Virgin Island

Yes, that is indeed me on Channel 4's Virgin Island

Image: Channel 4

There’s a classic scene from The Simpsons episode “Grade School Confidential”, where Principal Skinner and Edna Krabappel, after having their elicit affair discovered by the town, barricade themselves inside the school. Eventually, to placate the outraged people of Springfield, Skinner tells a lie so degrading that nobody would ever declare it falsely; he is a virgin. “I’ll never look at him the same way again” scoffs Groundskeeper Willie.

Unlike Skinner, I really am a virgin. Just over a year ago, I was sent a casting call for this provocative new Channel 4 show from a friend who knew of my romantic struggles. “Are you a virgin or have always struggled with intimacy? Do you want some help?” declared the ad. My initial reaction was “no chance”. “Go on lol” said my friend. Well, unbeknownst to him, go on I did.

First, a bit of background. I’m 31-years old (30 when the show was filmed) and I have never had sex. How does an average-looking, relatively normal guy find himself in such an unenviable position? Well, aside from my general introverted and all-round “quirky” nature, I think a lot of it stems from bullying I received in school. It was never as severe as some people experience, but it often centred on my looks. In primary school it was because I was smaller than everyone else, and then once I’d grown to a more normal size in secondary school, it was my naturally pale skin that bore the brunt of the attacks.

The vast majority of the bullying I suffered was at the hands of other boys, but it nonetheless instilled within me this belief that despite my decent intellect, I was physically repulsive to women especially, and that no sane girl could possibly find me attractive. I simply never saw myself as capable of being desired in a romantic sense, and as a result I essentially shut myself off from even attempting to date girls during college and university. Relationships were for other people, I subconsciously told myself. It left me feeling somewhat sad and isolated, like an alien or an artificial human who just couldn’t quite grasp the intricacies of love.

Throughout my 20s, I gradually and belatedly entered the world of dating, but I have always felt as if I’m playing catch-up, swimming hopelessly against a tide of formative teenage experiences I never had.

Believe it or not, since the age of 21, I have been on dates with over 40 different women (yes, I have kept track of this on a spreadsheet), although most never went beyond a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t until early 2023 when I had my first proper snog.

Image: Channel 4

Despite being a complete sex rookie, I’ve even had two girlfriends. The first was just as inexperienced as I, and me being me I didn’t have the confidence to “push through it” as some might have had me do. The other, whom I dated in 2023, was both experienced and perfectly understanding of my situation. Unfortunately, my many years of inexperience had built up to such a level that I flat-out turned down the opportunity to have sex with her on multiple occasions out of fear, although ironically we did literally sleep together in the same bed several times.

Fear of what I’m not quite sure, but it was a deep fear all the same. And so when I did see the casting call for Virgin Island, I recognised that I probably needed to do something drastic. I don’t often get very far with women and I wanted to make sure that next time I was in such a position, I wouldn’t have this self-imposed brick wall to run into again.

Was I scared about opening myself up to the world about this embarrassing problem? Absolutely. Although I’ve long been fairly open about my dating struggles, my virginity was not something I’d discussed or even acknowledged with most of my friends and family, let alone random strangers. Suddenly, my intimacy struggles would be broadcast for the entire world to see, and I imagine some people will give me the Groundskeeper Willie treatment and never see me in the same way again.

Ultimately, I decided it was worth the risk. If nothing else, I’d get to experience some therapy I wouldn’t otherwise have access to and at least get a free break to a beautiful Mediterranean island out of it. I’ve always (through choice) lived a fairly boring life, and this would be the one wild thing I would throw myself into.

The first person I told was my mother, shortly after my initial informal interview with the casting director. This came as quite of a shock to her, and she openly admitted that she never thought someone like me would sign up for such an experience. She was nonetheless supportive, as were the select few other friends and family I told as my participation in this endeavour went from a mere possibility to a daunting reality.

For what it’s worth, the selection process was incredibly thorough, and I cannot fault Channel 4 or anyone else involved with the production of this programme in the way this sensitive matter was handled. I also met 11 other amazing people on this retreat and we still remain good friends a year on.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the rise of dating apps and social media, adult virgins in their 20s and early 30s are becoming increasingly common. Prime age adults are both more connected and yet paradoxically more isolated from one another than they’ve ever been. If this show helps to clear even a fraction of the stigma associated with being an adult virgin, it’ll have all been worth it. Even if it doesn’t, I know I got a lot out of it, and I don’t regret taking part at all.

I’ll probably write more on the experience itself but for now, I wanted to offer an explanation of sorts as to why I decided to take part in such a daring social experiment.

Image: Channel 4