@ossobuco,
By virtue of my strange background, I was a late virgin. I didn't really date until university, when the first guy who kissed me kissed like a red snapper (oh, no, is that what kissing is?), and then ignored me at the Rose Bowl, when I knew as much about football as he did, (and I was as much pre med as he was) talking instead to his fraternity pal. I threw an osso fit. No sex, egads, much less romance. Years later, I suppose I hope he's okay. But that was a primer for my not taking guff or fish lips.
Second fellow was not just thoughtful but very sharp, and probably still is. He taught me all about romance, including poems in chemistry class, and I might have never been so happy. I've never been sorry about any of our time. We broke up over religion, me being the residually religious one (now ironic). He married the woman after me, a better fit for him, much as I loved him then.
The thing is, I don't know that I might have been that blown away happy if I had been fooling around since age twelve. This first real romantic experience was just after I turned twenty one. The conversations - all part of our developing who we were as adults. The sex was joy. Loss of virginity, joy.
I'm glad that all happened then, and not when I was fourteen.
Twenty one, pushing it, even then, but those were odd times in my environment.
Which doesn't put me on the side of the Abstinence brigade. More some putting off.
But I'll say arm preteens with information and be there to (be square) help.