexual relationships. Other than offering titillating sex scenes for the readers, often these books are the first and only sources of information about sex and relationships teens have during their formative years.

The writers look at two categories of books written for teen girls: The more popular paranormal subgenre, i.e. Twilight; and the more “realistic” but not as wildly popular titles, i.e. Anatomy of a Boyfriend.

The paranormal novels tend to equate virginity with “moral superiority,” having the female protagonists wait for their sexual saviors who will fulfill and love them completely, and they will live happily ever after. We’ve all heard this before, and a prime example the authors note is Bella and Edward in the Twilight series. Though tempted, Bella abstains from sex until she weds Edward, at which point they get their freak on. But as the authors make clear,

“being abstinent in these books is not empowering for female characters; instead, it’s a consequence of decisions enforced by their male counterparts.”

It feeds on the age-old storyline that those who wait will have the greatest prize in the end [and those who do make their rounds...well, they're sluts who don't need a story written about them.]

The more “realistic” YA novels address the complexities of relationships and sexuality, sending more sex-positive messages about experimenting without putting virginity (and sex) on a pedestal. In the book Anatomy of a Boyfriend, the main character Dominique seems to have more agency: Her relationship with Wes isn’t perfect, but she works through it, makes mistakes along the way, and ultimately ends it. [It's important to keep in mind that though the YA "realistic" subgenre attempts to make sex and romance more, well, realistic, they stick to straight relationships and exclude a good chunk of the population.]

In reviewing the novel Lost It, the authors point out a distinguishing lesson of more realistic YA romantic fiction:

“Having sex doesn’t fundamentally change who you are. Sex doesn’t have to mean forever, and characters learn how to move on when teen relationships don’t work out.”

When I was reading that first Twilight book, I had a better sense of who I was than I did at age thirteen, so I understood that Bella’s dependence on Edward was overrated and annoying; the idea that the book could have shaped my preteen values and outlook is downright frightening. I shudder to think that the relationships and sexual encounters presented in these books serve as guides for the millions of girls who continue to absorb them.

Most Bitch articles aren’t online, so if you want to read the whole article, you’ll have to buy the Pulp issue (totally worth it). Or better yet, subscribe and support this great magazine. Read the blog as well.

Judy Park is an intern at Trixie Films while she takes a short break from Brown University.

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m a 24-year-old female living in Vermont.

How do you define virginity?

It lost a lot of its import when I came out as gay (you might call me lesbian. I don’t call me lesbian). A lot of people wondered how I could even “lose my virginity” without a penis involved (answer? Have sex). But for me, losing my virginity, like coming out, opened door after door in front of me, and I guess I realized that I hadn’t *lost* anything–I’d found this wonderful new thing that I loved to do.

Tell us your story

Ah, my first time. What a peculiarly uncomplicated episode it was… I had just come out, at the age of 19, and I was having a heck of a time inserting myself in the gay community at my college. My solution was to get smashed and take someone home with me (well, really, make them take me home). The sex was…eh. Average? I learned that fingernails are not a sexy thing for me.

I guess what I liked about it is that it *wasn’t* a big deal. I didn’t want to be nervous and scared (of course, I still was) and I didn’t want to have to worry about whether I’d still be able to face my girlfriend after we had sex. For me, sleeping with a relative stranger (safely and with consent) was the best way I could have imagined having sex the first time. Sad as it may sound if you pictured wedding bells or rose petals and candles for your first time, for me, it was something to get over and move on from. And I’m happy to report that I now get healthy doses of fingernail-free lovin’ and I am doing just fine.

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Tell us about yourself:

23, Female, SF Bay Area

How do you define virginity?

No carnal knowledge, not even close.

Tell us your story

I was a painfully shy child, with fringe interests and body issues. Growing up, I decided to wait to have sex. Not for any sort of religious or “moral” reason (I have very open-minded amazing parents who’ve always encouraged me to find my own path). I don’t have unreasonable expectations. I resolved to wait for the day when I finally felt like a sexy young woman, with a man who was as attracted to me as I was to him. I skipped out on college to pursue a passion for film, and have been living with my parents in an isolated suburban neighborhood up until very recently when I relocated to The Bay Area. Now I’m finally starting to feel like a sexy young woman, but I’m still just as socially awkward as I was when I was a child. I’m a 23 year old virgin and it makes me feel like a circus freak every single day. I’ve only been kissed once and I’m pretty sure it was either an accident or out of pity. I’ve never gone any further than that. So if the opportunity EVER does arrive… I’m pretty sure I won’t even tell the guy that finally sticks it to me that I’m still a virgin, on the off chance that it scares him away. At this point I am so damn tired of waiting that I can’t afford to take that risk.

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Photo by Michael Weintrob

This past weekend, I saw Miranda Huba’s one-woman play Candy Tastes Nice in which she plays a young woman who decides to auction off her virginity to pay her crushing student loans. While the play begins fairly grounded in the ripped-from-the-headlines story of Natalie Dylan, it soon spins off into fantastical directions that involve the United Nations, a trio of sex-worker handmaidens and a shady guy in a van who gives out virginity certificates. I’ve been thinking about the virginity construct from a documentary perspective for a long time, so it was fun to see a totally different expression of it. I talked to Miranda, a fellow Canadian, after the show:

Can you give a quick description about the show and what you’re responding to culturally?

Candy Tastes Nice is the story of a young woman who decides to auction off her virginity to pay off her student loans. It is a response not only to cultural and historical obsessions with virginity, but to the hyper-sexualization of the female body in media and popular culture.

Do you have a working definition of virginity? And does that inform how she finally ‘loses’ it in the play?

Well, for me a virgin is someone who hasn’t had sex, and for me sex can be either oral or intercourse. In the play, however, I am working with a more acknowledged/traditional definition of sex ie. penetration. Also, culturally the concept of a virgin (as it pertains to women) means more than just sex, it’s about being a ‘good girl,’ maintaining youthfulness, and all those other things women are ‘supposed’ to be or do. In the play the woman must provide some sort of ‘proof’ that she is a virgin (blood on the sheets etc.). Of course, men never have to prove their virginity, only women. The play examines the many myths and rituals to do with virginity, and just how ridiculous it all is when we really look at it.

One of the themes running through the show is that because she remains a virgin, her body ages more quickly. That’s a different take from the ‘perpetual girlhood’ fetish of virginity. Can you talk a bit about that?

The idea in the play is that she is being kept a virgin because people are making a lot of money off of her remaining a virgin. This oppression manifests itself in the aging of the body. The concept being that the extreme effort in takes to stay pure and untainted actually has an adverse effect on the body. The pressure of having to fit into someone’s idea of the pure takes a toll physically and emotionally.

Because I grew up in Canada, I sometimes feel like I can look at the US from a bit of an outsider perspective. Do you feel that way, and if so, how does that play out for you?

I do feel that way sometimes. I used to think the US and Canada were very similar, but after living here for a while you realize the extreme cultural, social and political differences. I think it’s fantastic for my writing. I see things through a slightly different lens, which gives a unique perspective.

There have been no Canadian virginity auctioneers–that I know of. Is that because university education is subsidized by the government?

Not only education, but healthcare as well. In my experience growing up as a teenager in a rural community in British Columbia the sex education at the only public high school for miles was actually very good. There was even a condom machine in the bathroom (although they should have been giving them away). Also since it’s part of the culture that health care is a right I feel like young people are more likely to seek medical advice regarding sexual health. In America there is definitely a more vocal culture that supports a preoccupation with virginity. There is abstinence only education in many states, purity balls, pageant culture and a much bigger reality TV market. These events/policies create a fetishization with virginity rather than healthy ideas about sexuality.

Do you have a personal virginity story you want to share? 

I lost my virginity when I was 19. It was pretty uneventful. He was my college boyfriend. I remember being kind of annoyed because he didn’t stay over. He has to get his family’s car back home. A totally sweet guy though!

Show Info: Candy Tastes Nice runs in New York to March 23rd, 2013 on Tuesdays and Saturdays at 8pm in the upstairs lounge at Madame X on 94 Houston Street. Tickets available at http://candytastesnicenyc.brownpapertickets.com

We just wrote about the legalities of virginity auctions here. You can read all of our virginity auction coverage here.

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Dear Trixie – Another one of those older virgins approaching the age of 30 here. I guess my story is a fairly standard one of being a socially awkward male plagued by the lack of self-confidence, let alone the lack of success with the ladies. But I’d like to hope that I have a slightly more unique angle to the question I’m hoping an answer for.

For me, it’s quite obvious that my lack of success is down to my own short-comings. I refuse to complain about “friendzones”. Having friends is a good thing after all. But I do fear the lack of success – that is, no woman will want to have me as her partner. Neither do I really buy this “Nice guys finish last” argument fully. Clearly, the guys that are committed or married etc. are genuinely benign individuals, who appear to have none of the problems that I’ve got. So, I don’t think selling out on the more benign parts of my psychology is the exclusive salvation from involuntary celibacy.

My problem is simple, and rather clear actually. In order to attract a female partner, you have to give a woman a reason to choose you! In its crudest form, the basic exchange is that a perfect ten gets to have a high-earner male, because high social status on the male side and good looks on the female side do guarantee vital contributions to the gene pool and thus sustained survival of the human race. Survival of the fittest.

However, what do I do if I’m not sufficiently well-off? I do hope to make decent money in the future, as I’m learning a trade that hopefully allows me to do so, but what do I do before I’ve got my feet firmly on the financial ground? I’ve been told that if a guy is poor and he has got other disadvantages, then a woman could choose him still if HE has something to offer that no other guy has.

So quite clearly, I need to figure out what is it that could possibly give me an edge. That I might need to invent reasons to choose me. It’s a bit like in employment: in a job interview, you’re always asked: “Why should I hire you?”. I know, dating is not wholly analogous to job market, but still, if I was asked: “Why should a woman choose you as her mate”, I’d remain stunningly silent. How do I correct this problem? – Tim I.D.

Hi Tim – Thanks for writing.

I’m glad you’ve already dismissed the ‘friendzone‘ and ‘nice guys finish last‘ hypotheses by seeing them for what they are: Social constructs that don’t actually reflect real life.

I think you should add to the list the ‘high social status on the male side and good looks on the female side‘ argument, which has been roundly dismissed by people who aren’t sexist evolutionary psychologists. The assumption that hot women and rich men get the best partners and relationships also has little bearing on reality. In fact, it’s often quite the opposite because (for women) if all anyone likes you for is your hot body, what happens when you get older and new model comes along?

So why should someone date you? I don’t know you, but I’d imagine it would be because someone finds you attractive–something TOTALLY in the eye of the beholder, by the way–which could include having an appearance they like, being fun to be around, having some confidence, good hygiene, a sense of humor, not being a jerk, being easygoing and non-judgmental.

I’d also recommend having a very broad idea of what might be attractive to you. I’m not saying you’re this person, but a lot of the guys we hear from who aren’t meeting women in fact just aren’t meeting supermodels. Or they’re only looking for women 10-15 years younger on dating sites. So everyone needs to get over that.

Dating can really suck, no denying it. But like my friend Rosie’s mother used to say “There’s a shoe for every foot” which is true, but you do need to try on a lot of shoes to find the right one. Let us know how things go.

~Trixie

Have questions? Want to weigh in? Leave us a comment!

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A roundup of the latest virginity stories in the media:

Watching this short clip without any information or context, one can easily assume that these girls, in their big, colorful dresses, are letting loose after the school dance with their boys. I sure wouldn’t have guessed that these are purity ball attendees, having just vowed to remain holy and chaste until marriage. And check out the dad in the left corner. Is he embarrassed for the girls or does he simply not dig the Harlem Shake*?

[*Note: Which has nothing to do with the actual Harlem Shake, which you can see in this video and on Melissa Harris Perry's show]

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A nationalistic, 25-year-old Russian man was denied admission to the army, not because he has oddly shaped feet or a spindly, hairy tail that drags in his wake, but because he’s *gasp* a virgin. When he told the psychiatrist about his lack of experience:

“He sent me to a mental hospital! I am an absolutely healthy man, but he sent me there to prove that I was crazy. And all because of a girl?”

Just another case of male virginity = pathology.

~~~~

Bitch Magazine, in celebration of their new Pulp issue, is showcasing three obscure, old school books on their website for one week. “The Promiscuous Breed” from 1966 caught our eye for its portrayal of promiscuous women with funny, weird language of that time period. Bitch’s favorite paragraph from the book includes the lines:

“This volume deals with the very real problems of Sex Before Marriage, problems which beset your town, your community, your own home. It shows the reader in carefully researched case histories just how the death knell of chastity is being sounded in America and why.”

If you’re in Portland, check out Bitch Magazine’s Pulp Release Party, happening Wednesday, March 6th

~~~~

Also via Bitch: Once you are sexually active, do you need to go to the doctor so they can cut a piece of your vagina off? Is there a safe way to lighten or even out the tone on your vulva lips? Can you get pregnant by kissing during your period? These are some of the questions that tweens are asking as part of a campaign by U by Kotex (you know, the tween pads and tampons I still use), revealing the alarming dearth of information that teen girls have about their bodies and sexualities. It’s cool that there’s an anonymous, safe space in the cyber world for girls to ask questions that they are too afraid to ask in the real world, but wouldn’t it be even cooler if these topics could be discussed more openly and honestly with peers, parents, and teachers?

Thanks to virginspotter @j_a_allan for the Russian story! Want to be a virginspotter, too? Send your links here.

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m 42, female and in Detroit, MI. I work in IT for a living, and I’m a geek. I’ve been in a committed relationship with a lovely geek boy for 13 years.

How do you define virginity?

Virginity is such an odd concept. I guess when I was a virgin I defined it as never having had “below the belt” action involving a penis. Now I’m not sure how I define it. Sex, to me, is a much more complex thing than just penetration, and for those not having sex with men there may be no penis involved at all. I’m a little fuzzy on the whole thing to be honest.

Tell us your story

I was 19–four months shy of my 20th birthday–and I was tired of being a virgin. My college roommate was dating a “bad boy” (with a penchant for burglary), and his “bad boy” friend had expressed an interest in me, so we started hanging out. “T” was a good-looking guy who was my age, and I was a brainiac geeky goth girl who didn’t date much. I wasn’t used to getting that kind of attention, and it was nice.

Thankfully I had been raised in a household where my mother was very open with me, and she encouraged me to consider having sex before marriage when I was ready. She had been a virgin on her wedding day and had in some ways regretted her lack of experience. We weren’t an overly religious household, so there was not much talk of virginity in my house period.

My mother’s openness made sex less of a mystery for me. I felt much more confident in saying no because I didn’t feel ready, or it didn’t feel right, because I knew what would happen and how it worked. I had discovered masturbation around age 12 and I could get myself off, so I was in no rush. Of course, once I felt ready my dating pool had dried up, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to do it.

“T” and I were at his house one night after seeing each other for about a week, and I just decided I wanted to do it. He was hot, we’d bonded over various bands/books/films, The Cure was playing in the background, and our kissing had turned into something more. I was ready.

I blurted out to “T” that I was a virgin, and that I wanted to have sex with him, cause I’m awkward like that. He was a little shocked at first, but he giggled and said “OK”. He said he’d never had sex with a virgin before, but he would try to make it a really good experience. He had condoms, and I was on the pill, so we went for it.

We undressed one another in low light, kissed, touched, and we had sex. Real, honest-to-god sex, in missionary position. “T” checked in with me several times, asked if I was OK, or if we needed to stop. Truthfully it hurt a bit at first, then it started to feel OK, and when it finally started feeling good… he came… and it was… OK.

“T” made sure I finished and had a good time after he came, and then we just held one another until we fell asleep. The next morning I had to leave to get ready for work, and it was like it was the most normal thing in the world. We kissed, I headed off feeling a bit sore, but lovely otherwise.

When I thought about it later that day I thought “is that it?” For something that people spend so much time talking about it was… not that big a deal. I didn’t feel particularly different after losing my virginity. A bit sore, maybe, but otherwise nothing had changed.

A week later “T” ended up joining the Marine Corp instead of going to jail in a plea deal for breaking and entering. He shipped out almost immediately. It wasn’t much of a heartbreak, we had both been comfortable, but neither of us were “in love.” We only had sex the one time, but it was a nice experience and I look back on it fondly.

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From time to time we get letters with questions about virginity, sex, relationships, feminism or filmmaking, and we answer them here. You can Ask Trixie a question here.

How was auctioning virginity legal, and what was used to auction it? There’s many stories of women auctioning their virginity, through places like The Bunny Ranch, but what was the actual platform used to auction this off? Ebay? And how was this not illegal? I’m just really curious and can’t seem to find the answer anywhere. –Jaime

Hi Jaime! Thanks for writing.

On the most basic level, when a man or woman auctions off their virginity, he or she is offering sex in exchange for money. So in places where prostitution is legal, like Nevada (where The Bunny Ranch, a brothel, represented Natalie Dylan), they aren’t breaking any laws.

Now, we can get into a long discussion about what ‘auctioning virginity’ means, even what ‘virginity’ means, and why a guy would pay a lot of money to be the first person to put his penis into someone’s vagina, for example. But that’s another post. Sometimes women (and it’s almost always women) do this kind of transaction to make some money, sometimes they say it’s for college or to pay medical bills, but sometimes they are being exploited by others, and it’s not always clear what the truth is. One of the first auctions I ever heard of was Rosie Reid in the UK, and although it was totally consensual, she was apparently quite traumatized by it.

Some auctioners have started with posts on EBay or Craig’s List, but those get shut down pretty quickly, and the bidding takes place through a brothel, porn site or some other third party. That was the case with Natalie Dylan and The Bunny Ranch, which was also going to be where the sex would take place (that deal never actually happened, but many others have).

We have a lot of virginity auctions stories archived here if you want to learn more.

~Trixie

Have questions? Want to weigh in? Leave us a comment!

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Tell us about yourself:

I am a heterosexual 24-year-old female in Miami, Florida. I am an artist/designer and dancer.

How do you define virginity?

I have defined it traditionally. A person who has not had any sexual experience. But I’m excited to get my perspective totally flipped by this film.

Tell us your story

I was raised a Jehovah’s Witness. And as such premarital sex was forbidden. But ever since I was a young girl I had a feeling I was not going to be able to live up to these standards. I was always very sexually aroused as a child (making my barbie dolls have sex, drawing my own sex scenes, all before the age of 10) The first time I had “sex” was at age 14. It was with my 18-year-old boyfriend. He penetrated me but I don’t think he broke my hymen because I never bled I think because he wasn’t fully erect, but I still considered it losing my virginity.

It was a miserable experience. I had weighty feelings of guilt and regret. But I believe it was a blessing in disguise because after this experience I decided to leave the religion. And it was probably the best life decision I have ever made.

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m 23 and I come from Germany. I was always very ashamed to still be a “virgin” until I had sex the first time two month ago. It happened that I’ve suddenly been very glad that I had sex when I really wanted it and that I didn’t give in to what “the others” may expect.

How do you define virginity?

I don’t really know. I think it’s a term that describes a state that is before a person thinks he/she had sex. You also could ask: What is sex? I had satisfying sex with myself before I had sex with another person. And no matter if I have been a virgin or not, I am happy to have learned something about myself first.

Tell us your story

I had sex the first time with a man two month ago. And I enjoyed it. So I got on with it. I didn’t wait so long, because I waited for “the one” (actually the man I enjoy sex with is not even my boyfriend), but I was afraid, had great self-doubt about my body and put pressure on myself because I haven’t had sex yet. And I didn’t trust anyone.

Those feelings started when I was 14. Two years ago things started changing. I can’t tell the whole story, but the most important thing is that I feel much better today and I come to terms with myself more and more every day. Probably this is normal, you are never at terms with yourself in puberty. I met my “lover” at a party. We got along well and I had heartache because of another person and I didn’t wanna sleep alone. So I took him home with me.

No, it didn’t happen this night, I just slept in his arms and it felt so good. We kept in contact, we met again and I only got as far as I really wanted at the moment. So when I decided to have sex with him after three weeks, I really, really wanted it. It wasn’t planned and we had better sex since, but it felt and still feels right. And now it doesn’t matter that I have been a virgin for 23 years.

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Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
We hate the silencing, shaming heteronormative sexual culture at large,
But we love you!

Just for you, we’ve created a shiny and new way to share what you’ve done, haven’t done, or may be doing at this very minute. Try it!

Thanks to our contributors, we’ve collected over 140 of your First Person stories, but until now they’ve been kind of buried within the pages of the blog. No longer! Now you can see and read your stories in a very cool and beautiful interactive format. You can search for them by theme (I’m waiting until marriage, My first time was great, I missed my chance, just to name a few…) Or you can search by keyword (try ‘sex’ and see all hell break loose). You can also search by most recent posts.

This project was created thanks to POV Hackathon, a PBS event where we built the prototype over a crazy caffeine-fueled weekend this January. You can see our project (with a little video) as well as seven others, also offshoots of their documentary films.

It’s a beta prototype right now, so we want your feedback as we refine and add to it over the next months. You’ll still be able to find the latest First Persons on the blog as usual–as well as in the new format. Please help us spread the word. The more submissions, the better.

Huge thanks to our team: Associate Producer Ellice Litwak, Web Developers Steve Melendez and Vanessa Joho, and a special shout-out to POV’s Adnaan Wasey, the man who makes Hackathon happen.

PS: The site works best in Chrome

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Tell us about yourself:

I’m 22. I attend a small private liberal arts college in the Southern Appalachians where I study biology and psychology. I’ve been reading this blog for probably 4 years and it really helped me come to accept my sexuality and to break away from the abstinence-only viewpoint that I was raised in.

How do you define virginity?

Before having Penis-in-Vagina intercourse, I would have defined it as that but afterward I came to realize that it was more about trusting another person and letting them get intimate with me then about the “sex.” All of the other experiences were a much bigger deal at least to me.

Tell us your story

My lab partner asked me to watch Rocky Horror Picture Show with him. That night we stayed up until 4 a.m. and got to second base. Over the next month we hung out in his room and went further and further a little at a time. He made me feel safe and comfortable and was never pushy. He was understanding, which is good because I’m allergic to latex, polyurethane, and nitrile. I stayed over in his room, spent weekends together and finally got to the point. One Saturday, he asked and I said yes. The first time was, well, not great. It wasn’t necessarily bad but it was just sort of uncomfortable and weird. Nothing really prepared me for what that was going to feel like. I didn’t bleed, at least not the first time, and wasn’t really that sore afterward. It got better though, a lot better, over time. We didn’t last and the break up was far for mutual but I can’t really regret the experience.

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h/t Brenda Oelbaum (who made the summer of 1979 bearable)

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