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In the spring of 2012, a new show debuted on MTV.
Savage U was the quintessential scripted 30-minute sex-centric program; it was meant to be hailed in the likes of Made, True Life and Next. The premise was simple: Renowned sex columnist Dan Savage would travel to U.S. colleges and talk to students about their sex and relationship problems, sort of like a Savage Love column boiled down into four-minute conversations. Instead of getting to hide behind the anonymity of "Can't Personally Overlook Selfishness," or something, the people asking questions would be revealed for all of America to watch.
It was canceled after one season. But not before it ruined my life for a second. If you attend Dan Savage's Hump! Film Festival, featuring amateur pornography, this weekend at Revolution Hall, think about how savage Dan really is when he exploits people's sexual experiences, or at least mine.
Savage shamed me for being a virgin. It wasn't cool then, and it's not cool now.
I first heard of his TV show in fall of my freshman year of college, when a white sheet of paper emblazoned with the iconic MTV logo caught my eye as I passed a bulletin board.
"A new show to be shot at the University of Oregon. Got a relationship story? Be featured on Savage U."
Like most freshmen in 2011, I was bored, lost and a fan of the YOLO mentality featured in Drake's recently released "The Motto." I also sort of had a story.
My high school boyfriend was gay. I was worried something must be wrong with me and thought it might happen again. (The simplest fix would have been dropping my theater major.)
I emailed the show, quickly getting a response to set up a time for a phone call. The next day, I went to the basement of my dorm building and told the show about my ex-boyfriend and my intrinsic love for boys who like boys.
I think I got picked because I was one of four people who actually called, but I was informed I would be featured on the show. I was sent a contract I didn't read, because #YOLO, remember? Two weeks later, the day after Halloween, I met Dan Savage—almost five years ago to this day.
He and a large crew of producers coached me to pretend to look at my phone and look up to see Savage and his peppy wing woman Lauren Hutchinson—her Twitter bio still says she's co-hosting Savage U. After about five takes of this, I told my story.
"How can I keep this from happening again?" I asked, playing the role of a naive 18-year-old girl. At first, Savage's advice was almost poignant, albeit straight-washed. He talked about how part of why we need to create a world more accepting of people who are gay is because of how it hurts people who are straight, citing examples of men who leave their wives after years of marriage.
He also said if a guy doesn't want to perform cunnilingus, that's a red flag.
Here's where I hate MTV.
"I don't know, I haven't done it," I mumbled.
Here's where every producer turns into a meerkat.
"Wait—are you a virgin?"
"Yeah…" I said.
At this point, being a virgin was my biggest insecurity. I hated talking about it. I felt that no other decision in my life was (a) more personal, or (b) more policed. If you had had sex, you told people it was because you were drunk or it was your first love. And if you hadn't had sex, well, you also needed a reason for that.
"I'm just waiting for it to mean something."
This is the justification I had perfected. Plus the fact that I very much wanted to be comfortable enough to play "A Comet Appears" by the Shins (#2011), but you get what you can. It wasn't based on religion. It wasn't because nobody had wanted to have sex with me. I felt like nobody could argue with wanting sex to mean something. The conversation thankfully turned back to my original problem, and the segment ended soon after.
I didn't think much about the interview until an MTV producer called me a few months later. She said updates were needed from everyone who was on the show to construct blurbs at the end of the episode. I told her I was having fun in college and dating straight guys.
A month later, crowded on my twin bed in my dorm with the friends I had made in the past six months, we eagerly watched Episode 8 of Savage U: Oregon.
There I was, on MTV, wearing a cardigan and talking to Savage. Two minutes later, I was mumbling that I didn't know what cunnilingus is. Five seconds later, I revealed that I was a virgin on national television. How could they have chosen that?
It was 20 seconds of a 20-minute interview!
I kind of froze.
My friends weighed in: "It's not a big deal." "Soph, it was only one part of the whole thing, nobody cares." "At least you weren't the girl who talked about feeling scared to masturbate because she pees."
This is fine, I thought, like that little dog wearing the hat and drinking coffee in that meme. Besides, who's even watching? Certainly nobody I'll ever want to have sex with. We continued watching the episode only to see my face pop up again as the show listed our personal updates.
A yellow blurb in trademark bubbly font popped up: "Sophia is trusting her gut and honing her gaydar," it read.
OK—funny and true! Then the next line popped up.
"She is still a virgin."
One friend burst out laughing and had to leave the room. Both my onscreen face and real face froze. My mom texted me: "I'm proud of you!"
Fuuuuuck.
I had never mentioned my virginity in the follow-up conversation. MTV had no idea if this was true or not. I had become one of the contestants I used to laugh at as a 14-year-old watching Next, Room Raiders and Date My Mom. What suckers, I used to think. Now, I was one of them.
The worst part was that I still was a virgin (yeah, I know)—but that's not the point, because even now, I'm immortalized as a virgin on MTV. For my entire life, I will be "still a virgin."
I actually didn't lose my virginity until two years later. And the confusing part is, I think Dan Savage could've played a part in that finally happening.
I met a guy a few months after the episode aired. We were at a party.
"Hey, I saw your MTV episode," he said. "And I thought, 'She is the most sought-after girl in America. She's not giving it up to some asshole.'"
Damn, that was a good line. A year and a half later, we did have sex.
I was 21, which always felt late—which MTV and all popular media told me was late, embarrassing and worthy of making fun of on national TV. There were no candles and "A Comet Appears" wasn't playing. But it was still awesome.
After it happened, I had a "Fuck You Dan Savage" party. I watched the episode again. Now, I laugh at it all, and the ending is my favorite part. I'm just like this infinite virgin, trapped in this bizarro world where you can make fun of people for being 18 and not having sex yet.
GO: Dan Savage's Hump! Film Festival is at Revolution Hall, 1300 SE Stark St., on Thursday-Saturday, Nov. 3-5, and Friday-Saturday, Nov. 11-12. $25. More information at humpfilmfest.com.
Willamette Week