Join Holly as she searches east Auckland for love and connection.
In which Holly ponders virginity.
Sometimes, conversations about intimacy end up being all about numbers.
There’s the ubiquitous question about body count: “Holly, how many people have you slept with? What do you mean, three? No, not at once… in total?”
Then, there’s this one: “What age were you when you lost your virginity?”
Isn’t it strange, Reader, to use this language for something so personal – something that should be so intimate and intentional?
Instead, we speak in a flippant manner about “losing it” as if virginity were a set of keys, or a post-it note.
“Where is that blasted virginity? I had it a second ago!”
Shouldn’t we be able to talk about this in terms of giving, not losing – as a conscious gift we give to ourselves and another?
It’s only fair and realistic I acknowledge here the courage and worth of those whose first experience was non-consensual.
I won’t dwell on this but stand with survivors and hope they find the love and respect they deserved from the very start.
Most of us remember the age we were when we first shared ourselves with someone. Or do we?
The first time I had sex I was in my teens. I loved my partner as much as I could, at least, with my limited maturity at the time.
I don’t regret the experience, but it was far from perfect, having no idea what I was doing or how to enjoy myself.
It was simply teenage hormones and an underdeveloped sense of self for the win.
It was years before I learned to really share myself and had my first truly embodied sexual experience.
I see this as much more of a milestone than that rainy afternoon my teenage self was fumbling around in the backseat of a Holden.
It was almost a decade before my first real orgasm. And trust me, Reader, I kissed a few frogs to get to that happy ending. Sometimes three at a time.
All this considered, I’ve been watching TVNZ’s Virgin Island with morbid fascination.
I’m not a fan of reality television. In fact, being forced to watch Married at First Sight is my idea of cruel and unusual punishment.
I was curious, however, to see how the issue of virginity would be handled.
My verdict? I’m ambivalent. I worry there’s an inherent element of exploitation, and that the vulnerable participants, aged 22-30, might get swept up in the gimmick of being isolated en luxe.
After all, most sexual and personal awakenings happen in the real world, with all its stresses, messes, joys and challenges – not at some Mediterranean resort with cameras rolling.
Then again, I know the power of intimacy coaching done well. I also believe that in a world where many young people are learning bad or brutal habits from porn, we must embrace different solutions that give them a chance at real and respectful pleasure.
If there’s one thing I wish for younger generations, including the participants of Virgin Island, it’s for them to discover true pleasure, intentionally and in their own time.
Email holly@times.co.nz
Yours in love,
Holly
