The Ambiguity of "Having Sex": The Subjective Experience of Virginity Loss in the United States.

The experience of virginity loss offers one vantage point from which to explore the ambiguity surrounding sex and the consequences of that ambiguity for personal identity. Societal concerns about sexuality often crystallize around virginity loss, both because it is widely perceived as one of the most significant turning points in sexual life and because of the emphasis public health and policy professionals place on first coitus and sexual initiation. In this paper, I concentrate on two subjective aspects of virginity loss. First, to what sexual experiences do women and men refer when they talk about virginity loss or the first time they had sex? Which events do they posit as producing the transition from virgin to nonvirgin identity and who do they see as eligible to make that transition? Second, how do people interpret virginity loss? How do the meanings that individuals attach to virgin and nonvirgin identity shape their expectations and choices about the transition between those identities?

In answering these questions, I address several short-comings of the literature on early sexual experiences. First, relatively little research has explored the subjective meanings of virginity loss (di Mauro, 1995). Although first experiences with vaginal intercourse--which researchers often identify as "virginity loss"--have been staples of research on sexual behavior since the 1960s, the preponderance of literature on early sexuality has focused on its public health dimensions (Ericksen, 1999; Sprecher, Barbee, & Schwartz, 1995). Second, most studies of virginity loss have focused primarily or exclusively on the experiences of young women and on people who identify themselves as heterosexual, despite a growing body of empirical and anecdotal evidence that beliefs and behavior vary meaningfully across and within gender and sexual orientation (this evidence includes Elder, 1996; Hart, 1995; Holland, Ramazanoglu, & Thomson, 1996; Rubin, 1990; Thompson, 1995; Tolman, 1994). Third, many of the studies that are sensitive to meaning rely on data gathered more than a decade ago, before the advent of HIV/AIDS as a public problem and the full impact of the New Right backlash against liberal sexual ideology (e.g., Brumberg, 1997; Rubin, 1990; Thompson, 1995).

THEORETICAL BACKGROUND

My analysis relies on an understanding of sexuality as profoundly shaped by social factors or socially constructed (Gagnon & Simon, 1973; Laws & Schwartz, 1977; Stein, 1989; Vance, 1991). Different cultural groups, both within and across societies, interpret different activities as sexual and imbue different sexual practices with specific meanings. At the same time, individuals actively interpret and reinterpret their sexual experiences over their lifetimes, thereby creating their identities as sexual beings. The patterned ways in which cultures and individuals approach sexuality can be understood as interpretive frames, schemas that enable people to "locate, perceive, identify, and label" occurrences within their life and the social world at large (Goffman, 1974, p. 21).

Diverse ways of framing specific aspects of sexuality, such as virginity loss, may be available in a given society at a single time. The frames that are available serve as part of the cultural "toolkit" with which individuals construct their sexual identities (Swidler, 1986). In the contemporary West, sexuality constitutes a central feature of identity; individuals are to a great degree defined by themselves and others, both socially and morally, in terms of their sexuality (Foucault, 1978; Giddens, 1992; Plummer, 1995; Weeks, 1985). Early sexual experiences, perhaps especially virginity loss, appear to be crucial steps through which individuals develop a sense of their identities as sexual beings (Gagnon & Simon, 1973; Holland et al., 1996).

In modern social life, identity (or self) comprises an ongoing project on which people expend considerable creative effort (Giddens, 1992). Sociologists typically theorize identity as a bridge linking the individual and society. One can usefully distinguish between social identity, the identities people attribute or impute to others, and personal identity, the meanings people attribute to their own selves (Snow & Anderson, 1987).(1) Social and personal identity are not necessarily congruent. For instance, a young woman may be perceived by her friends as a virgin (social identity) while knowing herself to be a nonvirgin (personal identity). Identity comprises multiple dimensions, of which sexual identity (incorporating virginity status) is only one. Various dimensions of identity are intertwined in ways that depend in part on individuals' interpretations of those dimensions. For example, people who interpret virginity as a stigma might associate virgin identity with "loser" or "geek" identity, whereas people who frame virginity as valuable gift might link virgin identity with traditional feminine identity.

Different interpretive frames imply different evaluations of virgin and nonvirgin identity. A person may embrace or distance himself from a particular social or personal identity, depending on his and others' interpretations of it. Should he desire a different identity than the one he has, he may work to obtain a new one, either in fact (as when a virgin seeks to lose his virginity) or in appearance (as when a virgin portrays himself as a nonvirgin). Not static, identity changes over the life course, as when people adopt new social roles or statuses. Transitions from one identity to another comprise rites of passage or status passages; virginity loss, entailing the transition from virgin to nonvirgin identity, constitutes just such a passage (Glaser & Strauss, 1971; Turner, 1969; van Gennep, 1908). (Although the literature on status passages typically assumes congruence between social and personal identity, transitions can presumably occur independently at either level.) Undergoing a rite of passage involves relinquishing one identity in order to replace it with another. Therefore, how people approach a status passage and how they conduct themselves afterwards depend in part on their beliefs about both the initial and new identities (as well as on the beliefs of those around them).

Definitions and interpretations of virginity loss serve as tools for constructing sexual identity at both the social and personal levels. The ways people define virginity loss determine the point at which they see themselves--and others--as moving from virgin to nonvirgin identity as well as whom they deem eligible to make that transition. Not least because they imply evaluations of the desirability of virgin and nonvirgin identity, interpretations of virginity loss influence individuals' conduct, including their decisions about when to lose virginity (i.e., when to adopt a new personal and/or social identity) and how to present themselves to others (i.e., what social identity to claim, possibly distinct from personal identity). As we will see, the ambiguity of virginity loss affords people some, if limited, discretion in constructing their sexual identities.

CHANGING MEANINGS AND DEFINITIONS OF VIRGINITY LOSS

Although the loss of virginity has been almost universally recognized as an important rite of passage, comprising part of the transition from childhood to adulthood, beliefs about the meaning of and criteria for making the transition from virginity to nonvirginity have varied considerably (Muuss, 1970; Schlegel, 1995). Within the U.S., notions about the meaning of virginity loss--rooted in a Christian tradition venerating virginity (Aries, 1985)--have changed significantly over time. In the mid- to late-nineteenth century U.S., virginity implied purity and innocence from sexual experience and desire, and was seen as a natural and necessary state for unmarried women (Nathanson, 1991; Welter, 1983). Virginity loss was framed as an irrevocable loss of innocence and, if it took place outside of marriage, as the onset of moral corruption, madness, and even death. After about 1900, new ways of framing virginity loss became ascendant, accompanied by changes in sexual conduct. At the beginning of the century, young men typically saw their own virginity as a neutral or negative attribute, whereas young women perceived theirs as a thing of value. Yet, in contrast with previous eras, the belief that virginity was valuable for women did not preclude a growing proportion of young women and men from framing virginity loss as appropriate within the context of serious premarital relationships. From about 1920 on, young people increasingly opted to lose their virginity before marriage, typically with the person they planned to marry (Brumberg, 1997; D'Emilio & Freedman, 1988; Modell, 1983; Rubin, 1990).

This pattern prevailed until the mid 1960s, when young people, especially young women, more and more came to approve of and engage in premarital sexual intercourse with partners whom they did not expect to marry (Hofferth, Kahn, & Baldwin, 1987; Jessor & Jessor, 1975; Reiss, 1960; Zelnik & Shah, 1983). Although men's virginity continued to be framed as neutral or stigmatizing, for women a new frame emerged in which virginity was neither desirable nor undesirable (Rubin, 1990). By the 1980s, some young women even adopted frames more typical of men, perceiving virginity as an embarrassment or unwanted constraint (Brumberg, 1997; Rubin, 1990; Thompson, 1995), a stance which may have grown more prevalent during the 1990s (Sprecher & Regan, 1996). Over this period, gender differences in the prevalence and timing of first coitus narrowed considerably, largely due to changes in women's conduct (King, Balswick, & Robinson, 1977; Sherwin & Corbett, 1985; though see Ehrenreich, Hess, & Jacobs, 1986).

These broad changes did not, however, entirely displace traditional notions positing virginity as a virtue in women but as a negative trait in men (Ferrell, Tolone, & Walsh, 1977; Moffatt, 1987; Sprecher & Regan, 1996; Thompson, 1990). Beginning in the mid 1980s, frames casting virginity as valuable gained renewed popularity in certain segments of society. For instance, members of the New Right promoted a new frame advocating premarital virginity for both men and women; some proponents even claimed that virginity could be regained, provided sufficient repentance and commitment to future chastity (Dobie, 1995; Ingrassia, 1994). Indeed, one study found that, between 1990 and 1995, an increasing proportion of young men expressed pride and happiness about remaining virgins (Sprecher & Regan, 1996). As a consequence of these many changes, diverse ways of framing virginity loss--and sex in general--coexist in the present-day U.S. (D'Emilio & Freedman, 1988; Seidman, 1991).

Concern with specifying exactly which sexual acts could result in virginity loss appears to be a recent phenomenon, part of a general tendency, beginning in the late nineteenth century and accelerating over the course of the twentieth, to approach human sexuality as a medical, rather than a moral, matter. Public health experts' focus on "risk behaviors" is one prominent recent expression of the medicalization of sexuality (Nathanson, 1991; Tiefer, 1995; Weeks, 1985). Before the twentieth century, virginity loss was probably understood as resulting from vaginal intercourse, but not from partnered sexual activities such as manual stimulation (van de Walle & Muhsam, 1995). Yet, the primary conceptualization of virginity loss was in moral terms--as an irreversible transition from innocence (and virtue) to experience (and corruption)--rather than in terms of the performance of specific physical acts (Nathanson, 1991). Popular literature in the highly sexually-restrictive late nineteenth century included more than one cautionary tale in which young women lost their virtue without engaging in a genital sexual act (Welter, 1983). Attempts to establish physical criteria for virginity loss could be seen as early as the 1830s, with the "invention" of petting--noncoital sexual contact intended not to compromise premarital virginity (Rothman, 1983). But it was not until the 1920s that popular understandings of virginity loss came to center on delineating the sexual activities in which virgins could engage without losing virginity. From then on, the practice of engaging in noncoital genital sexual activity with the express intent of retaining virginity became increasingly widespread. Scholars have referred to this phenomenon as technical virginity (Newcomer & Udry, 1985). Technical virgins almost invariably equate virginity loss with first coitus, although, as Rubin (1990) notes, the content of "everything but" coitus has changed over time, most notably to include oral sex. In every era, virginity loss appears to have been understood as possible only between a woman and a man.

In contemporary popular and academic literature, the term virginity loss denotes first coitus. As one advice manual for teen women explains, "Unless his penis penetrates your vagina, you're a virgin" (Solin, 1996, p. 85). Similarly, social scientists often use the terms nonvirgin and virgin as shorthand to describe people who have and have not experienced vaginal intercourse (e.g., Jessor & Jessor, 1975; Schuster, Bell, & Kanouse, 1996). Few modern scholars appear to have consciously considered the possibility that virginity loss could refer to an experience other than first coitus. Yet, despite this apparent consensus, the definition of virginity remains somewhat ambiguous. In the one study (to my knowledge) to investigate explicitly how young people define virginity loss, only four fifths of respondents agreed that a woman would lose her virginity "if her vagina [was] fully penetrated by a penis" (Berger & Wenger, 1973, p. 669). Furthermore, anecdotal evidence suggests that young lesbians and gay men have recently begun to reframe virginity loss as including sex between same-sex partners (Elder, 1996; Hart, 1995), rather than deeming virginity loss as irrelevant to their own experiences as was common in the past (Raymond, 1994).

Definitions of sex are similarly ambiguous. On the one hand, when

(heterosexual) women and men in the U.S. and Britain use the term sex, they almost always refer to vaginal-penile intercourse (Holland et al., 1996; Wight, 1994). However, Sanders and Reinisch (1999) found that many (41%) college students thought of oral-genital contact as sex and even more (81%) considered anal-genital contact sex. In light of the definitional ambiguity surrounding both sex and virginity loss, the common formula defining virginity loss as occurring the first time a person has sex appears deceptively straightforward.

DATA AND RESEARCH METHODS

This study relies on data from in-depth case studies of 61 women and men, the majority of whom lived in the greater Philadelphia metropolitan region. Of the 33 women, 22 (67%) self-identified as heterosexual, 7 (21%) as lesbians, and 4 (12%) as bisexual. Of the 28 men, 17 (61%) described themselves as heterosexual, 9 (32%) as gay, and 2 (7%) as bisexual. Respondents came from diverse backgrounds. Almost 80% were White, 10% were African-American, 7% were Latino, and 5% were Asian-American. Two thirds were from middle-class backgrounds, as measured by parental education and occupation, and the remaining one third were from working-class backgrounds. Fifty-five percent of respondents were both White and from middle-class backgrounds. One third (21) were raised main-line Protestant, one fourth (16) Roman Catholic, one sixth (10) evangelical Protestant, one eighth (8) Jewish, and one tenth (6) nonreligious. Fifty-six of the 61 described themselves as nonvirgins at the time of the interview. Of these 56, 88% reported losing their virginity during adolescence (at age 16.4 on average).

Respondents ranged in age from 18 to 35, with an average age of about 25. Age distributions differed little by gender or by sexual orientation. My goal of situating virginity loss in the broader context of earlier and later sexual experiences prompted my decision to interview young adults (over age 17) rather than adolescents. Although I did not limit the sample to nonvirgins, in selecting respondents 18 or older, I could be assured that the vast majority would have become sexually active prior to the interview (Laumann et al., 1994). Interviewing young adults also facilitated comparison across sexual orientation. Because people who identify themselves as lesbian, gay, or bisexual seldom do so, especially publicly, before their late teens (Raymond, 1994), locating nonheterosexual adolescents to interview would have proved difficult. The upper limit of the age range, 35, was set to include people who became sexually active before as well as after HIV/AIDS became a prominent public health issue, but to exclude those who became teenagers before the so-called Sexual Revolution was well established (in the early 1970s).

To locate study participants, I used the purposive snowball sampling method. Initial respondents were recommended by professional contacts and special-interest organizations; I then asked every person I interviewed to introduce me to others who might agree to take part in the study. Snowball sampling offered several advantages crucial to achieving my research aims. Recruiting study participants through their own social networks may have helped overcome reluctance to participate in research on a topic typically perceived as very private (Sterk-Elifson, 1994; Thompson, 1995). (Although large-scale sexuality surveys have successfully employed random samples--e.g., Laumann, Gagnon, Michael & Michaels, 1994--such methods may not be appropriate for gathering in-depth subjective accounts of sexual experiences.) Snowball sampling moreover enabled me to identify gay and bisexual women and men, who are not numerically common, readily "visible," or evenly distributed throughout the U.S. population (Biernacki & Waldorf, 1981).

Drawbacks of snowball samples include their nonrandom, nonrepresentative nature, which prevents the researcher from directly generalizing findings to a broader population. Additionally, because social networks tend to be relatively homogeneous, the members of each snowball are likely to hold similar beliefs.(2) To counter this potential source of bias and to increase sample diversity, I started several snowballs in each of the four main gender-sexual orientation categories and limited each snowball to five members.(3) The typically small size of snowball samples also hinders the ability to generalize. Yet, a small, nonrandom sample may be sufficient for researchers who are concerned primarily with discovering the range of ideas or behaviors available in a given culture, rather than their prevalence in a population. Indeed, one of the most striking aspects of the 61 interviews I conducted is the frequency with which different respondents raised the same general themes. Glaser and Strauss (1967) refer to this phenomenon as saturation. Given the focus of my research, then, the advantages of the snowball sampling method outweighed the drawbacks.

Interview Methods

To gather data for this project, I relied on in-depth, semi-structured interviews. Most questions were open ended so that participants could speak freely and at length about what they perceived as the salient aspects of virginity loss, thereby enabling me to collect a wealth of detailed data on subjective interpretations and experiences. Yet every interview asked about the same categories of information--the definition and meaning of virginity loss, learning about virginity loss, personal sexual history, and virginity-related social interactions--facilitating comparisons among respondents. In-depth interviews provide respondents with the opportunity, often lacking in traditional social science surveys, to explain experiences that defy simple categorization. They also enhance participants' ability to ascertain the trustworthiness of the interviewer, and thus may promote more extensive, detailed, or truthful accounts. Conversely, closed-ended questions presume a priori knowledge of the possible range of understandings that people bring to phenomena like virginity loss. Exploratory studies such as mine provide a necessary foundation for surveys seeking to illuminate the subjective aspects of virginity loss.

Interviews lasted from 1 to 3 hours and took place at a location chosen by the respondent (typically the respondent's home or office, or my office), Participants were informed that their identities would remain confidential and anonymous and that they could stop the interview at any time; they were not compensated for taking part in the study. The Human Subjects Committee of the Institutional Review Board of the University of Pennsylvania approved the study design, interview protocol, and consent form.

I conducted every interview in person between April 1997 and October 1998. This period overlapped with the independent council investigation of the relationship between President Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, which arguably prompted a national consciousness raising about the definitional ambiguity of sex. Twenty-five interviews took place in or after late January 1998, when allegations that Lewinsky had performed fellatio on Clinton were first widely publicized. Five of these 25 respondents mentioned the Clinton-Lewinsky controversy during our interviews; 6 of the 25 self-identified as heterosexual. People seldom question the commonsense equation of sex with vaginal-penile intercourse, unless they have personally experienced (and recognized) desire for same-sex partners. (The seeming "naturalness" of heterosexuality is a key component of the phenomenon Rich, 1980, named compulsory heterosexuality.) Therefore, although I expected that gay and bisexual respondents would have interrogated the sex-coitus equation during the process of coming out (and thus well before the interviews), I was concerned that the extraordinary circumstances of the Clinton-Lewinsky investigation might have prompted heterosexual respondents to revise their definitions of virginity loss, thus biasing later interviews. Fortunately, the timing of the interviews appeared not to affect their content. Regardless of when I spoke with them, most heterosexual respondents initially defined virginity loss with a simple statement such as "[Virginity loss is] the first time having sex" (Lavinia, 30, heterosexual), by which they meant vaginal intercourse.(4) In contrast, virtually every lesbian, gay, or bisexual participant responded by raising the issue of sex between same-sex partners, often referring more generally to the existence of different ways of defining sex.

Methods of Analysis

To code and analyze interview data, I relied primarily on the systematic procedures referred to as grounded theory (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). Developed to optimize analysis of qualitative data, the grounded theory approach stresses the inductive development of the analytic categories guiding the researcher's inquiries. This strategy helps the researcher focus on the meaning of experiences to study participants. My analysis thus seeks to represent faithfully the means through which real people make sense of their social world. To uncover patterns in respondents' talk about virginity loss, I read transcripts of each interview several times, allowing salient themes to emerge from them. For example, I did not ask study participants whether they saw virginity as a gift or as a stigma; that respondents thought about virginity in these metaphorical terms emerged during the course of the interviews and analysis. Using these emergent themes, along with key topics as cited in the relevant literature, I developed a guide for coding the interviews, which I then reread, identifying these themes and topics as they appeared.

FINDINGS

Defining Virginity Loss

Participants in my study were in complete agreement about a few aspects of the definition of virginity loss. In particular, every respondent believed that vaginal-penile intercourse would constitute virginity loss, if it were the first partnered sexual activity in which a woman or man had engaged. Furthermore, every respondent stipulated that a person could not lose her or his virginity without the involvement of a human partner and the stimulation--by more than manual means alone--of at least one partner's genitalia. Less agreement existed regarding other sexual acts that could take place between a woman and a man.(5) About one fourth (17) of respondents believed that a woman or a man who engaged in oral sex with an opposite-sex partner would lose her or his virginity. For example, Marty (26, heterosexual) said of oral sex, "That's fooling around, in my terminology." More respondents-56%--thought that anal intercourse between a man and a woman could constitute virginity loss.(6)

The prevalence of anti-gay sentiment in the U.S. notwithstanding, a majority of study participants claimed that it was possible to lose one's virginity with a same-sex partner. Four fifths of respondents (49) believed that both men and women could lose their virginity with a same-sex partner. Another 10% believed that men could lose their virginity with same-sex partners, but that women could not. Only 4 respondents argued that virginity loss could take place only through coitus. Respondents who saw same-sex virginity loss as possible took two different perspectives regarding the sex, or sexual orientation, of the virgin and her/his partner. About half of participants (29) posited different standards of virginity loss for sex between same- and opposite-sex partners. For example, Meghan (22, heterosexual) said: "I guess virginity has to be defined within each type of relationship, like woman-woman, man-man, heterosexual ... If that is their way of making love ... I think probably no, they wouldn't be a virgin." Another one third (20) believed that anal sex, oral sex, and coitus were equally capable of resulting in virginity loss, regardless of the sex of the partners involved. For example, Seth (19, gay) explained: "I think of oral sex as sex, and I think of anal sex as sex, and I think of vaginal sex as sex. Those are kind of like the three things that I think of as sex." (On the tendency to create hierarchies among sexual acts, see Rubin, 1984.)

Definitions of virginity loss varied by sexual orientation, in ways that correspond to the particular concerns of people who are heterosexual and people who are not. For example, all but one of the nonheterosexual respondents contended that both women and men could lose their virginity with partners of either sex, compared with just under three fourths of heterosexual participants. Lesbians, gay men, and bisexuals were also considerably more likely than heterosexual women and men to say that vaginal, oral, and anal sex would all result in virginity loss, regardless of the sex of the actors (59% and 18%, respectively). Several respondents suggested that people who support such a single-standard definition of virginity may do so out of a desire to establish equal status or acceptance for gay sex, an issue arguably of greater concern to gay and bisexual women and men than to their heterosexual counterparts.

There was little agreement about nonconsensual sex experiences. Just under half of the respondents (26) believed that rape would constitute virginity loss. For example, Karen (21, heterosexual) said: "[Rape] would definitely be intercourse, so I wouldn't consider them a virgin. Unfortunately." About one third (22) felt that a person absolutely could not lose their virginity as a result of rape. According to Matt (24, heterosexual):

   I guess losing your virginity is at least partially defined by the
   experience you gained about sex and relationships. And I think that there's
   so much that's strange about [rape and molestation] that they may not
   really fall into that category.

The remaining 13 participants fell somewhere in between these two extremes, arguing that although a person who was raped was technically (i.e., physiologically) no longer a virgin, in many ways they still were. For instance, Carrie (20, heterosexual) said:

   I see virginity as definitely something that you can choose into, and
   people ... don't get to choose into rape ... If their only sexual
   experience has been something like a rape, I would call them a virgin even
   though technically, um, something did happen.

In short, respondents disagreed as to whether nonconsensual sex should be categorized as a form of sex, albeit an undesirable one, or whether it was, in some sense, not really sex at all. They also disagreed as to whether virginity loss could or should occur only on a voluntary basis.

Beliefs about virginity loss and nonconsensual sex were patterned by gender, consistent with the distinctive concerns women and men have regarding sexuality. Nearly two thirds of women in the study said that rape could never or could only technically constitute virginity loss, compared with only half of men. This gender difference appears to stem from a variety of social factors, especially women's greater susceptibility to rape and the greater likelihood that women respondents had themselves experienced a nonconsensual sexual encounter. (For national data, see Laumann et al., 1994.) One fourth (8) of the women in the study had been victims of forced sex, compared with only one man. None of these nine respondents believed that virginity could be lost through coerced sex.

Another dimension of social identity along which definitions of virginity loss were patterned was age. Younger respondents (25 and under) were more likely than their older counterparts to view same-sex virginity loss as possible (91% and 67% of younger and older respondents, respectively) and to believe that nonconsensual sex could not or could only technically result in virginity loss (55% and 15% of younger and older respondents, respectively). The extent to which younger participants thought it possible to lose virginity with a same-sex partner suggests a growing legitimization of gay and lesbian sexuality in the U.S. over time. Similarly, the greater tendency of younger respondents to exclude rape from their definitions of virginity loss may indicate partial incorporation of feminist ideas about rape into mainstream understandings of sexuality. It is noteworthy that younger respondents appear to be redefining virginity loss rather than choosing to abandon the concept of virginity altogether. Their decisions stand as testimony to the continuing social significance of the categories of virgin and nonvirgin in the face of a changing sexual landscape.

Identifying Personal Virginity-loss Experiences

Another way to evaluate what people mean when they talk about virginity loss is to look at which experiences they identify as the point at which they lost their own virginity. Of the 56 respondents who were not virgins at the time of the interview, four fifths said that they had lost their virginity the first time they engaged in coitus. Eight participants reported losing their virginity the first time they gave or received oral sex and 2 identified the first time they had anal sex as the point at which they lost their virginity. (Five of the respondents who identified a first same-sex encounter as the point at which they lost their virginity did so only in retrospect; at the time of the encounter, they had not yet questioned the common definition of virginity loss as a person's first experience with coitus.)

Which experiences respondents identified as resulting in their own loss of virginity varied by sexual orientation. All 37 nonvirgin heterosexual respondents and 4 of 5 nonvirgin bisexual respondents reported losing their virginity the first time they engaged in coitus. In contrast, only one third of gay and lesbian respondents said that they lost their virginity via coitus. Lesbians were quite a bit more likely than gay men to have lost their virginity through coitus: 4 of 6 nonvirgin lesbian respondents had done so, compared with only 1 of 8 nonvirgin gay men. Only one respondent, a gay man named Seth, reported losing his virginity with an opposite-sex partner by engaging in some act other than coitus (reciprocal oral sex). Of the 48 respondents who had ever engaged in coitus, 2 did not currently identify their first experience of coitus as the point at which they lost their virginity. Sarah (33, lesbian) said she lost her virginity the first time she performed oral sex on another woman; she engaged in one act of coitus 2 years later. As an adult, Geoff (30, gay) pinpointed his loss of virginity as the first time he exchanged oral sex with another boy (at age 5); but as a teen, he had thought of himself as losing his virginity the first time he engaged in coitus (at age 12).

Interpreting Virginity Loss

Over the course of their lives, the women and men who participated in my study drew primarily on three distinctive metaphors to make sense of virginity and the experience of virginity loss. About half (30) of them at some point likened virginity to a gift and virginity loss to gift-giving. For instance, Kelly (24, heterosexual) said that virginity is:

   ... supposed to be something special and cherished and wonderful and
   something to keep and you give to someone who is.... I don't know if lose
   is the right word.... I'll say you give to someone, whenever you find the
   right person.

Just over half (34) of respondents compared virginity and virginity loss to stages in a broader process or rite of passage. According to Emma (24, heterosexual):

   I see everything in life as kind of a process and, losing your virginity is
   kind of the start of a process.... In general ... the first time with
   anything tends to be a little awkward at best, you know. And so ... it's
   just kind of the start of something that progresses.

Finally, just over one third (23) of participants at some point turned to the metaphor of virginity as a stigma to understand their experiences. As Kendall (28, gay) recalled:

   I think almost every teen-like movie ... was about getting laid or not
   getting laid, and what an idiot you were for not getting laid. And then
   girls, you know, hemming and hawing, "Should I put out? Should I not put
   out?" Growing up it's always been a stigma, it's always been a bad thing
   ... to be a virgin. I'm sure I knew a lot more virgins than let on. But,
   couldn't be a virgin in public.

As described here, the three primary interpretive frames are best understood as ideal types (see Weber, 1946). In practice, the boundaries between the frames, and the experiences of those who employed them, were somewhat indistinct. Moreover, about one third of respondents reported that their perspectives on virginity had changed over time, often in response to new experiences.

These metaphorical interpretive frames profoundly shaped respondents' expectations, experiences, and retrospective evaluations of virginity loss. When people think metaphorically, they compare two phenomena and expect those phenomena to resemble one another (Lakoff & Johnson, 1980). Thus, respondents who spoke of virginity as a gift anticipated the experience of "giving" their virginity to resemble giving a gift more generically. Perceiving virginity as a very valuable gift, not least because of its nonrenewable nature, these women and men were concerned primarily with finding partners who would appreciate the worth of their gift and, more important, reciprocate it with a gift of similar value (typically the recipient's own virginity or increased commitment to the relationship). The norm of reciprocity stipulates that every gift must be returned; therefore, a single gift can set in motion an endless series of exchanges, each of which strengthens the bond between the givers. Yet, while a giver can increase the odds of reciprocity by selecting a recipient who seems likely to return her gift, she cannot compel reciprocation. Givers are, therefore, always somewhat subject to the whims of recipients (at least in societies like the contemporary U.S., where social controls are relatively weak). (For more details, see Mauss, 1925; Schwartz, 1967.)

In a similar manner, participants who interpreted virginity as part of a process expected the experience of virginity loss to resemble other familiar processes, such as education or marriage, which entail a transition from one social status to another. These men and women believed that virginity loss, like social transitions in general, would increase their knowledge (about sexuality or themselves) and leave them feeling transformed. Adherents to the process frame saw virginity loss as both an inevitable and a desirable transition, but disagreed as to whether it was rapid and dramatic or gradual and incremental. (On the sociological aspects of status passages, see Glaser & Strauss, 1971; Turner, 1969; van Gennep, 1908.)

Finally, respondents who viewed virginity as a stigma were eager to discard that stigma as soon as practically possible. They typically emphasized the importance of not incurring additional stigmas, such as a reputation for sexual ineptitude, during the campaign to lose virginity. Cognizant of the ever-present possibility that their stigma could be discovered, exposed, and derided by others, many in this group sought to conceal their virginity so long as it existed. These concerns are characteristic of people who bear a temporary stigma. (For a classic statement on stigma, see Goffman, 1963.)

Patterns by Gender and Sexual Orientation

Study participants drew on different interpretive frames to understand virginity depending in part on their gender. Women and men were equally likely to have ever seen virginity loss as part of a larger process, as we see in Table 1. However, almost twice as many women as men had thought about virginity as a gift (61% of women, compared with 36% of men). Conversely, men were nearly three times more likely than women to have ever viewed virginity as a stigma (57% of men and 21% of women). This pattern is consistent with the resilient, if evolving, sexual double standard (Ferrell, et al., 1977; Moffatt, 1987; Rubin, 1990). Notably, gender differences were more pronounced among older respondents (26 and over), suggesting a possible weakening of the double standard over time.

Table 1: Interpretation of Virginity Ever by Gender and Sexual
Orientation

                 Gift         Stigma        Process

Women            61% (20)      21%  (7)     52% (17)
Men              36% (10)      57% (16)     61% (17)
Heterosexual     54% (21)      38% (15)     46% (18)
Lesbian/gay      31%  (5)      38%  (6)     73% (12)
Bisexual         67%  (4)      33%  (2)     67%  (4)
Total            49% (30)      38% (23)     56% (34)

                 Other(a)     Total(b)

Women             9%  (3)      54% (33)
Men              11%  (3)      46% (28)
Heterosexual      5%  (2)     143% (39)
Lesbian/gay      25%  (4)     167% (16)
Bisexual          0%  (0)     167%  (6)
Total            10%  (6)     153% (61)

(a) Four respondents (three gay men and one lesbian) at some point
interpreted virginity as irrelevant to their own experience; two
respondents (both heterosexual women from evangelical Protestant
backgrounds) described maintaining virginity as a way to honor one's
commitment to God.

(b) Percentages total more than 100 because some respondents
reinterpreted virginity over time.

Interpretations of virginity were also patterned by sexual orientation. As shown in Table 1, the propensity ever to interpret virginity as a stigma varied little by sexual orientation. However, many more lesbians and gay men adhered to the process frame than did their heterosexual counterparts (73% and 46%, respectively). Conversely, heterosexual respondents were more likely to have ever thought of virginity as a gift than were their gay and lesbian counterparts (54% compared with 31%). Bisexual respondents fell somewhere in between, with two thirds interpreting virginity as a gift and two thirds viewing it as a stage in a process. Gay and bisexual respondents were especially likely to have seen virginity loss as part of a process, in part because, for them, virginity loss was closely intertwined with the process of coming out.

Interpretations, Expectations, and Conduct

These interpretive frames are of particular interest because each was associated with a fairly distinctive constellation of sexual beliefs and conduct, including sexual behavior and presentation of self before and after virginity loss, relationships with virginity-loss partners, contraceptive use during virginity loss, and satisfaction with the experience of virginity loss overall. Here, I briefly discuss the ways that interpretive approaches to virginity loss shaped respondents' decisions about how to present themselves to others, especially their virginity-loss partners. In presenting themselves as virgins or nonvirgins, participants claimed particular social identities, sometimes based on and sometimes despite their personal identities (See Table 2).

Table 2: Selected Aspects of Virginity-loss (VL) Experiences by
Interpretation of Virginity Loss

                         Interpretation of virginity loss

Aspect of experience   Gift                    Stigma

Presentation of self   Most likely to be       Most likely to conceal
before/after VL.       proud of virginity;     virginity; most likely
                       most likely to be       to brag about virginity
                       ashamed of virginity    loss (when possible).

                       loss.

Communication with     Invariably admitted     Least likely to admit
VL partner,            own virginity to VL     virginity to VL partner.
                       partner. Failure to     Concealed virginity
                       discuss reciprocity     often undetected (esp.
                       concerns could lead     among younger virgins),
                       to dissatisfaction.     but discovery could be
                                               devastating.

Relationship to VL     Most likely to lose     Most likely to lose
partner,               virginity in a          virginity with a
                       serious dating          stranger or "temporary"
                       relationship,           partner e.g., a friend).
                       when in love, or
                       with a soulmate.

Contraceptive use at   Most likely to use      Least likely to use
VL (for those whose    contraceptives (79%);   contraceptives (59%);
VL was coitus).        most likely to use      often unwilling to
                       the Pill (36% of        discuss contraception
                       users), often in        with VL partner, for
                       combination with        fear of appearing
                       condoms.                inexperienced.

Overall satisfaction   Most dependent for      Typically satisfied
with VL experience,    satisfaction on the     merely by losing
                       conduct of VL           virginity, but
                       partners (due to        devastated if
                       emphasis on             ridiculed by VL
                       reciprocation).         partner.

                       Interpretation of virginity loss

Aspect of experience   Process

Presentation of self   Typically open about
before/after VL.       virginity status
                       before and after VL,
                       but neither proud
                       nor ashamed.

Communication with     Typically told
VL partner,            partners about own
                       virginity. Able to
                       overcome physically
                       or emotionally
                       unpleasant
                       experiences by
                       talking with
                       partner.

Relationship to VL     If hetero- or
partner,               bisexual, typically
                       dating VL partner.
                       If lesbian or gay,
                       VL often with
                       friend (VL part of
                       coming out process).

Contraceptive use at   Second-most likely
VL (for those whose    to use contraceptives
VL was coitus).        (67%); non-users
                       often planned to use,
                       but didn't because VL
                       encounter unplanned.

Overall satisfaction   Pleasurable
with VL experience,    experiences common.
                       Where VL not
                       pleasurable,
                       generally satisfied
                       with VL as a
                       "learning
                       experience."

Before losing their virginity, respondents who viewed virginity as a gift typically spoke openly about their virginity status with people they knew. In fact, they were often quite proud of being virgins. These men and women invariably discussed their virginity with their sexual partners, in part to ensure that their partners realized what a special gift they were about to receive. Such self-disclosure also served as a way to encourage reciprocity. Bryan (18, heterosexual), who had made a point of discussing his virginity with his girlfriend before they had sex, explained, "If you feel as though you're not loved as much as ... you love this other person, and you actually decide to have sex with this person, I think you kind of feel slighted." Communication about virginity status may have been facilitated by the nature of the relationship adherents to the gift frame had with their virginity-loss partners: They were the group most likely to lose their virginity in serious dating relationships and to be in love with their partners or to describe them as "soulmates." Respondents who interpreted virginity as a gift were the most likely to use contraceptives when they lost their virginity (79% did), a tendency apparently related to both willingness to communicate and the relationship between partners. (Data are for respondents who lost their virginity by engaging in coitus.) On the downside, however, the five respondents (all women) whose partners failed to reciprocate described their virginity-loss experiences as emotionally devastating and as diminishing their value as persons. The norm of reciprocity effectively empowers recipients at the expense of givers; therefore, participants who saw virginity as a gift were particularly vulnerable to distressing virginity-loss experiences precisely because they framed virginity as a gift.

From a policy perspective, encouraging young people to interpret virginity as a gift--a stance consistent with many abstinence-only sex education programs--is a double-edged sword, protecting against one negative potential consequence of sexual activity (pregnancy and/or STD transmission) but increasing the likelihood of another deleterious consequence (emotional distress due to partner's nonreciprocation). In contrast, even adherents to the stigma frame whose partners ridiculed them experienced virginity loss as positive on balance, inasmuch as they lost their stigma. Participants who saw virginity loss as a process achieved the goal of gaining knowledge merely through losing their virginity, thus their partners could in practice wield little power over them. I discuss the relationship among interpretive frames, gender, and sexual agency in more detail elsewhere (Carpenter, 2000).

In contrast, participants who saw virginity as a stigma were extremely reluctant to admit their virginity to anyone they knew. Many worked to disguise their virginity, either actively--by falsifying their sexual histories--or passively--by allowing or encouraging others to assume that they were no longer virgins. Not surprisingly, people who interpreted virginity as a stigma were the most likely to conceal their virginity from their virginity-loss partners. For instance, Bill (31, heterosexual) decided not to tell his partner that he was a virgin because "It was so obvious to me that she wasn't [a virgin], that I felt demeaned by, if I had [told her]." Indeed, many respondents in this group lost their virginity with relative strangers, from whom they might more easily conceal their sexual status. Most clandestine virgins avoided detection by their partners; however, the three respondents whose partners either ridiculed them as virgins or as sexually incompetent were profoundly dissatisfied with the manner in which they lost their virginity (albeit relieved to have expunged their stigma). Men were far less successful than women at concealing their virginity and sexual inexperience, perhaps due to popular stereotypes of men as sexually active and women as sexually passive. Respondents who lost their virginity at relatively advanced ages were also less successful at concealment, apparently because their similarly-aged partners were already sexually experienced. The desire of adherents to the stigma frame to avoid being stigmatized as virgins also affected their use of contraceptives. The group least likely to employ a form of contraception (59% did), a number of these respondents declined to discuss contraception--or to insist on practicing safer sex--precisely in order to avoid appearing inexperienced or foolish to their partners. Bill recalled:

   I was so nervous, it was my first time and ... I didn't want to look
   foolish, so I ended up having sex with her without any protection. And she
   said that she was okay, she had that taken care of. And I didn't go into
   any great details, I was just so nervous.

Finally, women and men who thought of virginity loss as a step in a process were typically frank about their virginity status, seeing it as cause for neither pride nor shame. Almost all of these respondents told their virginity-loss partners that they were virgins, which may have facilitated later discussions of awkward or unpleasant aspects of virginity loss. In fact, people who interpreted virginity as part of a process proved to be the best-equipped to work through physically or emotionally negative experiences by talking with their partners, generally in ways that helped ensure more positive sexual experiences later on. For example, Jennifer (25, heterosexual) expected virginity loss with her boyfriend of three months to be physically and emotionally enjoyable. Instead, she found sexual intercourse to be so unpleasant and tedious that she had no desire to have sex again. She had, however, enjoyed losing her virginity on an emotional level; this, plus her boyfriend's support and encouragement were crucial in convincing her that the physical aspects of sex would improve over time. She said:

   I didn't even enjoy it.... It just made me think it was a waste of my time
   [laughs].... I told him, "That's it?" He's like, "Isn't that enough?"
   [laughs]. And I said, "No" [laughs]. He had lost his virginity with a girl
   he had been with before. And so I think going through it with her ... he
   kind of knew that it wasn't that pretty the first time.

Respondents who saw virginity as a stage in a process were almost as likely as adherents to the gift frame to use contraceptives when they lost their virginity (67% did), probably for much the same reasons: open communication and close relationships with partners. Interestingly, of the four adherents to the process frame who lost their virginity without using contraceptives, three had at some point discussed contraception with their partners and had planned to use condoms. However, consistent with their understanding of virginity loss as stemming naturally out of a series of experiences, these young people lost their virginity when "one thing led to another" in circumstances where contraceptives were unavailable.

DISCUSSION

These findings demonstrate that considerable ambiguity surrounds the definition and interpretation of virginity loss. This ambiguity provides young women and men with a degree of flexibility: Within constraints, they may choose which specific definitions and interpretations of virginity and nonvirginity they will use in constructing their sexual identities. In recent decades at least, virginity loss has by and large been defined with reference to physiological rather than to moral criteria, and has been specifically equated with first coitus. Indeed, participants in my study defined virginity loss almost exclusively in physiological terms, with scarcely any mention of virtue or sin. Not one respondent disputed the common belief that otherwise sexually inexperienced individuals would lose their virginity the first time they engaged in coitus. However, a majority contended that, with same-sex partners, people could also lose their virginity without engaging in vaginal intercourse. Moreover, about half believed that nonconsensual coitus could not truly result in virginity loss. Given the popular equation of virginity loss with "first sex," new definitions of virginity loss suggest new understandings of sex in general. Defining virginity loss to include same-sex encounters implies an understanding of "real" sex that challenges heterosexist norms. Likewise, defining virginity loss to exclude rape implies that coercive sexual acts are not "really" sex. My study thus corroborates previous findings of disagreement over the definition of virginity loss (Berger & Wenger, 1973) and sex (Sanders & Reinisch, 1999). It also advances the literature by revealing definitional ambiguities related to sex with same-sex partners and to coercive sex (both previously unexamined).

Definitions of virginity loss constitute claims about identity, for how people define virginity loss determines how and when they believe the transition between virgin and nonvirgin identity occurs. To the extent that virginity loss forms an important part of the passage from childhood to adulthood, different definitions of virginity loss render people differentially eligible for achieving status as sexual adults. For example, the traditional equation of virginity loss with first coitus effectively denies nonvirgin identity and sexual adulthood to people who do not wish to engage in vaginal intercourse. Conversely, defining virginity loss as possible through oral or anal sex with same-sex partners extends the status passage of virginity loss to gay, bisexual, and heterosexual people alike. By a similar token, to exclude coercive sex from the definition of virginity loss is to claim that the transition from virgin to nonvirgin identity cannot be imposed by another but rather must be chosen by the person making the transition.

Given their implications for identity, it is not surprising that definitions of virginity loss were patterned by group membership, reflecting group concerns. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual respondents, whose sexual repertoires depended less on coitus than did those of their heterosexual counterparts, were considerably more likely to argue that oral and anal sex could result in virginity loss, especially between same-sex partners. These men and women thereby proposed assigning virgin and nonvirgin social identity in ways consistent with their understanding of themselves as sexual adults for whom coitus is not the central sexual act. These criteria moreover correspond with many of these respondents' own experiences of adopting nonvirgin personal identity without engaging in vaginal intercourse. Likewise, women respondents, far more likely than men to experience coercive sex, were disproportionately likely to argue that virginity loss could not occur without the virgin's consent. They therefore asserted that virgin and nonvirgin identity are to some extent voluntary.

By challenging traditional definitions of virginity loss, individuals and social groups can help alter prevailing criteria for assigning social identity and possibly also promote greater social equity. The definitional ambiguity of virginity loss allows people some discretion in choosing the point at which they adopt personal identity as nonvirgins, as when a self-identified lesbian rejects heteronormative definitions to locate her own loss of virginity at her first sexual encounter with another woman. A person whose own definition of virginity loss diverges considerably from prevailing understandings may find that others assign her a social identity that differs from her personal identity. Yet, as more individuals adopt nontraditional definitions of virginity loss, new criteria for assigning social identity may emerge and supplant older approaches. Younger respondents were more likely than their older counterparts to offer nontraditional definitions, suggesting that such changes may be underway.

Previously, scholars have established that diverse interpretations of virginity loss and sex are available in the contemporary U.S. (D'Emilio & Freedman, 1988; Seidman, 1991; Thompson, 1995). Participants in my study framed virginity loss in ways corresponding roughly to previously described understandings of virginity as valuable, stigmatized, and relatively neutral. However, my research presents a more subtle and useful picture of diverse perspectives on virginity loss. Because metaphorical ways of thinking posit similarities between two phenomena--in this case, between virginity loss and gift-giving, stigma, and learning processes--it is possible to illuminate virginity loss by drawing on sociological knowledge about the phenomena with which people compare it. The metaphorical frames for virginity loss that emerged as respondents recalled their experiences may therefore offer a particularly promising framework for future research on early sexual experiences.

My findings further extend previous studies by demonstrating the continuing evolution of interpretations of virginity loss. Like researchers before me, I found that women and men tended to interpret virginity loss differently, with women more apt to view virginity as a valuable gift and men more likely to see virginity as a stigma. Also as in earlier studies, a handful of women and men in my project embraced gender atypical views of virginity; younger participants were considerably more likely to cross this gender boundary. Yet, my interviews revealed a third way of interpreting virginity loss--as a step in a longer process--which largely transcended gender; such an interpretation has seldom been mentioned in previous research (Rubin, 1990, notes a value-neutral stance toward virginity among women but not among men). These findings suggest an ongoing trend whereby the meanings attributed to virginity loss are increasingly dissociated from gender.

Like definitions, interpretations of virginity loss serve as tools for the construction of sexual identity. When a person decides to lose her virginity, she is effectively electing to adopt a new personal identity and potentially a new social identity, should she (or another) choose to disclose her new status. Respondents based their choices about virginity loss (and related phenomena like self-presentation and contraception) on their interpretations of virginity and on what those interpretations imply about virginity and nonvirginity as identities. Adherents to the gift frame viewed virginity as a worthy personal and social identity which they were proud to claim. They strove to maintain their identity as virgins (at both levels) until they were able to make the transition to an equally respectable non virgin identity--one which signaled the deepening of a committed relationship with a loving, reciprocating partner. In contrast, respondents who saw virginity as a stigma endeavored to conceal their personal identity when they were virgins, to project a nonvirgin social identity (even when discrepant with personal identity), and to achieve the nonvirgin personal identity they desired under almost any Circumstance. People who drew on the process frame perceived both virginity and nonvirginity as acceptable social and personal identities, depending on individual circumstances, and typically adopted a social identity congruent with their personal identity both before and after virginity loss. They spoke of deciding to undergo the transition to nonvirgin personal identity when the time felt "right." The interpretive ambiguity of virginity loss allowed respondents to select from among different approaches to virginity loss, each associated with different stances toward virgin and nonvirgin identity. These diverse interpretations guided people's choices about virginity loss--the adoption of nonvirgin identity--along different paths with distinctive consequences.

CONCLUSION

In this paper, I have explored ambiguities in the definition and interpretation of virginity loss as a specific case of the ambiguities of "sex." I have also shown how individuals use definitions and interpretations of virginity loss as tools for constructing sexual identity at both the social and personal levels. Definitions of virginity loss and sex are ambiguous; with the exception of coitus, people disagree about which sexual activities can result in virginity loss and thus, by extension, about which activities are "really" sex. A similar ambiguity pertains to interpretations of virginity loss and sex, for different people ascribe diverse meanings to all manner of sexual experiences. Different definitions of virginity loss enable people to construct personal identity in different ways, by allowing them to choose, within constraints, the point at which they move from virgin to nonvirgin identity. Diverse interpretations of virginity loss likewise guide people's choices about losing virginity--and adopting a new identity--along different paths, based in part on what specific interpretive frames imply about virgin and nonvirgin identity. Having changed dramatically in the past, definitions and interpretations of virginity loss and sex continue to evolve, often apparently in response to social movements like feminism and gay rights.

Taken together, my findings challenge researchers to broaden their understandings of virginity loss and sex. Scholars need to realize that women and men in the contemporary U.S. do not simply equate virginity loss and sex with coitus. Although a few studies have adopted relatively inclusive definitions of sex (e.g., Laumann et al., 1994), more need to follow suit. In addition, researchers must bear in mind the coexistence of diverse approaches to virginity loss and sex, which may not directly correspond with gender or other aspects of social identity. Recognizing that definitions and interpretations of virginity loss vary is an important step toward developing a thorough understanding of adolescent sexuality. Such knowledge is important for its own sake as well as for the success of future research, sex education curricula, and public policy initiatives. For example, given diverse perspectives on virginity loss, survey participants may approach the same questions from different interpretive standpoints. Likewise, sex education programs that assume homogeneity in beliefs may fail to affect their audiences as intended.

The research reported here can be usefully extended in several ways. In light of previous studies suggesting distinctive patterns by racial-ethnic background (Aneshensel, Fielder, & Becerra, 1989; Horowitz, 1983; Schuster et al., 1996; Smith & Udry, 1985), and given the relative racial and ethnic homogeneity of my sample, future research should evaluate the ambiguities of virginity loss and sex among a more diverse group. Especially crucial from a public policy perspective, future investigations should also seek to establish the prevalence of these patterns in a large probability sample. Finally, research on the depiction of virginity loss in mass media would expand scholars' knowledge about the cultural resources young people possess when they approach early sexual experiences. Young people construct their identity as sexual beings in part through virginity loss, but in the contemporary U.S. the meaning of virginity loss is ambiguous, as is the meaning of sex. Better understanding of the many potential meanings of virginity loss thus constitutes a crucial step in developing the comprehensive picture of adolescent sexuality on which sex education, research, and adolescents themselves depend.

(1) Snow and Anderson (1987) identify a third dimension of identity, self-concept, which refers to a person's overarching view of herself or himself as a social. moral, and physical being and serves as a "working compromise" between social and personal identity (p. 1348).

(2) Focusing on an event that typically preceded the interview by several years may help mitigate this type of selection bias. While adult friends probably hold similar views on sexuality, shared beliefs about virginity per se may be less salient in adult than teen friendships (on teen peers, see Billy & Udry, 1985; Kinsman, Romer, Furstenberg, & Schwartz, 1998; Thompson, 1990). None of the clusters of friends 1 interviewed included people who had known one another at the time of their own virginity loss.

(3) People who are willing to participate in sexuality research may be unusually comfortable talking about sexuality or may perceive their own conduct and attitudes as consonant with social norms. Nonetheless, my sample included several very conservative and several radical respondents. Regrettably, I have no way to ascertain how many people were not included among potential participants because acquaintances declined to recommend them.

(4) To preserve confidentiality, all respondents are identified by pseudonyms.

(5) I did not ask separate questions about fellatio and cunnilingus, nor did I inquire specifically about perceptions of giving versus receiving oral sex. Respondents' remarks at various junctures indicated disagreement as to whether performing oral sex would be sufficient to cause virginity loss.

(6) Qualitative researchers typically favor terms such as many, seldom, and often over percentage statistics for fear that readers will misinterpret the latter as representing the distribution of beliefs and behaviors among a broader population. Yet, words like "many" can be vague and imprecise. For the sake of precision in meaning, I use both percentage statistics and qualitative expressions. In no case should the reader assume that these percentages can be directly generalized to young adults in the U.S. overall.

The author would like to thank Robin L. Leidner, Constance A. Nathanson, Frank F. Furstenberg, Jr., Demie Kurz, Harold J. Bershady, Sangeetha Madhavan, Gloria Y. Gadsden, Sara Kinsman, Eileen Lake, Shara Neidell, and Eva Skuratowicz for their assistance at various stages of this project.

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Manuscript accepted February 28, 2001

Address correspondence to Laura M. Carpenter, Johns Hopkins University School of Hygiene and Public Health, Department of Population and Family Health Sciences, 615 N. Wolfe St., 4th Floor, Baltimore, MD 21205; e-mail: [e-mail].