Memo to Britney: Shut Up or Put Out

Enough of the coy sex talk. Britney Spears needs to shut up or put up.

I will never forget the moment I first saw Madonna's "Like a Virgin" video. I was standing in front of the TV eating after-school cookies, swaying on one hip, watching Channel 50's Top Ten Hitz out of Detroit. I was sixteen and hadn't been a virgin for about ten weeks, something I was not entirely proud of. Madonna would've been twenty-five years old, and probably hadn't been a virgin for ten years, something she clearly was quite proud of. Watching her writhe around in that gondola definitely contributed to a little erosion in my Catholic shame. After all, I hadn't done anything wrong in the back of the Gremlin, behind Mr. Kapassi's granary, had I? It felt good, otherwise why did I want to keep doing it? (Again and again and again ...)

It's hard to remember a time when Madonna's sexual antics would generate post-doctoral essays, op-ed columns, and long scholarly treatises by the likes of Camille Paglia and Andrea Dworkin. Compare it to the current buzz about Britney Spears' precarious virginity. It's largely relegated to celebrity Web gossip, women's magazines and giggling chat-line speculation. The past few months have seen a resurgence of is-she-or-isn't-she speculation, much of it fed by Britney herself. Recently the New York Post quoted some yahoo who supposedly overheard Brit bragging about buying her boyfriend a pair of handcuffs and having "amazing sex," and it was a big story. Ditto when she reportedly told German journalists that "chocolate is better than an orgasm."

Such coyness knows more reputable bounds: in an Elle magazine interview last summer, Britney claimed that Sarah Jessica Parker's Sex and the City character was "just like her" and said, "what they talk about on that show is so true." (Oh, and which episode would be your favorite, Brit? The one about analingus, or the one with the funky-spunk subplot?) Apparently after being reminded that she has basically sold the world on her virginity (in much the way she was reminded that, as a Pepsi spokesperson, she really shouldn't be photographed drinking Coke), Britney finally complained, "I wish I hadn't said anything at all."

That makes two of us.

Who cares whether Britney's getting any? Journalists, primarily, because journalists hate being lied to. (Britney's talking out of two sides of her mouth, and the urge to sew the lying side shut is hard to quell.) Her fans, secondly, and the parents with whom they still live. After all, they're twelve years old. Nobody wants to picture them having sex (almost nobody), though recent studies would suggest that many of them are, or heading that way. Her handlers know if Britney owned up to her sexuality, mounted the stage (if you will), and declared that sex with Justin was rocking her world, there'd be a sick baby boom in backwater Florida, and some silly lawsuits would result.

I exaggerate, but we used to blame Madonna for stirring sexual longing. The wonderful thing about Madonna is that she was too busy hustling Puerto Rican gangbangers to give a shit. Her fans were big girls. Britney and her handlers, however, care too much about her theoretical influence, because she supposedly holds powerful sway over pre-pubescent minds -- children, really. I feel sorry for her.

Unlike Madonna, whose fans grew up alongside her, Britney is forced to charm a fresh batch of preadolescents with each new album. Her eponymous third album is filled with disingenous ballads like "Overprotected" and "Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman" (uh, last I checked, a twenty-year-old was a woman). Ms. Spears obviously wants credibility with an older set of fans, and who can blame her? Imagine being in concert, gyrating to the beat of your own drum machine, only to be left spent and sweaty amongst a crowd of ... children. Ewww. But Britney's going to have to put up or shut up about her virginity before she can graduate to the next level of fandom, because girls don't want to feel bad about having sex.