I was a late bloomer; I didn't start having sex until I was 18, and even then I was pretty diffident and ignorant, at least in comparison to some of my friends. At one point, I got a sore on the inside of my mouth and panicked, thinking it was some venereal disease (this was a pre-AIDS era; herpes was the big worry when I was a teen). A friend told me, "This is what you do-- take ketchup or Russian salad dressing and put it on the sore; if it hurts, it's only a cankersore. If it doesn't hurt, then you have something to worry about." I was still living with my parents at the time, so I snuck into the kitchen, surreptitiously applied a liberal quantity of Heinz to the wound, and gasped out, "Thank God!" at the wonderful pain I suddenly experienced. My mother, of course, happened to pick that moment to walk into the kitchen to ask, "What in the hell is the matter with you?" I had another friend who was extremely active sexually during his teens. He was good-looking enough to attract a sufficient quantity of legitimate girlfriends but he also had a taste for prostitutes (a taste I never could fathom; to each their own, I suppose, but what could be erotic about being with someone who assuredly couldn't care less about you personally, may even hate men in general and you in particular, and has probably been with 20 men that day already and it isn't even noon yet?). At one point, he began suffering from an alarming "drip", didn't want to tell his parents about it, and had me drive him over to the VD clinic in an area of Paterson, NJ, that looked like Berlin at the end of World War II. Again, this was about a year before anyone, gay or straight, had ever heard of AIDS, so his worry wasn't about that. I remember the clinic was packed; you couldn't have fit another person into the waiting room with a shoe-horn. Some of the women who were waiting were quite attractive, but, remembering what they were there for, I decided that it wasn't the appropriate time or place for me to try out my skills as a lothario. I still remember one guy walking out of the doctor's office. His friend asked him, "Well, what's the verdict?" The guy replied, "Ah, shit, I got the clap again." As did my friend, who, in retrospect, was extremely lucky he didn't get AIDS. I sometimes find myself wondering how many of the people I saw that day in the Paterson clinic are still alive, how many died premature deaths because of reckless sexual behavior? Or, maybe like my friend, they educated themselves, began to behave with some degree of restraint and responsibility, and are still among the living. Several people I knew in high school did get AIDS at the same time when that disease first started getting publicity, but it was because of a shared heroin needle, not sexual activity. One of the guys decided to give himself a hot shot and end his ordeal early.

Just a thought. If the majority of teens are sexually active, why do almost all the teenagers who come on this site claim to be virgins?

Further, as someone who makes part of their living doing research, I'm curious as to the provenance of the stats listed here. Frankly, this one, about sexually activity always gives me a smile, because I remember filling out some questionaire from the government when I was in grade 10 or 11. One of the questions asked was about sexual activity, and of course nobody at that age is going to admit they aren't experienced, so everyone was a teenage lothario. I always wonder if these stats are generated by some equally effective means.

And considering that the majority of teens ARE sexually active-that's a lot of people being infected each year. That's such a scary thought!

Proof that these half-wits aren't ready yet.