If teens regret having sex, it's time to ditch the notion of The First Time

To suggest you are irreversibly altered just because you’ve encountered another person’s genitals reinforces sexist and damaging stereotypes

The National Survey of Sexual Attitudes and Lifestyles revealed this week that more than half (52 per cent) of young women and 44 per cent of young men were not ready to have sex when they lost their virginity. A smaller proportion agreed they had not had their first sexual encounter at the “right time”. But the people surveyed did not wish they’d had sex earlier; they regretted not having waited longer.

In some ways I too think it would be nice to omit the early fumbles, to strike them from the record and start counting from the point when I actually started enjoying myself. I never believed my first time would be monumental but, like many, I thought it would be more... significant. Still, I knew that it was but the first awkward step towards (I hoped) more exciting and fulfilling things.

I recognise not everyone has that experience. But while it is obviously troubling that so many young people feel bad about the timing of their first sexual encounter, haggling over what the “right” age is won’t help them. Here are some things that might:

First, let’s ditch the term “virginity”. To suggest you are irreversibly altered just because you’ve encountered another person’s genitals reinforces sexist and often damaging stereotypes. If we did away with the notion of The First Time as a life-changing event, maybe young people wouldn’t feel so pressured to do it, guilty for wanting to, or ashamed of having actually done it.

Second, we need to expand our definition of sex. Talking about sex and virginity as related to a first episode of heterosexual intercourse dismisses the huge numbers of young LGBT+ people. In doing so we not only suggest that queer teenagers’ sexual experience doesn’t matter; we imply that what they are doing isn’t really sex. This puts them in confusing positions when it comes to setting their boundaries and negotiating consent. The survey doesn’t cover how many LGBT+ people wish they’d waited longer, but widening our definition of what sex is would support them to make informed decisions about their own right time.

We also ignore the other kinds of sexual activity that young people often feel pressured to engage in. As Peggy Orenstein set out in her book Girls & Sex, teenage girls are increasingly expected to perform oral sex, in part because it “doesn’t count”. When we include these activities in our definition of first sex we allow young people to make their own decisions about what “counts” for them.

Next, we need to talk about pleasure, since almost 80 per cent of women can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone. By defining sex in such a narrow way, we send them the message that pleasure is not something they should expect from their first experience. No wonder so many look back and regret it.

Finally, it’s time to stop making girls the gatekeepers of sex. When we frame sex as something a man seeks permission for and to which a woman acquiesces, we lay the ground for pressure and coercion. Sex is a human social interaction like any other. It should be mutually pleasurable and desirable. Acknowledging this leads to better discussions of boundaries and the ability to recognise and give consent.

The right time to have sex is entirely down to the individual. By talking more broadly about sex and sexual pleasure we take the focus off The First Time and support young people in figuring out what they’re ready for and when is the right time for them.