Sat in a dark screening room holding a bingo card with phrases on it such as, ‘What’s P in V?’, and ‘The most white-meat virgin’, I expected to spend my evening giggling immaturely over innuendos and awkward sexual encounters.
Instead, I found myself incredibly, genuinely moved.
In a few days’ time, Virgin Island, one of the Channel 4’s most talked-about shows of 2025, is back for season 2.
The premise is exactly as it sounds: 12 people who’ve never had sex arrive on an island to work on their intimacy issues in the hope that eventually they’ll feel comfortable enough to do the deed, either during this experience, or one day in the future.
They’re looked after by a team of sex therapists, who take a very hands-on approach with their work. And I do mean that in the literal sense.
To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web
browser that
supports HTML5
video
These specialists believe that in order to help people feel more comfortable having physical contact with others, they need to put that into practice with professionals who know what they’re doing.
Some of the experts are ‘surrogate partner therapists’, who are qualified to have sex with the participants as part of their work, as well as ‘sexological bodyworkers’. And yes, this is legal.
The two main therapists on the island are Dr Danielle Harel and Celeste Hirschmann, who together created the ‘Somatica Method’, described as ‘an experiential approach that combines emotional connection with practical tools to build confidence, communication and intimacy’.
When Virgin Island was first announced last year, I had my reservations. I feared that the TV show could take advantage of individuals who are already vulnerable, broadcasting their biggest insecurities for the whole nation to see.
Admittedly, I didn’t watch the first season in full, but what I heard from viewers and critics surprised me. This apparently wasn’t the shock-value show that many expected.
While some did still argue that they found it ‘exploitative’, others called it ‘deeply authentic’ and ‘surprisingly touching’, no pun intended.
For the second go around, the idea that the cast members don’t know what they’re signing up for carries less weight.
This time, they’ve seen season one, they know the conversation it stirred up, and they understand what the process entails to a far greater degree.
But of course, no one could fully prepare them for the soul-baring journey that they were about to embark on.
Certain members of the group stood out to me the most, as I watched the first episode of the new season in an audience of fellow journalists and participants. One of them was Joy, an event coordinator from Falmouth.
Joy explained that she suffers from vaginismus, a condition that causes her extreme pain when she tries to insert anything into her vagina. Not only does this prevent her from having sex, but it also means she can’t use tampons, nor can she even have a smear test.
It was the same condition that last season’s Pia also suffers from.
But Joy’s struggles are not solely physical. She tells the camera and a therapist that she has a ‘sexual side’ that she wants to let out, but she’s also dealing with huge amounts of religious shame, so much so that at one point, she thought that God had caused her vaginismus to prevent her from having sex.
During the first exercise, pairs sat in front of the group, gently touching each other on areas of the body like the hands and arms to practise physical intimacy. My heart went out to Joy as she sat there in floods of tears, unable to bring herself to participate.
There’s Alex, a 28-year-old data analyst from Exeter who has such debilitating performance anxiety and puts so much pressure on himself to be perfect that he’s scared about not being able to get an erection. Bertie, a 24-year-old event volunteer from Taunton, feels so socially awkward that he can barely maintain eye contact for a second.
Ellen, a childcare practitioner from Haywards Heath, feels gutted to be a virgin at 35, and applied to star after watching season one.
‘I’d felt alone and embarrassed about my anxiety around sex and intimacy, and I wanted support to build confidence in my sexuality and finally feel comfortable giving and receiving pleasure,’ she revealed.
And that, in a nutshell, is why my view on Virgin Island has changed. Controversial it may be, there’s no denying the impact it’s made on audiences watching at home. The virgins who go on the show are not weird, despite feeling that way – so many of their issues are common, but they’re just treated as taboo by society and not spoken about enough.
As the sex therapists explained at the screening, many who struggle in secret have no idea that they don’t have to, that there is help out there available to them.
Even if some of the people watching at home can’t relate to the hardship of wanting to be sexually active but not knowing how to get there, they might see themselves represented through other insecurities that are addressed on the programme, such as body image issues or not feeling as though they’re enough.
If Virgin Island can make people feel seen or less alone, all the while spreading important messages of consent and empowerment, then I’m all for it.
Virgin Island season 2 premieres on Monday April 27 at 9pm on Channel 4.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk.
Share your views in the comments below.