As a college female, I’ve heard (and experienced) my fair share of morning after horror stories ranging from the comedic “he couldn’t get it to fit” to the panic induced “I had to take a taxi to Planned Parenthood this morning.” These stories are usually recounted over hungover brunches and amidst a cacophony of laughter, a casual setting for a seemingly casual topic. But there remains a rampant, almost unnoticeable issue in the way many young women both talk about and experience sex. Girls seem to talk about sex as something that happened to them rather than with them. Friends have told me that despite multiple sexual encounters, they have yet to feel any sense of pleasure. Others have said they just “let it happen” and wait for it to be over. Sex positivity has become dramatically more prevalent in our culture in recent years, but why are young women still afraid to talk about sex candidly not only with friends, but with their partners? Why are young women afraid to tell their partners they need oral sex in order to orgasm?
It’s Thursday night. You took a prelim earlier that day, so there’s no way in hell you’re making it to your sections tomorrow. You got out of your exam just in time to make it to the pregame with your girls before the mixer. So naturally, you start the night off with some saccharine mixture of vodka and whatever flat, top-missing mixer y’all were able to find in the apartment’s kitchen. You throw in a few ice cubes for good measure because nobody remembered to put the off brand 2-liter in the fridge.
Nobody ever tells you that there is more than one way to have sex. Growing up, we learn about sex from a variety of resources. My experience began with my cousin literally trapping me in a closet and making me listen to her explicitly state what part of a man goes in where in a woman while I covered my ears and pretended I didn’t believe or understand what she was saying. Then my parents gave me a book when I was around ten years old, explaining that when a man and a woman love each other very much, and are ready to have a baby, there is something nice they could do. Middle school health classes were my next educators on the subject.
Romantic attachment is terrifying. It’s something we have little control over, something that can make one feel weak and pathetic when not reciprocated and something that many of us try very hard to avoid in college (and life in general). Nevertheless, we still want to have sex with people and usually end up just hoping we won’t like them for anything more than the orgasms. With attachment coming into play, though, it’s sometimes easier to either avoid this contact entirely, or find oneself stuck in painfully unstable interactions. Don’t get me wrong though, attachment and the formation of a deeper relationship with an individual are amazing. What’s painful is trying to remain detached, trying to persuade yourself that you care for nothing more than the physical aspect of an interaction with an individual.
It was just a regular, run-of-the-mill one-night stand last semester. I had been beaten squarely in a rousing drinking game of pong by a handsome stranger. If we talked beyond “Wow, you actually made a cup” or “for fire!” I don’t recall, because that’s not what made this encounter special. After a brief consenting exchange, we were stumbling around Collegetown bound for his apartment. Upon arrival, we made our drunken presence loudly known to all of his cohabitants in the way that intoxicated lovebirds do in the wee hours of the night.
The feelings won’t go away. I don’t even know what they are. I’m confused between missing an idea and missing a person — missing an experience and missing something that could have been. Everything feels very empty and I’m reaching out for the person who gave me life and true excitement through it, but he’s not there. I don’t care when, how or if we have sex.
Sex is arguably the most ubiquitous and important behavior across the entirety of the human race. Without sex, humans would literally cease to exist. Both men and women think about sex many times every day, and the focus on sex can be seen in a huge variety of contexts, from clothing advertisements to the hordes of single college students who pack themselves into sweaty bars, clubs and frat parties. But despite the ubiquity of sex and sexual thoughts, many people are extremely uncomfortable talking about sex, even with those close to them. Frank discussions on topics related to sex remain taboo in many areas of our society.
When you walk into a video game store, you know what you’re going to get: a lot of first person shooters, sports games and fantasy RPGs. Very little variety.
If these kinds of games appeal to you, great. If they don’t, chances are you won’t find something different for a very long time.
A recent article in CNET indicates game designers are cognizant of this problem and are working to fix this by developing more innovative games. At the Game Developers Conference in San Francisco, a contest on March 27, game designers worked for 36 hours to develop a game. This year, the concept was “your first time”, or an autobiographical game about how the game designers lost their virginity.
The New York State Department of Health announced that in accordance with Gov. Elliot Spitzer’s (D) health care plan, New York will be refusing Title V federal funding for abstinence-only sexual education. The statement, released on Sept. 20, explained that the Department of Health would instead be directing their funding and teaching efforts toward comprehensive sexual education.
Joanne Smith, president and CEO of Family Planning Advocates of New York State, applauded Spitzer’s decision.
“[Spitzer and Dr. Richard F. Daines, commissioner of the Department of Health] told me that this was not a hard decision,” Smith said. “The medical facts showed this was necessary.”