Sex and the community

It seems like you can’t suck a single dick in this town without finding out that said dick belongs to your freshman year roommate’s lab partner’s sorority big’s ex-situationship who committed some heinous offense against her. 

When you first arrive in Isla Vista as a doe-eyed freshman, it feels huge. Unlimited hot guys span for miles, there are no parents to catch you bringing a guy home and parties create the perfect environment for endless hookups. Yet, once one reaches their geriatric third year, hooking up in I.V. becomes more stressful than it is fun.

I.V. is an entangled web of classmates, fraternities and sororities, clubs, 15-person houses and bands. If you’ve had sex with anyone in I.V., you likely can’t take a sunset stroll down Del Playa without running into a girl with whom you’ve shared a dick.

I didn’t realize how toxic this environment is for hooking up and dating until I had the privilege of spending a semester in Paris, where I enjoyed France’s finest export: men. 

In a big city, you can make out with someone at the bar whose name you don’t know and never see them again. You can quintuple-text someone begging them to come over, show up in a trench coat with nothing underneath (I would know) or commit some horrible dating faux pas and it will never matter.

The anonymity of a non-I.V. environment offers a drastically more authentic and fun dating experience. What is that guy, who you drunk called eight times, going to tell his friends? You might not ever meet them, you might never see that guy again and there is an unlimited supply of other anonymous guys to have fun with.

However, I.V. is the exact opposite. If you’re talking to someone who ends up being your coworker’s high school best friend’s ex, the news that you texted one too many times, or used a little too much teeth during head, will ripple through the social network quickly.

I.V.’s hyper-interconnectedness has created an environment that thrives on a lack of romance and an overabundance of gossip and nonchalance. Your faux pas exists not just between you and your partner, but defines your reputation in such a small community. 

It doesn’t help when you have to confront your ex-conquests and all of their friends on a practically weekly basis in the Arbor. I mean, the odds of never seeing someone that you once knew are very slim.

We are not unique in this way, in that presumably every college town has these organizations that create ample connections and throw parties where the inevitable happens. However, I.V.’s stereotype of having an especially substantial hookup culture has proven true, at least in my years here.

When everyone has hooked up with everyone (at least by association), how do we avoid or navigate these awkward situations?

Well, for one, we can stop with the incest. If you’ve hooked up with all of your club’s Executive Board and they’ve all hooked up with their housemates who’ve all hooked up with the Sig Pi Fall ‘23 pledge class, your web has become too tangled.

We all know about the coworker crush stereotype: when you’re forced into enclosed spaces, long hours and stressful decision-making circumstances, you’re bound to develop feelings for your otherwise unremarkable colleague. This phenomenon becomes especially prevalent at UC Santa Barbara, where people are sexy and half of club or work meetings involve getting wasted on someone’s couch.

Moral of the story: don’t mix business and pleasure. For the sake of the web not getting more tangled, and for your own good — you don’t want to attend the club’s next meeting after the Vice President couldn’t find your clit on Saturday.

Second, realize that I.V. isn’t permanent (for the most part). We are all shoved into these tiny four blocks for four years where your DFMO (dancefloor makeout) with an ugly person at the Snow Club dayge feels like the most embarrassing thing in the world.

And yet, my sexual ghosts of I.V. past have already disappeared from my mind for the most part (shoutout Marcos from Ganja House freshman year). You likely will not have to see that loser that you think ruined your life ever again after a few years (which will go by faster than you expect).

I.V. is a weird simulation that breeds hyper-self-consciousness, stoicism and the Cool Olympics. You deserve the kind of partnership that you want. You deserve to have orgasms when you sleep with people. You deserve to have fun in these precious four years.

When you’re old and looking back on your college years, you’ll look fondly upon your silliest stories, your craziest moments and your most wild hookups. You won’t be happy that you were the most nonchalant person in your friend group.

So, be your expressive and silly self! Don’t be afraid to double text, or ask for that crazy thing during sex that you’ve been wanting to try, or tell someone off because they aren’t treating you right. The tangled web will shatter soon anyways.

Diana Paradise knows good sex (and isn’t afraid to ask).