Listen, guys. I am a lady who has had sexual intercourse…oh…say….more than a few times. I am also a lady who does not want any STDs. Therefore, I am a lady who has safe sex. That means, you, male lovers, wear a condom.

Now most guys in my past haven’t thought twice about wearing a condom. Turns out most guys don’t want STDs, either! However, there have been a few who have whined…and even one more recently who made sex nearly impossible-because of condoms.

“I just can’t feel anything”…
“I don’t know how ANY guy can can come with these things…”

Those are two lines I heard from two separate guys in the last two weeks.

These remarks have infuriated me to the degree of broadcasting some tips to all of the male readers out there. Mind you, I’m well aware of the fact that MOST guys don’t mind condoms. But for those of you who do…. Read More »

Ladies, gentlemen: I am a slut.

No two ways around it: I like sex. I like sex with lots of different people. I like sex in lots of different ways. I like talking about sex. I like writing about sex. So I go out, and I hook up, and I do not always stick around to cuddle. This doesn’t mean that I’m all messed up inside, or that I need men’s approval (if you look at my “to do” list, you’ll see that “caring about men’s approval” is on the bottom, directly beneath “personally oversee the freezing-over of Hell”), or that I can’t be faithful or intimate when I fall in looooove.

It’s tough to define my motives for sleeping around, but, if I had to make a guess, I think it might have something to do with the fact that I have a huge freaking pleasure center in my crotch, and it feels good when people touch it. So yeah: I’m a slut. I call myself a slut. I let my friends call me a slut. I even let my dude call me a slut, although that happens exclusively in bed. Read More »

As young, sexy singles (or not-so-singles), who doesn’t love a rousing bedroom session that gets the sweat running and the endorphins pumping at full speed? As I’m sure we all know, sex can easily fall into the routine category; kiss a little bit, feel eachother up, oral sex (if you’re lucky) and then it’s missionary, girl-on-top or the always faithful, doggy. And hey, those sessions can be fantastic, mind-blowing and all those other things, but aren’t there times when you want to break out of a rut and try something new and exciting?
Like, say that new position you read about in Cosmo that requires you to stand on your head while he balances on one foot?

I’m here to tell you, these positions, while alluring in theory are not only an excessive amount of work (that isn’t always worth that coveted “O”), they can even be hazardous to your health…anyone ever heard of a sex injury (or as my friends and I call it, a sexjury)?

Read more at College Candy here!

When I was still dancing, I worked with this girl. Her name was E. We knew so many E’s at the time, we started attaching adjectives to their names, to tell them apart. There was Cool E, Hippie E, and the E that we worked with. She came to be called Dumb E.

E Had a serious lisp–the worst lisp I’ve ever heard. She was also incredibly stupid. She was a year older than me (20 at the time) but she had the I.Q. of an 8 year old (maybe). And when you talked to her in the dressing room, you just thought of her as an eight-year-old, and everything was OK.

However, ten minutes later, that same little girl would be completely naked (it was an all nude club) climb up a 30-foot pole, flip upside down, slide to the floor and show the guy in the front row her p***y for a dollar. She had surprisingly good motor skills, for a complete moron. No rhythm, but she didn’t fall and bash her head, very often. Read More »

Drinking too much is bad. Urging people to drink safely and stay away from their car after a few beers is good. Using a half-naked chick to tell people drinking too much is bad, especially if they want to drive…is really confusing to say the least.

Arrive Alive, an organization devoted to ending drunk driving, has recently begun a prevention campaign that consists of lifelike stickers of a totally wasted girl in both men’s and women’s restrooms. The girl in the men’s restroom sticker is sitting with her thigh-high stockinged legs apart, eyes drooping, as though she’s just stumbled into the wrong bathroom and collapsed on the floor. I’ll sober up when I’m behind the wheel, her black shirt states.

The same girl is featured in the women’s restroom sticker, except this time she’s on all fours, presumably throwing up with her thong underwear clearly showing. I just need to get it out of my system, her shirt explains. Do these ads really deter drinking and driving? Read More »

I love it when Newsweek lets its hair down and talks about the benefits of sex.

You dirty, filthy magazine…ahem.

In an age where student/teacher sex scandals pop up as often as the teen boners inspiring them, it’s no surprise that being sexually frustrated is frequently pinned as one of the main reasons kids today get tense, irritable and violent - just like adults not getting any! An orgasm (from sex) a day will keep the anti-social behavior away.

Following up on their previous pro-sex stance (really - who isn’t pro-sex?) Newsweek published an article today about the health benefits of weekly sex. Read More »

It always worked on TV. When Donna Martin and David Silver broke up on 90210, they stayed friends. When Ross and Rachel broke up on Friends, they were eventually fine hanging out with the group.

So is it any wonder that I always held out hope that the same things were possible for me?

Despite the fact that everyone told me differently, I always thought that my ex and I could defy all odds and stay friends long after our year long relationship came to an end. After all, it didn’t end badly. It just ended.

We still loved each other and neither one of us could imagine life without the other, so we convinced ourselves that we could do it. We could stay friends.

The only problem was that we were not acting like friends. We were still hanging out all the time and holding hands and doing things that I did not do with my other friends. We were still talking on the phone late at night and buying each other gifts just because. Read More »

The alarm screams at 7:54 AM, tearing me out of dream in which I was awkwardly going back to my high school prom. I am already not a fan of this day.

I do my best to get up and into the shower without falling asleep and slamming my head against the tile wall. Running downstairs, gulping a few spoonfuls of cereal and grabbing my keys, I make it out the door just in time.

The rain and 45 degree day seem fitting. As does the a**hole who cuts in front of me and then stops short to stare at a dead squirrel in the middle of the road. I’ve forgotten how much I hate driving. Going back to New York will be a blessing in one big, public transportation way.

Snagging a gynecologist appointment at home was a stroke of luck, but as I pull into the familiar parking lot, I can’t help but feel the pre-visit jitters. It’s not that I’m afraid of those stirrups and cold metal speculums, I’m just not happy to see them. Ever. Read More »