It’s difficult to get people of varying genders to agree on a definition when there are even inconsistencies across generations: In 1999, the Kinsey Institute reported that only a slight majority of Americans over the age of 60 believed sex using a condom counted as sex.
That means, many Olds think you can go buck wild having hot “not sex” with whoever you want because the purpose of that activity isn’t procreation.
Also, interestingly, even activities that most people surveyed by the Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality called “not sex” considered acts of cheating if enjoyed with someone other than one’s partner.
71 percent of people surveyed called oral sex “sex,” and only 81 percent of people thought anal sex was “sex,” which means 19 percent of the survey respondents think all gay men are virgins.
In addition to not knowing how to catalog and define sexual experiences which don’t involve penises, our society hasn’t figured out why virginity is even a worthwhile topic of study.
It sucks to police the attempts of a marginalized group to define its own experience, but once orgasms are introduced into the virginity equation, things get even stickier.
In 2014, the Journal of Sexual Medicine reported that less than 63 percent of women experience orgasms with familiar partners.
The disconnect between our experience and what our peers go through still disturbs people my age, a decade later, because many of us want to feel that our behaviors, particularly sexual, fall into the norm.
So among Americans, when and how do most people lose their virginities?
One girl turned suddenly toward our group, clearly annoyed with our naiveté.
“Just don’t let him put it in your butt,” she practically spat.
hen I was in high school, my friends and I sat on the bleachers one afternoon, shyly discussing which boys in our graduating class we’d like to have sex with.