Losing "IT"!
Making the choice to have sex for the first time is a decision which should be thought out carefully. Most first time sexual experiences can be awkward and not necessarily that great.
I remember my first sexual (I use the term very loosely) experience was because it was so bad. We were both 14 and I don't know what we were thinking. There were no seagulls or fireworks for us. Just twisted underwear, black sand, red faces and I never spoke to him again. It was truly awful, and in hindsight I would've waited until I was older.
The British Medical Journal published an interesting study of Scottish teenagers under the age of 15 who answered questions about their sexual behaviour. Fifteen per cent of the girls and eighteen per cent of boys had already had sex, however nearly half of the girls regretted doing it so young. Around one third of the boys felt their time wasn't right either, although only a very small group actually regretted going the whole way.
Do you think teenagers are having sex earlier? I doubt it. I don't think we change all that much with the generations. The good news from that study was sixty per cent of the teenagers used condoms. We'd never heard of condoms back then, except when the class clown brought one to school, filled it up with water and popped it over the class loser's head!
The authors of the Scottish study said young people should develop their relationship and negotiating skills so they don't rush in to having sex so young and harbour those regrets. Hear Hear!
How did you learn about sex? Are your parents those cool types who discuss it without references to insects?
My mother bought me this book called "Everything A Teenage Girl Should Know". It was one of those well-meaning Christian books complete with photos of young men in cream slacks and rust-and-white coloured body shirts holding hands with girls in rust-and-white coloured crocheted tops. The book left me with the impression that the best thing about sex was not to have it at all unless, of course, you were married to a cream-panted boy who always boiled himself before performing the sacred deed.
Obviously there were a few more things a teenage girl should know because Mum took me along to see a sex education film which was enjoying its first season down at the local church hall. This was a perfect opportunity for Mum to palm off the embarrassing chore of explaining 'those things' to me. The film was hosted by a florally-dressed woman with big glasses, who had probably devoted the better part of her life to studying the mating habits of sea anemones. The lights dimmed and the projector clattered on. What followed was a warts-n-all doco about childbirth, which could be compared with trying to squeeze a London bus through your front door. The film featured a lot of puffing and moaning with the doctor finally handing over this blue and red gasping thing to a worn out but nonetheless happy mother who still had her feet swinging from a set of stirrups.
The projector whirred to a stop and the lights were snapped on. Now, by Grade Six most of us had sort of figured that babies didn't appear in a knapsack riding on a stork's beak. We knew they popped out from somewhere near your belly button. But the thought of your "twinkle" being the main foyer involved some serious thought adjustment. Those tender moments with Baby Alive and any aspirations to motherhood were promptly put aside.
Shortly after the educational film, the floral lady invited questions from the somewhat mute audience. Off the top of my head I had at least forty questions but there was no way I was going to be the first one up on the dance floor. The rest of the audience apparently felt the same way. Undeterred, the host went on to explain really icky things like getting your monthly 'friend' and how to hook up a monstrous sanitary napkin to its elastic holder, which looked like a truss for a buffalo's hernia and could probably soak up the contents of Sydney Harbour.
The subject of wet dreams brought a few nervous giggles from the boys down the back. In fact, any allusion to a penis was enough to start the boys tittering. And some girls, I might add. Thankfully the lady wasn't one of the small-minded few that proclaimed "Caveat Masturbator". She gleefully quashed rumours of total blindness, hair growth on palms, the wrath of God, and becoming a turnip if you indulged.
So in hindsight, do I regret having sex so young? Yes...and no. Yes, because it could've been a lot better and No because I now know what is better....I think...!
But when YOU make the choice you will be better able to make up your own mind. And try to make sure you have sex for all the right reasons.
Kerryn Marlow is the editor of http://www.bodytalkmagazine.com
I remember my first sexual (I use the term very loosely) experience was because it was so bad. We were both 14 and I don't know what we were thinking. There were no seagulls or fireworks for us. Just twisted underwear, black sand, red faces and I never spoke to him again. It was truly awful, and in hindsight I would've waited until I was older.
The British Medical Journal published an interesting study of Scottish teenagers under the age of 15 who answered questions about their sexual behaviour. Fifteen per cent of the girls and eighteen per cent of boys had already had sex, however nearly half of the girls regretted doing it so young. Around one third of the boys felt their time wasn't right either, although only a very small group actually regretted going the whole way.
Do you think teenagers are having sex earlier? I doubt it. I don't think we change all that much with the generations. The good news from that study was sixty per cent of the teenagers used condoms. We'd never heard of condoms back then, except when the class clown brought one to school, filled it up with water and popped it over the class loser's head!
The authors of the Scottish study said young people should develop their relationship and negotiating skills so they don't rush in to having sex so young and harbour those regrets. Hear Hear!
How did you learn about sex? Are your parents those cool types who discuss it without references to insects?
My mother bought me this book called "Everything A Teenage Girl Should Know". It was one of those well-meaning Christian books complete with photos of young men in cream slacks and rust-and-white coloured body shirts holding hands with girls in rust-and-white coloured crocheted tops. The book left me with the impression that the best thing about sex was not to have it at all unless, of course, you were married to a cream-panted boy who always boiled himself before performing the sacred deed.
Obviously there were a few more things a teenage girl should know because Mum took me along to see a sex education film which was enjoying its first season down at the local church hall. This was a perfect opportunity for Mum to palm off the embarrassing chore of explaining 'those things' to me. The film was hosted by a florally-dressed woman with big glasses, who had probably devoted the better part of her life to studying the mating habits of sea anemones. The lights dimmed and the projector clattered on. What followed was a warts-n-all doco about childbirth, which could be compared with trying to squeeze a London bus through your front door. The film featured a lot of puffing and moaning with the doctor finally handing over this blue and red gasping thing to a worn out but nonetheless happy mother who still had her feet swinging from a set of stirrups.
The projector whirred to a stop and the lights were snapped on. Now, by Grade Six most of us had sort of figured that babies didn't appear in a knapsack riding on a stork's beak. We knew they popped out from somewhere near your belly button. But the thought of your "twinkle" being the main foyer involved some serious thought adjustment. Those tender moments with Baby Alive and any aspirations to motherhood were promptly put aside.
Shortly after the educational film, the floral lady invited questions from the somewhat mute audience. Off the top of my head I had at least forty questions but there was no way I was going to be the first one up on the dance floor. The rest of the audience apparently felt the same way. Undeterred, the host went on to explain really icky things like getting your monthly 'friend' and how to hook up a monstrous sanitary napkin to its elastic holder, which looked like a truss for a buffalo's hernia and could probably soak up the contents of Sydney Harbour.
The subject of wet dreams brought a few nervous giggles from the boys down the back. In fact, any allusion to a penis was enough to start the boys tittering. And some girls, I might add. Thankfully the lady wasn't one of the small-minded few that proclaimed "Caveat Masturbator". She gleefully quashed rumours of total blindness, hair growth on palms, the wrath of God, and becoming a turnip if you indulged.
So in hindsight, do I regret having sex so young? Yes...and no. Yes, because it could've been a lot better and No because I now know what is better....I think...!
But when YOU make the choice you will be better able to make up your own mind. And try to make sure you have sex for all the right reasons.
Kerryn Marlow is the editor of http://www.bodytalkmagazine.com
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