Her plan was to get an undergraduate degree, meet a man in medical school whom she would probably marry, and wait until then to have sex.
But then Jennifer Shieh came to UCLA and noticed that sex was an accepted and common part of college culture ““ she was a virgin. She was the minority.
Now a second-year physiological sciences student, Shieh is still a virgin, but the minority she’s a part of seems to be growing.
Twenty-nine percent of women ages 15-24 say they have not had sexual interactions, according to the National Survey of Family Growth. This number, from data recorded between 2006 and 2008, went up from 2002, when 22 percent of both men and women of the same ages identified themselves as virgins.
Although statistics might fluctuate, students have equally strong justifications for either having sex or abstaining in college, said UCLA psychology Professor Benjamin Karney.
For example, students at UCLA might not want to have sex because they are focused on educational and career goals and want to avoid the obstacles that diseases or pregnancy would cause, he said.
On the other hand, he said, it may be that because UCLA students are well-educated, they know how to use protection to avoid these risks.
“If you don’t know your partner well enough, you’re opening yourself up to a lot of risks,” Shieh said. “Not only emotional risks, but physical risks.”
Losing her virginity for Shieh is more than just having sex; it’s a mark of adulthood, a label for which she is not yet ready.
The importance of maintaining the title of “virgin” comes mostly from her upbringing, Shieh said.
Shieh’s parents told her she should wait until marriage. She didn’t agree, but she did think the person she had sex with would be the one she was likely to marry.
She associates virginity with innocence, purity and childhood.
Right now, she’s a college student, still in limbo between adolescence and adulthood.
“To me … sex is strictly reserved for adults,” she said. “When I tell myself, “˜You’re able to take care of yourself,’ sex is an open possibility. But right now, sex is off-limits.”
While it’s no longer as important that the person she loses her virginity to is “the one,” Shieh said the most important criterion for her is that, looking back after the relationship is over, she will be able to think about the experience without regrets.
Given the right partner, the right setup, the right time, she would be open to having sex.
“There’s a romance in it,” Shieh said. “For me, sex has to be romantic.”
Third-year world arts and cultures student Harry Weston said as long as teenagers are learning about sexual health, there shouldn’t be anything to prohibit them from having sex.
In the liberal Santa Cruz household where Weston grew up, sex was an open topic. His mother and her female partner never shied away from the subject, which Weston said has partially shaped his own openness about sex and virginity.
“I’ve never been emotionally attached to virginity as a special object,” Weston said.
He lost his virginity in a room at the Las Vegas hotel Circus Circus when he was 16.
He was on a high school band trip, and a girl from choir texted him to come to her room. When he did, his only sexual knowledge came from watching porn. He didn’t have a relationship with her before or after, but remembers the experience as a fun memory with a beautiful girl.
Although Weston was never attached to his virginity, he said he enters into a sexual relationship to reach a deeper emotional connection with another person. He doesn’t always achieve that connection, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.
“Sex is good. I like sex, and I’m careful about it,” Weston said. “As long as you’re careful about it, sex is fun.”
Yvette Windom’s upbringing had the opposite effect on her reaction to losing virginity. Windom, a third-year world arts and cultures student, was raised by a religious Catholic mother who taught her that sex was for after marriage, and Windom assumed she would wait until then.
So when she lost her virginity at 18 to her boyfriend of more than three years, she struggled with the decision and how to reconcile her sexual choice and her family’s expectations.
“I felt like I was a sinner,” Windom said. “I felt like I couldn’t wear white on my wedding day.”
But she realized she didn’t regret her actions; she was just worried about what others would think.
“It was my body, and I knew what I wanted to do with it,” Windom said. “It just felt like the right time, and I was comfortable and ready.”