It was destiny that sunny afternoon last year when I blew off school, got drunk with my housemates and let them convince me to apply for the position of sex columnist. When I first came to UCSB, I was naive, overenthusiastic and ready to begin the next chapter of my life with my virginity still intact. Well, about 25 percent intact, after I experienced the “you want me to stick what in my mouth?” and “that’s what it looks like?” moments in high school. In essence, the knowledge and experience of sex and having sex all took place in this square-mile paradise. That’s right, Isla Vista is a paradise on earth… and so am I. No really, it’s not a pseudonym, and anyone with a quarter of a brain and an active Internet connection should know that.

This is my farewell column, and my last chance to say everything that has ever crossed my mind while writing. Excuse my stream of consciousness while I struggle to keep myself happy and witty, as I’m being forced to leave the best job I’ve ever had. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it is time to move on from UCSB and Isla Vista. It’s time to begin my life in the real world, where it’s socially unacceptable to go to work drunk, where beer pong isn’t the standard weekend activity and where “work” isn’t optional or loosely defined.

However, moving on doesn’t mean forgetting the sexual experiences of college that shaped me into the person I am today. I have broken hearts and had mine broken in the true style of karmic return. I have fought my way into and out of relationships, learned the hard way to be self-reliant and overcome the biggest fear that comes with a sexual relationship. It’s that fear of giving yourself so completely to someone that you feel a new level of intimacy, but also leave yourself vulnerable to hurt.

It’s time to share some of my gratitude with the people who have aided me along the way and helped transform me from a na•ve 18-year-old virgin to your seasoned sex columnist.

I have appreciated all of the feedback from ya’ll. Facebook messages with advice were always taken into consideration. I appreciated all the pokes – even when I hid them – and all the compliments have inflated my ego. To my fans: Thanks for reading and I hope that you have taken something away from my column, whether it be dirty writing to jack-off to in the bathroom, a laugh in the middle of a silent lecture hall or even an empathetic moment in which you see yourself in my shoes. To all the haters: Thanks for biting and responding. Keep talking shit, because you’re making me famous.

To every man I have ever slept with: Thank you for teaching me exactly what it is that I do and do not want from a relationship. I could never have had my “been there, done that,” funny and sometimes horrifying sexual stories to share without your help. To every man who has tried to sleep with me and failed: Sorry it didn’t work out, but thanks for the ego boost. To the men that I have tried to sleep with and failed: Thanks for keeping my ego in check.

To my sisters for teaching me what it means to truly be a Paradise girl, and my parents for not freaking when they found out I was divulging my sex life to the entire student body. To all of my friends, for sharing their stories with me time and time again, only to have me shamelessly exploit you in my articles without any monetary compensation. And finally, to my boy, for putting up with my shamelessly dirty columns, and for giving me a chance to prove I’m more than a pair of wet panties with a one-track mind. You know who you are, and you rock my pants off.

So, I’m going to end this the way it began. It’s time to throw back some beers, have some sex and party my pants off before graduating. If you remember anything from the smut I have written this year, remember this: Don’t take your sex life too seriously. Sometimes it’s fun, and sometimes it’s painful, but it will always teach you in the end to find exactly what it is that you are looking for.