More often than I should, I’ll appease the hormonal monster rumbling inside me and watch re-runs of Sex and the City. While most of the time it’s just fun to bask in its girly triteness (Prada bags and gay B.F.F.’s, omg!), there are often some real gems of truth hidden in the fluff. The other day, for instance, Miranda Hobbes spoke to me. In her all-too-relatable anal-retentiveness, she vented to the other girls about a lover whose bossiness crawled under her skin – except, of course, for when it crawled under her sheets. Exasperated, she posed the question, “Why is it that what I hate in life, I love in sex?”

In a simple question, she brought to light something that so many of us struggle with: the dualism of the “sex self” and “real self.” They’re the little angel and demon that perch atop our naked shoulders as we bone, whispering in one ear, “Dooo it! Ask him to call you a smelly buck-toothed hooker!” and “Don’t even think about it! Have you no bloody self-respect, lass?” in the other. My real self is an old Irishman, just so you know.

This sexual dualism is one more indication that sex is a completely altered state in which our values and preferences invert. I asked fellow Gauchos to divulge when and where their two selves collide. What do they hate in life, but love in sex?

A majority of the students I talked to listed run-of-the-mill annoyances; you know, stuff that the little shit who sat behind you in third grade used to do. Pulling your hair, breathing in your ear, making walrus wails, etc. Play these things to the tune of sex, and they’re magic. Other everyday annoyances that turn to sexual gold include waking up early, not getting enough sleep, sweating in bed, working to the point of exhaustion, and as one guy smirked, “Ice cold water hitting my body.”

In the bedroom, many self-proclaimed feminists tell the inner activist to take a hike. Says one female student, “[I] think porn is degrading to women. However, in the bedroom, I can’t help but want to be thrown around, tied up, slapped on the ass, talked dirty to, dress up and just let all inhibitions out the window.” Other Gaucho women I spoke with agree: you can call them bitches in the sheets, but don’t you dare in the streets.

Jealousy can take a different form when clothes come off. When in reality, the thought of her boyfriend sleeping with other people is devastating, a student confesses, “Fantasizing together about watching him with another girl is exhilarating!”

Many sexy-timers admitted that they delight in ruling the bedroom with an iron fist. They dictate every move and ravage their partners, howling a tribal chant and pounding their chests all the while. However, they insist the iron-fisting (um, ouch?) stops post-coitus. One student lists as one of his deepest real-life loathings, “being in a position where I need to lead.”

On the contrary, some naturally headstrong Gauchos confess that they tend to relinquish their power in bed. “I like to be in charge in everything in my life, usually,” says a female alumnus. “That said, I like it when he takes charge in the bedroom… I don’t want to be stressed out trying to decide what to do next. I like when he does most of the work.” Another student, who describes herself as a creative go-getter, admits that in bed, she’s rarely one to toy with “breaking out of the box.”

Dominant or submissive, creative or comfortable, many can agree that one thing is better in sex than in real life: people. Says one person, “I hate people who think they are better than everyone else. When I have sex, I am with someone I can relate to and who doesn’t think she’s better than me.” Another chimes, “People suck! But in bed, they suck in a good way!”

Whether we choose to keep our two selves in separate corners of the ring or fuse their positive qualities together, sexual dualism makes us exciting and multi-dimensional. After all, Ludacris digs “a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed,” not “a lady who’s characteristically consistent in all areas, which includes, but is not limited to, the bed.”