Opinion

SEX ON THURSDAY | Fornicating on 4/20

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As many readers may know, today marks a sacred holiday for much of the Cornell community: April 20th; devil’s lettuce day; hashish holiday; 4/20. Whether the holiday originates from a group of juvenile delinquents in California, from celebration of the passing of a medical marijuana bill by the senate or a sneaky play on a police code to signal youth marijuana use, it is on this sacred day that those choosing to indulge light up in unison — at 4:20 PM — to celebrate their beloved psychoactive stimulant. It is a beautiful day of togetherness, community and of course, getting as high as a kite when you should be in class. To honor this revered holiday — and for the purposes of this column — I am using today to unpack the multitude of ways weed manifests itself during 4/20 fornication. From the dissociate to the giggler, here are all of the different options you should be prepared for should you choose to get spicy on the 20th of April.

Opinion

SEX ON THURSDAY | The Art of Kissing

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A year ago, give or take, I was hooking up with this guy at a public park in the middle of the night. How we got there doesn’t matter — partially because I forget why we ended up there — but alas, that was the setting. We made out on a park bench for about an hour before this man had the audacity to tell me that he was getting bored. 

I remember cocking my head to the side, my brow knitting together in confusion. Surely this boy was not getting bored of me, or of the slightly creepy ambiance we had found ourselves in. When I asked him how he could possibly be bored, he told me that it was because all we were doing was kissing. 

Even with his clarification, my confusion wasn’t resolved. Making out is the best thing that humans ever figured out how to do. Kissing, period, is the best thing that has happened to society since men stopped living as nomads and started kissing everyone in their primitive little settlements.

Opinion

SEX ON THURSDAY | Ethical Sluttery and Solo-Polyamory

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When it comes to romance and sexual relations, I seek novelty. I seek the nervous excitement of a budding romance or an unfamiliar fuck. But I also seek the comfort, reliability, unconditional affection and deep connection fostered within a longer-term romance or fuckbuddyship. My “exclusive” high school relationship supplied me with the latter, but at the expense of that novelty which I now know is equally important to my overall romantic and sexual satisfaction. Only in college did I come to terms with my need for both at once, and with the possibility of ethically having both at once via polyamory. 

Opinion

SEX ON THURSDAY | Recently Rejected and Unable to Cope

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For too long, I’ve thought of men as robots who gravitate to a massive butt or perfectly-adjusted boobs. It baffled me that I looked my best, put on the charm and still got left high and dry. Surely, in the half-hour (!) that we spoke prior to the inevitable rejection, a hair must’ve fallen out of place, or I said something incredibly unattractive. That night, after shedding a few crocodile tears, I began to think about everything that isn’t perfect about me.

So much flooded my mind. Maybe I was too forward, I thought. Maybe I should’ve acted less interested, I wondered.

Opinion

SEX ON THURSDAY | Why, Oh Why is He Taken?

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Annaleigh Ashford said it best as Lauren in Kinky Boots: they’re only nice when they’re unavailable.

I, Virginia Snatch, capped off an uneventful winter break with an extremely eventful return to campus. I left last semester’s sneaky link (the subject of one too many Sex on Thursday articles…) behind and went searching for a new one. I hope you all have been up to the same hijinks as yours truly.

However, this prowling has taken me back to square one: A guy I tried to curb my feelings for because of his relationship status. Yes, of course, the guy I like is taken. Another notch in a series of unfortunate events, that is, my love life.

Opinion

SEX ON THURSDAY | To Screw or Not To Screw (In the Stacks)

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Today I write with a confession of my own naivety, willing to admit that despite my self-proclaimed breadth of knowledge regarding Cornell’s sexscape, there is one element of our campus’ sensual situation that I have critically overlooked: I did not realize that people were actually fucking in the stacks.