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Let's do this thing, Bay Area! We now need 24 more RSVPs by Monday to make this screening happen.

Thanks to you lovely people, we got 9 more ticket reservations in just one day. We only need 24 more by Monday, so let's make it happen!

Get your tickets by May 11 & help make this event happen! 
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Reserve your tickets today!
Watch our trailer!
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We need 33 more RSVPs to make this screening happen!

Join us on
May 18 in
San Francisco:
RSVP online
by May 11 

How To Lose Your Virginity is coming to the Bay Area for one entertaining, eye-opening, and thought-provoking screening. Join Director Therese Shechter and Producer Lisa Esselstein for a Q&A and some pre- and post-screening events.

Because this is a Tugg screening, we have to sell 33 more tickets in the next 6 days for the event to happen. Reserve your ticket today* and tell all your friends in the Bay Area to join us as well (use the handy social media links below). 

It's going to be a great night for parents, teens, and all our friends–and there's sure to be great conversation (there always is!).

See you there,
Therese & Lisa & Team Trixie Films

*Like Kickstarter, your card won't be charged unless the event happens.
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V-Card Diaries: Jayme "I had sex with the first boy I kissed. A Scottish guy in a kilt I met in Rome."

Today we're highlighting Jayme in the Bay Area in California, who lost her virginity in a 'pathetic but memorable' way while studying abroad in Rome. If you want to tell your story, go to our submission form. You can find all our V-Card Diaries here. A little about myself:

A 22-year-old female originally from rural New York who now lives out on the West Coast in the Bay Area.

How I define virginity:

Penetrative sex.

Here's my story:

I had sex with the first boy I kissed. I was a twenty-year-old studying abroad with absolutely zero sexual experience. I had never so much touched a boy with any intent, nonetheless gotten naked with one.

I never talked about sex; the idea of revealing my lack of experience made me debilitatingly self-conscious. Whenever friends volunteered information about their boyfriends/girlfriends/ sexual histories, I would do my best to keep the attention on them lest anyone want to ask me a question.

I met a Scottish guy in a cobbled plaza in Rome. He wasn't astoundingly beautiful or particularly suave, but he was wearing a kilt and didn't laugh too hard when I pretended to know more about European football than I really did. He was staying mere steps from where we met. I pulled him up against a wall and kissed him, shocked by how easy it was. I kept saying, "I'm leaving tomorrow," as if that meant anything (to me, it did).

We had to walk past a group of his friends in the common area of their suite to make it to the bedroom. I didn't have time to get nervous; we were naked too quickly. Most of what happened should embarrass me, but remarkably I think it's all pretty funny - he had been drinking all day for a "rugby team initiation," so he could hardly get it up; his friends kept screaming from the other room; my phone kept ringing, a friend looking for me.

He was scared of my breasts. It was best when he used his fingers. After fifteen minutes, someone right outside the door yelled something and we both jumped up and out of bed. I said I had to go. Neither of us finished.

It wasn't particularly special; looking back, it was actually pretty pathetic. But it was memorable, and I don't have any qualms about how it happened.