Topic # 2 - Sexual Consent
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Topic # 2 - Sexual Consent
Good afternoon Board Guests. Your discussion topic for today is: If you were to decide the legal age for sexual consent, what age would it be and why? Now, fess up! How old were YOU when you lost your virginity? Oh, and since the definition of virginity seems to vary these days (Brit's no virgin by some folks' definition), for the purposes of this discussion, we mean the first time someone else made you climax, regardless of the positioning of tab A and slot B, if ya know what we mean!
Himay10ns | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 03:25 pm  Hmmm, well your definition of SEX can be debated as well. I have to admit that I climaxed while being "fiddled with" in a pick up truck when I was 16 years old. But I did not have sexual intercourse (actual penetration by a penis) until I was 23 years old. I'm a big advocate of Pro Choice. I have many personal convictions, but I do not ever pretend to be the authority on any one area. I do not feel strongly enough about sexual consent to force my views on someone else. For me, I feel I was capable of making my own decisions and choices when I left home and went off to college. I was 17. If someone younger than 16 or 17 was planning on having sex for the first time, and asked for my advice, I would strongly encourage them to wait until they felt they were emotionally able to handle the consequences of their decision (ie, rejection, sexually transmitted diseases, pregancy). |
Moondance | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 03:33 pm  Well, I got excited when I was kissed by my high school sweetheart. (I don't find it difficult to climax!) And yes, it was just a kiss. We did play around a bit later in the relationship but I had decided to save myself. For what... I am not sure ... but I am glad I waited until I was ready. BTW ... my high school sweetheart - Max was so great and even when we broke up, I promised him that I would lose "it" to him. I held to my promise and on one summer vacation from college we had that special date. (I just turned 21) To answer the other part of the question ... I would have dared someone to tell me to do something when I was in my teens ... I thought I knew everything so I made my own choices. So do tell someone to wait until it is right is imposing my belief on them. I would hope they would make the right decision on their own ... and if they needed to talk or need support I would gladly help in anyway I could. As far as a legal age ... in a Utopia society it would be older than 16... unfortunately kids are growing up sooner than I did when I was their age and there are a lot more factors involved. I would say... 16. I would wish older so we could protect them longer. Protect them from predators and from themselves |
Moondance | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 03:37 pm  FYI ... I said I thought I knew everything in my teens... well, I decided in my 20's that I didn't know much of anything! |
Xenia | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 03:55 pm  This is a compelling question. I lost my virginity at 21. (It was in the front seat of a car. The guy I was with wanted to wait until we were in a bed. I wanted to do it NOW.) It wasn't that I wanted to wait that long or waited for moral reasons. It was really all about timing and wanting to be with the right guy. But now that I'm 10 years older, and have talked to so many young women who not only lost their virginity in their early teens, but who also got pregnant, I would have to say 21 was a good age in terms of having more common sense and being less impulsive about things than I would have been at 13-16 years old. It is true teens are maturing faster these days. But I think their emotional maturity is still slow to evolve (in most cases...some teens are very mature and grounded for their age). I would say the age of consent should be 18. By that age, they should be able to make responsible choices for themselves and have the maturity to live with the consequences. |
Arreal | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 03:58 pm  I lost my virginity on August 8th, (shortly after midnight on the 7th) I was 17, going on 18. I was with the same man for 3 years and had my only child while I was with him. As far as climaxing, well that is an entirely different story. In the instance that losing one's virginity comes from having climaxed then I would have to say I was 23 before I lost my virginity. :-) I went back to school while I was pregnant to finish my senior year. I graduated when I was 20 years old. During my senior year I went on many panel discussions talking to junior high and high school age kids about how difficult it was being so young and having a child, or one on the way. Now that my daughter is 15, I worry. If I could impose my own age of consent upon the world I would say at least 21. Sounds very harsh. I would want people to be at least out of high school before they make life altering choices on the spur of the moment. But then again I would hate to see a bunch of 20 year olds being charged with crimminal offenses for having sex. I'm glad I don't have the power to set the age. Sex is a very personal thing. I wouldn't want to impose my values on others, but I am always willing to share my experiences. |
Vykin | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 04:07 pm  Answer is simple the Legal Age should be at 16years old. A person older than that having sex with an under 16year old, should be charged with rape. A person - male or female, is not mature enough prior to 16 to make rational decisions. They most certainly aren't mature enough to be parents. |
Xenia | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 04:11 pm  I agree Arreal, as much as we would like to believe a certain age is better than another, the truth is sexual experiences are so individualistic and really do play an important role in one's life. How could we possibly say what is appropriate for such a large group of people? It's a touchy subject. Excuse the pun. |
Talisker | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 06:28 pm  Interesting question . . I am not sure if there is an exact answer as to what age is right. I would say, if you feel that you are old enough to get a full time job, have your own place to live, raise a child, treat a partner with respect, then you are old enough to have sex. If not, then think about what you are doing. Before you have sex with someone, you need to feel that they are responsible too. Sex between responsible individuals is fun, exiting and sometimes comforting. It is probably the best gift we can give each other (and it is a gift I sure like giving!). But, if you have a partner that is not right for you, it can turn into a nightmare from which you don't easily get over, ever. It is not so much a matter of age as a matter of maturity and feelings and . . . . Oh, yeah . . . one month shy of 20. |
Roger_Ramjet | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 06:29 pm  So true about it being such an individual thing--just like drinking. There are 40 year olds that don't drink responsibly. Sex though----Arreal makes a good point about the possibility of not climaxing until past the time of having intercourse(well at least for females). I look at it as if an age must be picked, I go with 18. Some are responsible, so are not. Although look at what else one gets to do/can be held responsible for. Voting, war, geting sued, suing someone, typically being charged for a crime as an adult...a buch of them. Oh, when I lost my viginity, it was one day before I turned 17. |
Zebulon | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 07:33 pm  I agree that forcing anything upon a teenager will more than likely cause them to rebel and not listen. That's why it's very important for parents to find the right time and setting to make a point about issues like this and establish a certain morale in their kids where they are able to make well thought out choices. It doesn't necessarily have to be a family pow wow but maybe brief comments in relative situations throughout their early to teen years that leave a positive impression. Learning these things really does begin in the home. My personal opinion is that I would recommend a legal age of 18 for sexual consent. For the babies that aren't aborted or put up for adoption, I've seen too many high school kids forced to drop out of school and start working because of the responsibilities involved in caring for a child. I know 2 families that are still having a tough time making ends meet 13 years later. At least by 18, they will hopefully have a chance to graduate from high school and possess somewhat of an ability to make acceptable choices from the values they have learned. (Note: I only condone emergency abortions in circumstances that are beyond a woman's control such as rape or lifethreatening emergencies as established by the doctor. If there is ANY type of consent between the two individuals involved (married or otherwise), I absolutely do not condone abortion.) Well, as far as climaxing for the first time, I learned all about masturbation in junior high (7th grade). I actually lost my virginity at age 20 during a weekend camping trip with Sherri, my girlfriend of nearly 3 months. We were both in college. At the time we took the trip, we were just looking for time to ourselves and to have some peace and quiet. We drove to a place called Krause Springs and found an excellent spot to setup our tent by the most beautiful natural waterfall you could ever imagine. We spent most of the day talking and holding each other and that evening something clicked with us. We slowly explored each other's bodies and found ourselves lost in each other. Before it got really serious, that's when my own values kicked in and I realized I hadn't brought one single condom. Afterall, this was just a getaway trip for us. Sherri could almost see what I was thinking and asked me about it. I told her in a soft hushed voice that I didn't bring any protection and that I wanted to make sure we were both protected. She reached over into her purse and pulled out one single condom. She told me that she was hoping we could share our first time together on this trip, but she didn't want to rush me or my feelings. I kissed her and told her that I didn't want to rush her and she smiled and we kissed again and explored each other's bodies more than ever before. That was one point in my life I can remember in vivid detail and smile everytime I think about it. <big smile> |
Arreal | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 07:45 pm  Tell me more Zeb. pant pant pant I can't believe that I agree with you so much on this issue. Talking casually to our children is the only protection we can give them. As parents it is our responsibility to educate our children, never the school's or the church's and certainly not the government. |
Vykin | Saturday, October 07, 2000 - 07:53 pm  Okay I just reread the Big H's question and realized I didn't answer part two: First, I don't recall being taught about Tabs and Slots when I took sex education, I heard about Sluts, but never Slots. So I'm not sure about that portion. Now, the issue of age and climax, I recall going to an IMAX a few times, and that certainly was exciting, thrilling and fulfilling. But not clear if Clim-ax refers to the stairs I climbed to get to the Imax. I also know there is an Anti-Climax, but no Uncle-Climax. So as I attempt to answer Big H's question, I seem to be getting more confused. So perhaps, I should address the Age issue. It seems my first sexual experience was "ages ago", but frankly when it happened, time stood still, so I can't accurately give a proper age, though I remember being able to drink legally. Finally, the Big H says: "Oh, and since the definition of virginity seems to vary these days ", I can only respond by saying: It depends on how you define definition and how varied vary is." |
Himay10ns | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 07:14 am  Vykin, I am ROTFLMAO!!!!!!  |
Mantastic | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 01:59 pm  There was an English teacher in my high school. She taught the eighth grade. That term, we were covering Macbeth. While I was generally a bad student--reasonably bright, but completely disinterested in everything school-related--for some reason I was taken with Shakespeare. It may have had something to do with the fact that this teacher--let's call her Jocelyne--captivated me. She was English, notwithstanding her name. She had a west-London accent (I didn't know anything about accents at the time. I wouldn't have been able to tell BBC-English from Scouse. I only put it together later), and a round, soft-looking body that drew my eyes to her again and again, especially when she turned around to write things on the chalk-board. She did not dress particularly provocatively, yet one could easily see the curves of her solid, shapely legs move under the long skirts she invariably wore. Her English-ness itself was not unusual where I grew up: at that time, and in that part of Canada, just about everyone who spoke English was descended from the UK in some shape or form, and the old duffers on the street would still tell you about their experiences in the RAF in the forties bombing Dresden. Or toff-knocking and eating treacle in Lancashire. But even so, the lilting tones of her voice were very pleasant to my ears and to my imagination, tortured as it was by the entirely ordinary angst of being fourteen. She was so different from the girls around me, who liked goonies and flourescent tank tops. I wanted her. I wanted her badly. I'd sit at my desk and listen to her read the scene where Lady Macbeth chides her husband for not killing his boss, eyes closed and tumescent under my desk. "Is this a dagger I see before me?" she read, standing behind a podium, the large tome open before her. My eyes closed, my mind engaged in all sorts of forbidden, carnal educational endeavours (not on the curriculum, alas); certainly there was a dagger of sorts before me. I was just hiding it under my desk. Oftentimes she would hold a tutorial for certain students who demonstrated a particular interest in Shakespeare. Three, maybe four students from different grades would meet during lunchtime in her large office. Her office itself seemed like a reflection in architectural terms of the very material we studied. It was no modern, Breakfast Clublike, fluorescently lit institution. This school was built in the neo-Gothic tradition of the parliament buildings in Ottawa, and it looked like an extension of the 300-year old university to which it was adjacent. Her office was on the second floor of a rounded brownstone building that had, if you can believe it, actual turrets. It was decorated with three dusty oxblood chairs, missing the rivets, and an anachronistic, giant yellow-oak desk from the twenties that looked very out of place. Books lined the walls, almost as if in deference to the cliché of the teacher's abode. I joined the club. I kept quiet and let others do most of the talking; something I still do to this day. It was high-school. The talks weren't laden with scintillating epiphanies, as would similar meetings in university and then later in grad-school for me, but to this fourteen-year-old kid who only played hockey after school and dreamed of what lay underneath those skirts, those meetings were fraught with intellectual and sexual discovery. Three weeks after I joined the little group, on a Friday afternoon at lunchtime, I showed up in her office for that week's meeting. My giant duffel bag, containing hockey gear, was slung awkwardly over my shoulder. She was seated behind her desk, many books open before her. No one else was there. It was chilly in the office. The cold winter winds that blew down the mountain upon which the school was perched easily penetrated the double-paned glass of the two small windows. You could feel the drafts on your ankles as they blew across the hardwood floors. The radiators clattered and hissed, and the heat they put out pounded your body from about the waist up. A pot of tea steamed contentedly on her desk. She looked up cheerily. "Ah, company!" she pipped. "Come to read about murder and mayhem on this chilly February day?" "Um… yeah," I answered, looking around nervously. I put my stick down, and shrugged off my bag, which thumped to the floor. "Good. Close the door. No sense in having the real world interrupt our little journey into the vagaries of Elizabethan bloodlust, yes?" she smiled and joked. And I was acheing for her. That was all it took. One light, joking sentence and all that Northern chill was melted into the white hot heat of teenage infatuation. Feverish, I could barely answer. All I heard was "Blah blah blah blah LUST?" I blinked. Tried to get control of my desire for those legs, and where they led. "Would you like some brandy?" she asked. "Uh... Sure." "I won't tell if you won't," she said conspiratorially, and handed me a snifter. My ears burned. She gestured for me to have a seat in one of the big chairs. There was one that faced her desk, about two feet away from the front edge of it. I settled back into the chair. I'm not small, but it still enveloped me completely. I cradled the hot brandy, sipped it too fast. Jocelyne came out from behind her desk, and sat on the edge, facing me. My hands gripped the puffy leather on the arms. I could smell her. Now, fifteen years later, I know the smell. Opium. To this day I smell that scent and am transported back to that chilly winter day, sweatily facing the vision of exotic, unattainable, forbidden object of my desire. We commenced the lesson. She read. I listened and answered haltingly to her questions. A half-hour passed. She poured me two more brandies, which she kept on the radiator. My head began to swim. As she sat there, one leg crossed over the other, the book open on her lap, my eyes wandered up her leg, from her no-nonsense Mary Poppins shoes up her calf, past her knee, to where the skirt obscured the vision of the wonders beneath. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate. Soon she kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs. She put the book aside. "You're not paying attention," she chided. I didn't answer. Just looked down at my own lap. She said my name. I shivered and looked up. "Don't you like Macbeth?" "Yes," I answered. "Are you having trouble concentrating?" she asked. I didn't answer. Just kept looking down. She reached over from her perch on the desk and tipped my head up, looking into my eyes, with frank curiousity and half a smile on her red lips. She unfolded her legs and leaned forward. I fixed my stare at her calves, trying to concentrate on anything but the puptent growing in my lap. "Wha? You don't half fancy me, don't you?" she said in a low voice. "You looking at Joss's knickers?" My heart nearly stopped in my chest. My vision swam. Caught! I've been caught! I thought. But she uncrossed her legs and placed one on either arm of my chair. My eyes met hers briefly. Jocelyne slowly gathered her skirt up with her fingers, crinkling the fabric in her fists as it rose up her round calves and past her knees. "Touch them. It's alright…" she proffered. My hands, with minds of their own, found her warm skin. I cupped the flesh of her lower legs, and moved my hands up, trying to go past the soft skin behind her knees. She stopped me with a wicked smile. "Not so fast, me fine young bloke. Not so fast." My hands wrapped around her calves, her legs enveloping me, her skirt rising slowly. I watched. Her skirt lifted slowly to reveal her inner thighs. A mesmerising flash of white panties. Is it possible to express in these awkward, comparatively inexpressive things we call words what it means to an adolescent (or any man, at any time, come to think of it) to get a fleeting, unexpected glimpse of a sexy woman's panties? I think not. Imagine the most exciting, forbidden, discovery of something long lost; something so atavistically needful that you didn't even know you'd lost it, and the sudden dawning understanding that this is what you've been put on earth to find, to partake in, to own. To dive into it; to consume it. Multiply that times ten. She spread her legs slowly. My inexperienced eyes goggled at the beautiful, mystical, unbearably sweet site before them. Her panties clung to her body tightly, the round shapes of her thighs and behind outlined in excruciating detail. Jocelyne's eyes burned down at mine, as she displayed herself to me. It wasn't crass or sleazy in any way. If anything it was kind of sweetly innocent. I simply took in what she had to give. I never touched her above the knees. She never touched me, except for my hands. I felt a swelling, bursting thirst gathering momentum in my centre. I had no control over it. I let it come. She smiled at me and let it happen. The gathering momentum of this urgent thirst, or itch, or whatever, consumed me and burst forth within me, pleasure spilling over. I squeezed my eyes shut and my body sagged with the intensity. I faced this gift she was giving me, and would have happily sent the rest of my life parked right there. I think I passed out. Certainly the world stopped turning for awhile. She let me look at her for the sweetest five minutes of my life. A school bell rang outside. It was the five minute bell. It jarred me back to a sticky reality. Her legs closed, eclipsing my view with the white of inner thigh and then the blue fabric of her skirt. She wheeled around and hopped off the desk, returning to her chair behind the desk. She flipped through the pages of a book before her. She glimpsed up at me with a smile crinkling her eyes. "Off you go," she said kindly. I stood up and picked up my enormous bag. I held it in front of my lap, hockey stick under one arm. I shuffled out and went to the last classes of the day, and then to hockey like I did every day after school. Scored a goal that afternoon, I think. Heh. Then off to live my life, having gotten the sweetest gift a teacher could give. ------ How old is old enough? Don't know. Don't particularly care. Old enough to get what it means to share the intensity of meaningful sexual contact with another person. The above is based on a true story. |
Moondance | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 02:25 pm  Okay... I am hot and wanting to be a teacher! I have always loved Shakespeare so... |
Moondance | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 02:28 pm  I meant to say hot and bothered ... not just hot ... Oh Man! (sam, you older fellow you) what you have done to me! |
Roger_Ramjet | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 02:32 pm  Geez--it's apparent I went to the wrong schools. Moon--want a towel?? (I know--it was a smart-ass comment--unless you really do need one! lol) |
Moondance | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 02:46 pm  Depends on long he can last Roger |
Roger_Ramjet | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 02:48 pm  Moon--Good one!! LMAO |
Luke | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 03:22 pm  17... I was 17 when I lost my virginity... with a man that was in his 40's. I probably would have had sex earlier, but something inside me kept me from falling into peer pressure and have sex with a girl. I'm glad I waited... and that my first experience with sex was with another man. When I have children, I'm definitely going to talk to them about sex at an early age. I believe that the more that kids learn from within their own family, rather than from their friends or from TV, the better. And likewise--the better prepared they will be to make responsible decisions. After all, I've already been preparing for the fact that my kids are going to grow up with a gay dad. At 17, it's hard for me to say whether I was ready or not. I definitely know that I didn't know diddley squat when I was 17... about being gay or having sex or anything for that matter! But I think now, taking into consideration US society, I'd say 16 (or perhaps even a year or two younger for more morally and sexually progressive places such as the Netherlands...) |
Talisker | Sunday, October 08, 2000 - 07:51 pm  Mantasitic! *gasp* *blink* *stare* I'm not just hot . . I'm wet!! |
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