The way I see it, labels provide parameters and a good gauge of emotional investment. So often, people remain tight-lipped about what they’re actually feeling. It’s like a competition for who can be the most casual, or care the least. So, it’s ridiculously difficult to gauge whether or not your partner is taking you seriously or really likes you. Thus, the importance of labels. Bear with me.

The talks you have with your partner will vary depending upon your relationship. I personally cannot stand the idea of dating someone for six months and having them still be only your “hookup buddy.” That’s half a year. That’s bullshit. If that’s all they’re keeping you for, they are not taking you seriously. And maybe you’re okay with that, and you want to keep it there. But if you’re emotionally attached, you need to prioritize what you want out of the relationship. I had to watch my friend put her partner’s feelings over her own for months. She wanted to be this relaxed, casual girl for him and, in doing so, she refused to tell him what she actually wanted. If you want something, tell them. Your partner is not a mind reader. When I was three weeks or so into dating my boyfriend, I asked him whether he considered our relationship casual or if he saw it going anywhere. If he said casual, that would have been a bummer, but at least I would have known and I would have been able to behave appropriately. That is the preliminary label you need to jump over. Know what they want out of your relationship so you don’t moon over them pointlessly.

Later comes the exclusive/girlfriend line dance. After a loud and heated debate with a pack of dudes, I think I have a fair idea of the struggle between these terms. When deciding whether to remain exclusive or making their partner a girlfriend, the guys saw it as a pointless transition. It wouldn’t change anything; they already considered their partners at the level of girlfriend and didn’t understand the difference in connotation. However, the way I view it is like this: a girl you’re exclusive with is certainly close to girlfriend status. But being a girlfriend signifies that you are ready to open yourself up emotionally. Exclusive means you don’t have to worry about whether they’re dipping their chip into someone else’s dip or not. But girlfriend means that they’ll tell you about their childhood, their disappointments, their secrets and the extent of their feelings for you. It’s taking the next emotional step. And if there really is no difference, what’s holding you back from just saying it? If nothing really changes, what’s the problem? It will make them happier and there is the opportunity for more emotional satisfaction. I’m not the kind of person who will wait around months just to be a slam piece, and neither should you. Take yourself seriously and tell others what you want from your romantic endeavors or accept that it will sit still as long as you let it. Deuces, and happy humping!

Hayley E. ain’t no holla’ back girl.

A version of this article appeared on page 12 of the Wednesday, May 22, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

Coworkers

Hers: Tread carefully here, fellow humper. Sure, you might run into that hunky hulk in the workplace, but odds are that your choice of lover from such an enclosed setting will be risqué, unnecessary and reputation-ruining. Kudos to you if the office adventure blossoms into a beatific bond, but try to steer away from potential gossip and awkward encounters in a place in which you wish to excel professionally.

His: Ask yourself one question: Is there a future for you where you’re working? If yes, you two are probably going to be seeing each other everyday for years to come, so don’t get sensual. But if you’re just working at the local McDonald’s while you’re home for summer, and she’s giving you the signs … ain’t nothing wrong with a little bump ‘n grind.

Friends

Hers: Ah, this one can get sticky. Have a feel — actually, have a good grope — for your pal’s “friends with benefits” mindset. Set guidelines. Unless you don’t give a flying fuck how your relationship with the amorous amigo turns out post-naughtiness, then be sure you differentiate emotional intimacy from skin-timacy. Have fun, but know what you want. Sometimes seeing the banging buddy get along well with your friends and family can shoot you straight into a world of feelings and attachment. And that, my reader, is when the stickiness doesn’t wash off.

His: If she’s close enough to know your family dog’s name is Harvey Dent, you would have to gamble your friendship on whether or not you two will work as a couple. Chances are you will not be able to have casual sex with that kind of pre-existing emotional attachment; you’ll either become a great couple or just an awkward pair of people who have now seen each other naked and don’t know how to feel about it.

First Date

Hers: The questions I would ask are: “How horny are you?” and “How inhumanly irresistible is your date?” I must admit that I’ve committed the first date love-makin’ once before. The relationship that ensued was beautiful, but the physicality diluted the mental connection we shared. So let’s make this a no-no. If you want that bod, just ask for the bod. If you can’t get that bod, then that’s not my problem.

His: Unless you’re 2 Chainz and you “love bad bitches” and that’s your “fuckin’ problem,” you’ll most likely agree that it’s risky to light the candles and whip out the Marvin Gaye on day one for a couple of reasons.

1. Sleaze factor: You can’t help but wonder that if she’s ready for me on day one, who else is getting this kind of treatment?

2. The Natural Order: It’s much easier to become friends before the first hump than it is to try to go back and get to know each other afterwards. You might feel satisfied, but you’ll probably never know if she shares your love for Batman.

Just think if you’re in it for tonight or tomorrow.

Party

Hers: For me, kissing competency is a huge turn on or off factor. Slobber fest in my mouth? Good bye and good riddance. But for the others who don’t predestine their party sexcapades by an oral ultimatum, I say, “Why not?” Check for lumps and sores, make sure the condom is on, and let your inner beast free.

His: It’s rare to hear people say, “thank god for what I did last night” after a sloppy hookup in I.V. Don’t ruin your reputation over a drunken, possibly infectious and probably terrible one-nighter. Unless you’re just out looking for a crazy night and sure that you won’t be leaving with any new diseases, I say keep it safely stowed. That is, of course, unless you’re 2 Chainz.

Exes

Hers: There’s a reason why you two broke up in the first place. Hold firm and demand some respect for yourself; there are plenty of other (better) fish in the sea. Unless you both have engaged in major self-improvement, chances are that if the relationship didn’t work the first time, it won’t work the second. But if you’re not trying to get back at what you let go and all you want is a thrustin’ thrill, just keep in mind that he’s filling you now, but he don’t fulfill you.

His: Think of yourself and your ex as pieces of silly putty. No matter how many times you separate, as soon as you touch each other new strings of connected putty are going to try to hold you two together. Unless you definitely want to get back together, or you love a dramatic lifestyle, don’t mix your putty with putties of the past.

Best Friends’ Exes

Hers: I see no problem in this. If you’ve got the feels for your homie’s ex — and these are real feels, mind you — then go for it. Communicate with your bestie, gauge her reactions, be sensitive toward her thoughts and if the green’s a-go, you press that gas pedal. As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. It wouldn’t be fair to discriminate against the treasure based on who it first belonged to, now would it?

His: If you’ve got an itch that nothing but your best friend‘s ex can scratch, talk to your friend, think about the awkwardness and finally consider the fact that your best friend spent a good deal of time riding that very same rollercoaster that you’re now waiting in line for. Hopefully by the time you’ve pondered these things, you’ll have realized that it is just a god-awful idea. If you’re still like “Meh, I bet it’d be just fine,” you’re ignorant. Don’t be stupid.

RPengsta and Emile Nelson are breakin’ it down, one topic at a time.

Views expressed on the Opinion page do not necessarily reflect those of the Daily Nexus or UCSB. Opinions are submitted primarily by students.

A version of this article appeared on page 12 of the Wednesday, May 15, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

Finding a proper place is perhaps the most important and trying aspect of sex away from home. It has to be an appropriate balance of being risky and concealed. “If you are for sure going to be caught, that’s scary. I doubt I could get it up. But with a little bit of risk, that’s fun,” said one lewd friend to another. I do not recommend the beach. Sure, it sounds romantic, but do you really want sand in your crevices? Just imagine a handful of tiny, salty rocks in your cooch. Sorry ladies, but that sand is not going to blossom into a beautiful pearl one day. That stuff will rub and chafe and cut as your partner pokes your insides. It can lead to infections, and it’s just not cute. What I think you really want from beach sex is to hear the crashing of the waves: que romantico. Below is a comprehensive list of all the places I would recommend …

The Library (Obviously):

This is on everyone’s to-do-him/her list. Let the record show that if you do it in the bathroom where you can lock the doors (ahem, Dylan), it doesn’t count, and I decree your boning null and void. Well, save for the joy of insertion, props to that. It must be an open space, wherein anyone could see your moon-pale ass. Double points if you do it while watching the sunset over your partner’s wobbling shoulder (high-fives self).

The Park:

As I said, the beach is a cliché and can lead to some wicked chafing. Instead, try one of Isla Vista’s many poorly-lit parks. Maybe bring a blanket and “enjoy the cool night air.” Or, even better, the bluffs. Not only will it be private (in case the thought of being caught makes you too nervous to perform) but you can listen to the waves intermingle with your partner’s erratic breathing. Let me just add, however, that a confidant of mine recommended not to do it on the bench by Window-to-the-Sea. You think it’s a good idea, but it’s not.

The Roof:

Specifically, the tops of school buildings. Similar to the thrill of library sex, you can make the double-backed beast atop the halls of academia with less of a risk and more of a note of novelty. This may be the top of the Life Sciences building, the top of HSSB or any other building that you can get-it-on-top-of.

Perhaps more specific to my freshman frolickers, try behind San Miguetto, on the side facing Manzanita. Outside the stairway on that side of the building, there is a pocket blocked from external view that you can fiddle in. Just don’t all go at once. Crazy kids.

Campus Point:

Bitches love Campus Point.

Hayley E. thinks “private” parts are overrated; get ’er done like everybody could be watching.

 A version of this article appeared on page 12 of the Wednesday, May 8, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

I’m sure that I sound plain stupid to the majority of you (unless you’re of the male gender, in which case I bet you’re just as stoked as I am), but give me a minute and listen to what I mean before you judge my process. I, being a heterosexual man, love women, beer and Batman and the combination of these three things will be what I live for until the day I die, but that’s not what I’m trying to get at here. Although these three steps seem like a joke, they each attack central problems that plague relationships: insecurity, selfishness and seriousness. If you give yourself over to my system for just one week, you’re in for a closer, more intimate and much, MUCH more pleasurable experience with your man-friend. So just hear me out …

Part 1: Show Up Naked.

When you’re trying to get your boy all hot n’ bothered, you need to leave both your insecurity and, if he’s lucky enough, your clothes at the door.

There are few things sexier than a girl who is brave enough to take some control in a relationship. This means saying what you like, how you like it, when you like it, where you like it and not being afraid to be the initiator and get nasty-specific with your boy.

Sexy-sneak-attack him next time he walks in the door: put on some of his favorite lingerie, tackle him onto your bed (counter, table, couch, floor — the list goes on), proceed to take off said lingerie and then do all those things that you said you’d save for his birthday. He’ll be living the dream, and I bet you he’ll do his best to make sure you feel the same.

Then, when it comes time for him to send you to Pleasureville, tell him if all he’s doing is bouncing around like a kid in a Jolly Jump. I promise you that it’s better to say in the moment, “That’s not doing anything for me; put your back into it.” If you wait for him to look up one time and see you staring blank-faced at the clock, counting minutes while he’s busy thinking he’s blowing your mind (sore subject), you’re only losing out on your own pleasure and destroying his manhood.

What I’m trying to say is you need to be completely naked in each sense of the word every time you show up to play with your man, or it will definitely be embarrassing for one of you, probably him. A combination of insecurity and shame does not make a night one to remember, for the right reasons at least.

Part 2: Bring Beer.

Although beer is the golden blood of happiness and does actually make the world go round, I don’t mean that you can make him happy just by bringing him beer (certainly helps, though). On this one I mean you need to think about what you bring to the table when push comes to shove. If you’re not doing the pushing or the shoving, you need to seriously reevaluate your sexy-time tactics.

As much as guys like to see a lady squeal, it’s not always enough to go home thinking “yeaaa I bet she feels good” while armies of ninjas (infamously known as blue balls) slash up your downstairs business. I don’t mean to say that you should never ever let your man go home unfinished, but please, if you’re in a sexual relationship, don’t let his little friend’s satisfaction fall to the wayside on a regular basis.

Basically, take into consideration that guys need to feel like they’re being taken care of — not babied, but taken care of.

Part 3: Batman.

Remember his fantasies. Chances are that your boy-toy is not Christian Grey and does not dream of tying you to a telephone post while using some medieval torture device to get off, but if Mr. Grey is actually your man, then please disregard this section.

Every single boy has dreams of different freaky ways he wishes he could get it on and most of them are harmless and exciting. The problem is that far too often, these fantasies are disregarded because the act itself is “good enough.” I’m here to tell you that if you let him wear his Batman mask and talk in the Dark Knight’s voice as he explores your Batcave with his Batmobile, you will have given that man a memory to be cherished until the end of time.

All I want to say on this one is, take his fantasies into consideration next time you are trying to enjoy yourselves, and I’m sure he’ll remember it the next time he has the opportunity to return the favor.

Men are fairly simple creatures; take care of them and they’ll take care of you. Just remember, ladies, trashy has the word “trash” in it for a reason. Keep it classy until the door closes.

Emile Nelson will send your Batgirl suit to the dry cleaners. No starch needed.

A version of this article appeared on page 8 of the Wednesday, May 1, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

If you are a man, you may wonder: when should I trim the ball-fro? A rule of thumb: If you’re going to show it, mow it. Your most sensual apex should be a metaphorical front lawn. Don’t be the scary man down the street whose home is lost in the undergrowth. The one that requires the local EMTs to hack down the grass with a machete to cart out your critically sex-starved body … OK, I’ll admit I got carried away with that metaphor. Just remember you want the yard to look nice.

I recommend having your crotch trimmed. If you are a generally hairy guy, don’t shave it. Imagine going to the zoo and seeing a gorilla. Now imagine that gorilla has crudely shaved only its genitalia. Take that horror and ponder it for a moment. A trim will suffice.

As for the rest of it, I’d say, anywhere you want licked should be shaved. Balls and shaft should be devoid of hair. If you get random hairs growing on your dick, pluck that stick. I do not want a hair dislodging itself at the back of my throat. It will tickle and perturb. Just as you wouldn’t get hot watching your cat cough up a hairball, you won’t enjoy my deep human suffering at the hands of your misgrooming. If you are well-maintained, your options for fellatio open up. A girl may be more eager to take your sack of goodies into her oral cave of wonders if it doesn’t result in having wet hair in her mouth. Yes. I hope you are as disgusted as I was while writing that sentence. Wet hair.

Now, there may be some discomfort when the hair returns if you opt to shave. When it grows back it will prickle and tickle your sensitive giblets. Remember, waxing will mean a) that you won’t have to maintain it for at least a month and b) it will grow back thinner and softer than before. It is a choice only you can make. Choose wisely.

If you do opt to shave, I recommend the proper set of tools: a good razor dedicated solely to your bits. There is something dehumanizing about shaving your face with a razor that has a pubic hair on it. If you want to be well-prepared, buy Coochy Cream (*insert rambling dialogue by spokesperson of Coochy Cream*). This is a shaving cream dedicated solely to handling your nether-lands. It permits you to shave against the grain which may be easier and it limits shave bumps. Consider it a sexual investment, my friend.

Remember, not everyone cares about this stuff. You can adjust according to your partner. Perhaps you’ll land someone who likes the springyness of your bush and has made peace with the initial digging that must occur.

And ladies, though you are generally better versed in this song and dance, remember that the same rules apply. At the very least, you should maintain your bikini line. Communication is key, people. If you want it from your partner, you need to ask, tactfully. I recommend one of two options that work for me. You can: A) ask if they want something like that from you. It opens the door and makes it reciprocal. “Hey, what are your preferences for how I keep it down there? Do you want it shaved? You do? OK, would you mind doing the same for me?” Or B) “Hey, I think it would be really sexy if you were bare down there …” Mention it offhandedly, flirtatiously. “Imagine all the things we could do …”

And so, my little horny toads, I leave you with this applicable quote from one of my role models, Dr. Evil of Austin Powers: “There’s nothing quite like a shorn scrotum … It’s breathtaking … I suggest you try it!”

Hayley E. has better things to do than look for a needle in a haystack.

A version of this article appeared on page 16 of the Wednesday, April 24, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

I’ve railed against the concept of binaries in thinking about sexuality before. This approach remains a sore subject for me, which is why I think it’s important to take a closer look at how people come to adopt the binary-driven concepts that color our generation’s zeitgeist. I often wonder how people look at the sheer complexity of our world and see any sort of binary. How people are presented with the vast proverbial “gray area” that permeates our Earth, the almost complete lack of “black and white” answers to anything, and still manage to exhibit racism, homophobia, transphobia or what have you, is a mystery to me.

In fact, the more I study biology, the more I see this “proverbial grayness” present itself in the very building blocks that make up what we know about life. Nothing in biology (at least that I’ve studied so far) amounts to a pure black and white dichotomy. Nothing I’ve studied — from gene interactions to protein-binding events and metabolic pathways — has ever seemed to be a “one or the other” sort of interaction. Individual proteins bind fleetingly fast and at varying strengths; gene regulations occur at tiny timescales and regulate miniscule protein concentrations according to a vast array of environmental factors; metabolic pathways can involve hundreds, if not thousands, of intermediate molecules whose individual concentrations are controlled highly effectively in tandem, and again, at ridiculously small timescales. Thousands of chemical interactions within the body are paired with a thousand more, and those thousands are coupled with yet more. The body is in constant flux, and during development there are so many factors that affect how an organism will grow, learn and interact with the world around it.

In light of life’s complexities, it’s shocking that anybody would think so deterministically about anything regarding human psychology. Sexuality and the huge variance that can be seen in human sexual preferences are both results of the intricacy of human development.

As small children we are constantly told that everyone is a unique and special snowflake and that no two people in the world are ever exactly the same. Well, if everyone is as special and unique as they say, then it really shouldn’t be surprising that the special snowflake you met at that party last weekend can only reach orgasm if she licks another snowflake’s eyeball at climax (it’s called “oculingus,” look it up). If you’ve never heard of oculingus, it’s likely because uncommon and “weird” sexualities get swept under the rug. Just as we don’t berate people for liking the color pink, we shouldn’t make pariahs out of people who do things in the bedroom that we’ve never heard of.

In researching for my articles I spend all too much time on the internet, and in doing so, I get to read a whole lot of sex columns and bedroom horror stories. Now, reading sex stories from strangers on the internet certainly doesn’t give me a Ph.D. in developmental psychology, nor does it make me a “sexpert.” But it does give me just enough perspective to realize that the variance between peoples’ sex lives and tastes is not only fascinating but beautiful and should be free to be explored by all.

I’m not a neurobiologist (yet) but in the humble opinion of this biology student-turned-opinion writer, it will be through the study and understanding of neural development that we will ultimately come to know just how complex we are as humans.

The Obama administration’s decision to invest in the mapping of the human connectome, a feat dubbed “The next great American project,” is sure to yield many answers to fundamental questions about the brain. I think one of these fundamental answers will concern the origin of human sexuality. Ultimately, though, what a roadmap of the human brain will show us is that there are so many different paths to reach the end goal of becoming a grown human being. Thus the idea of treating someone differently because they have sex with other dudes, like dressing in drag or play to a different gender than their physical appearance suggests will seem ludicrous.

I like to end with calls to action, so I encourage you all to do two things. First, don’t be afraid to explore your own sexualities. Second, don’t be afraid to explore other peoples’, either. You might think it’s weird at first, but when your new partner asks you to lower yourself into that swing for the first time, please don’t forget the ball-gag.

Luc Gendrot embraces, never erases, his computer’s browsing history.

A version of this article appeared on page 12 of the Wednesday, April 17, 2012 print edition of the Nexus.

It wasn’t written like this, but that’s what the headline looked like to me when my eyes saw it peeking out from the insides of my housemate’s Cosmopolitan. Now, let’s be honest. The normal realists and the cautious commoners would look upon that magazine headline and laugh, scoff and toss the floppy fuck away. But not I. I fell for it.

As expected, it wasn’t helpful, but I did come across this statistic: “30 percent of girls experience orgasms during actual intercourse.” My first thought was, “Kudos to the 30.” And then, “Shit. Welcome to the 70 percent, love.”

I know a good portion of girls out there can reach that body-wracking high note of physical euphoria as their man plunges in and out of their wet and willing love hole. And then, yes, some may be blessed with that practiced partner or just a very patient lover who can stroke or lick them to satisfaction. But the rest of us 70 percent-ers (unlucky souls who have to deal with a steep and promising build-up, only to come to the stomach-dropping realization that no, we won’t be getting off tonight) know that once he is done, the whole sex session is done.

It’d be nice to say that there really shouldn’t be any reason as to why 70 percent of women don’t reach orgasms during their sex-ventures, but that would be a lie. Of course there are reasons, and I’m going to break some down for you:

1. Girls take much longer to orgasm. Come on, we all know this. Unless the lady pal sports some seriously sensitive sensors, which could, mind you, be both a blessing and a curse, the man must be mentally prepared to spend anywhere from 10 to 30 to 60 minutes on their woman, depending on multiple factors such as the guy’s skill, the girl’s arousability and the level of communication. It’s an investment, yes, but hey, it’s worth it. (Although, I’d like to note that when you please your women, males—and females!—of this planet, they are much more likely to reciprocate your well-spent time and effort. And that could mean many, many things.)

2. Now I’m not saying this applies to all women, but quite a few of them won’t speak their minds. Maybe it’s due to societal pressure or expectations. Maybe it’s something fostered from the get-go, from 5th grade education on menstrual cycles to 7th grade sex-ed. Guys are more accepted as the Dora Explorers of their sexual preferences and expression of their sexual needs (ironically, I use a female reference). Why is this the case, especially since a lot of men find it hot when their women tell them what to do or take initiative to show how they turn themselves on, and consequently become hard, ready and very much on fire themselves? But that’s exactly the problem.

3. Here’s why: Many girls are too embarrassed to vocalize their needs, either because a) they don’t want to bruise their man’s ego, b) hell, half of them probably haven’t experimented with themselves enough to know what they like until the guy decides to test it out, and c) you know those grunts and groans and bone-shaking, scream-inducing peaks of passion commonly witnessed in porn, erotica and even romanticized stories from fellow peers? Yeah, they’re usually not accurate. Forget those one-night stands with the fuck-and-flee horndogs; even with regular, well-acquainted lovers, these scenes might still not see the light of day. Nevertheless, girls perceive this to be the norm and, hence, feel scared to admit that they didn’t experience that out-of-this-world sensation. They may feel inadequate; they may think themselves “annoying” and a “sexual hassle” or they may feel “not intense enough.” Regardless, they still aren’t getting that orgasm, and that’s that.

4. And, frankly, if you just want to cut it down to the blunt and bare: it’s mental, and the girl isn’t feeling it now. By that point, sometimes it’s just too plain fucking awkward for the more soft-spoken, or any-spoken for that matter, to explicitly declare “I put two fingers by the side of my clit and move them like I’m playing a piano trill” or “Can you rub your palm on the top and then curl your middle and ringfingers into a u-shape and sort of press there—no wait, there, ah—I mean, no not like that—wait, ugh, stop.” Right. Maybe not.

Of course, there are multiple ways to go about this, and I have yet to perfect this deal myself. First, however, foreplay must not be ignored. Watch some steamy videos, engage in long-desired fantasies, talk dirty. Anything that works because, after all, a good portion of sex is mental. Furthermore, angles matter. It is said that two inches is actually enough to take the girl to her heavenly heights due to the fact that most of her nerves are bundled up toward the entrance of the vagina.

Most often than not, however, the biggest solution to the neglected climax is just forcing yourself to communicate. I hate telling any woman to “man up” because that phrase is atrociously incorrect in more ways than one, but in the figurative sense behind the phrase, yes, toughen up that resolve. Lift up that chin. Life normally won’t hand you gems and jewels in a treasure chest; it just chucks you little poop pellets. Therefore, as is logical, we need to shake off that nervous hesitation and be strong with stating what we want, what we need and what will make us happy.

So, 70 percent, I challenge you. Maybe that “thirst-quenching, tsunami wave-surging” orgasm won’t come right away, but it’s definitely there, lurking on the horizon.

R. Pengsta: Pussy poppin’ her way to the 30 percent.

Views expressed on the Opinion page do not necessarily reflect those of the Daily Nexus or UCSB. Opinions are submitted by primarily by students.

A version of this article appeared on page 11 of the Wednesday, April 10, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

I think porn is the most personal thing people have in relation to their sexual life. Perhaps this is due to the fact that they are not really getting any, but are instead indulging their base desires in secret. Heaven forbid people see what you do in secret. It’s so often associated with deviant behavior. Let’s amend that. It’s just another form of kink, especially if you and an adventurous partner want to have your own personal viewing session.
Many girls seem uncomfortable with porn, which is silly. Maybe this is due to a lack of female advertising on porn websites, among other things. We know that most every guy out there has a substantial porn folder on their computer, hidden under something like, “Dull Trip to Kansas, Totally Not Worth Opening.” I think girls are more worried about what other girls will think, which is also dumb. I personally would rather engage in some scintillating media than have the pristine approval of women everywhere.
It’s important to realize that the porn does not easily translate to the real world. Don’t treat your partner like she’s a pornstar. She will not thank you when you decide you want to copy the bukakke video you were watching last night just because the pornstar seemed enthused. It’s a lie. However, ladies, if you indulge in porn from time to time, it can be a valuable asset in your sex life. If you do decide to emulate things you see in porn, it often goes very well. His eyes will bug out, glazed and delighted, as he flashes back to the vigorous fapping he indulged in the night prior. “Hot damn, she knows what she’s doing,” he will think, in much fewer words (signified by “guh-huuuuuhh”).
If you are comfortable and you have a regular partner, I think it would be healthy to tell them about your preferences, especially if you think it will open doors to things you want to try together. This does not apply to everyone. The type of porn some people watch is not reflective of what they would actually like to do. There is no freaking way I want to try many of the things I have encountered in my porn viewing. So don’t judge yourself or others based on the weird shit they watch. The more you watch and dabble, the more you find out what you like. Naturally, there are some types of porn that deserve thorough judging, which I feel I don’t need to describe.
It’s fun.
I like to think of porn as literature for sex. If you want to learn how to do the Macarena, you look up a YouTube video. If you want to learn how to twerk while on top, you watch porn. It’s academic, goddammit.
Sometimes you hit a dry spell. Instead of becoming a born-again virgin due to a lack of suitors, hit up those naughty pop-ups.
As I’ve said before, I don’t think you should be afraid of sex or your sexuality. So just try it out. I’m not saying abandon real-life sex for your Internet mistress, Betsy Onnerback, but simply familiarize yourself with the different types of sex and sexual interests that are out there. Ultimately, go get ideas, get comfortable, but don’t get a lifestyle.

As you know, my little chickadees, I like to assign you all homework. One night this week, I encourage you to schedule some “me time.” I recommend any of the following websites: pornhub.com, tube8.com, or fucd.com (for the entire compilation of every type of individual interest). Now go, you little horny toads! Play a little pocket pool to NC-17 material. Happy Humping!
Hayley E. has found that the best internet connection is usually on the sixth floor of Davidson.

A version of this article appeared on page 12 of the Wednesday, April 3, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.

There’s something oddly hypnotizing about this action. If two members of the opposite sex are playing a game of tonsil hockey, not an eyelash is batted (unless there is some sort of personal connection to the couple in question). However, when two girls kiss, it often seems to evoke a delightful fascination.

Allow me to illustrate the various points regarding the reasons I enjoy kissing girls:

Girls are soft, pretty and smell nice. It’s really hit or miss with you boys. Some of you are hippies and believe that means you never have to wash your hair. You’re wrong. You may still be pretty, but you probably don’t smell too nice, do you?

I have never had a bad girl-kiss. Well, save for sophomore year when my friend jumped on me while blacked out and banged her teeth into mine. But most times, girls just know how to use the appropriate amount of tongue. Guys, on the other hand, either tongue appropriately or get way too liberal. Less is more, fellas. Seriously. It should be a tease, a light tracing, a “hello” from tongue to tongue, not an all-caps “OH HAY DERE.”

Between girlfriends, there’s an innocent enjoyment to the kiss. There’s no threat, no tongue siege. It’s just kissing for the fun of it.

So go on, ladies, get a little tipsy and goofy with your gal pals and exchange a peck or two. No one takes these things seriously; it’s a form of play. Don’t get so in-your-head about these things.

It is important I specify that I personally don’t condone kissing as a show. If you want to kiss another girl and there happen to be people around, fuck it. But if you’re being that drunk girl who’s doing it with the hopes of making guys stare at you, it will likely work but also make you look immature.

And don’t be that guy. You all know him: He’s the one who goes up to the two girls like, “Hey, shall I join you ladies?” Dude, you will be ignored. Just admire the beauty of the situation and remain silent. You are a man amidst nature, witnessing two unicorns going at it. Don’t disturb the majesty.

Now, on top of all of this, there are, of course, social politics that go into making out with members of the same gender. To cite renowned sexologist Alfred Kinsey, one’s sexuality can be viewed as a point on a sexual gradient rather than confined to a certain category of sexuality. I think we can all appreciate and agree with this statement. Kinsey also found that, along this gradient, females are the more fluid of the two genders. They can be closer to the middle, at times. When girls get drunk and make out, it’s not necessarily because they identify as bisexual. I’ve made out with a fair number of my female friends. Often it’s something close friends do when they reach a certain level of shwasted. I wouldn’t make out with my roommate normally. But throw some booze in the situation, and suddenly there are three girls kissing at once.

What’s fascinating to me is that despite partaking in a little tongue waggling, none of the girls I’ve kissed would identify as bisexual or lesbian. It’s purely for enjoyment. I would describe the atmosphere as one of playful innocence — naughty but fun. Now here is the odd thing to me: If two guys got hammered and started making out, the same social rules often would not apply. I am not saying this is fair. I am not saying this is something people unanimously agree upon. But if two guys were making out at a party, most would instantly assume they were bisexual or homosexual, right? If it was a joke, I could dig it. However, if it was carried out in the same fashion that my female friends and I do our kissing (i.e. enjoying one another and ignoring the populace) then I must admit, I would be turned off by both males. They would not be potential candidates for sending their deep v-diver into my ocean blue. Many girls I speak to agree (with the exception of the female friend whose eyes brightened as she cried out with delight, “Threesome!”).

Now, things are certainly gearing toward that sort of behavior being more acceptable. I think that’s healthy and exciting. Norms are shifting! Huzzah! But at this point, there is still that frustrating tilt in male versus female social codes. If a girl invites multiple suitors into her boudoir, you assume that eventually it’ll be like throwing a hot dog into a hallway. But if a guy does the same, smoldering at da’ bitches before getting down, no worries, he’s just another playa’. These are the typical standards of our time. But still, in comparison to what our mums and dads faced, this is significant progress. Consider this: 30 years ago, you were a slut if you put out before five dates. I hear people moaning and groaning about having to wait for three.

So my sweetlings, dabble in some smooching of the sisters and enjoy getting fresh with your lady bros. Experimentation is a healthy, integral part of the college experience. Eventually the realms of experimentation may continue to expand to be more inclusive. Party on, my gaping-gobbed Gauchos, and Happy Humping!

Hayley E. is immune to the drunchies. When her lips are liquored, they have more important things to do.

A version of this article appeared on page on 12 of the Wednesday, March 6, 2013 print edition of the Daily Nexus.

Ending up with a stereotypically masculine “guys’ guy”-type roommate was a large fear of mine going into freshman year. Television and movies had taught me that this type of individual was to be avoided on the basis of also avoiding bullying and homophobia. As a young gay kid in the closet invariably would be, I was terrified that I wouldn’t get along with the prototypical hyper-masculine bro-types that sometimes seem to make this school their mecca. Fast forward two years to my current living situation, and I can say that cohabitating with a group of five of them has taught me a thing or two about how to bring my own special brand of sexual enlightenment to a group of otherwise heteronormatively inclined dudes who may never have given a passing thought to the fluidity of sexuality, the importance of male love in ancient Rome or any other inane ideas I throw at them. This social experiment of sorts I’ve been silently conducting has culminated not only in the formation of a tight-knit and tolerant group, but also a more sexually aware and, dare I say, politically-savvy group of friends who care deeply for one another. I like to think that I’m at least 75 percent responsible for this result but, admittedly, I made that number up.

What’s that, you ask? What’s the secret to my seeming success in eradicating sexual and social stereotypes? Why, I’m glad you asked, dear reader. My secret — and here’s where it gets really complicated — was that I treated them all like I would treat any other group of friends: like people I want to get to know. Confused? Keep reading.

By virtue of living together, we naturally spent a fair bit of time together. And in that time, we debated issues of sex, sexuality, gender, politics and culture, you name it. We held parties and watched movies together; we went on hiking trips and to fancy restaurants. I even gave them an informational session on how gay sex works. I got to know these guys, and they got to know me. So I guess that’s the simple secret to our friendship. Shocking isn’t it?

So over the course of this admittedly boring and rather mundane anecdote, we come to the fairly obvious conclusion that those popular social models and the stereotypes that society presents us with, are too often false. This group of men that I had secretly been afraid of has turned into a set of the best friends I have ever known. My fear surrounding their masculinity and whether that would be a barrier to our friendship was not grounded in reality but rather in a set of preconceived notions handed to me by (for lack of a better word) “society.” So the next time you find yourself considering new friends, whether it’s that frat bro in your section, the sorority girl in your CLAS class or the stoner down the hall, they all have their own story to tell, and I’m sure you might like to hear it.

This message has been approved by the bros of Luc Gendrot.

This article appeared on page 8 of the Wednesday, February 27, 2013 print edition of the Nexus.