Our society’s discourse on sex in incredibly reckless.
From an American perspective, the rhetoric is either, “Sex is awesome, and if you’re not having it, your life fails to have any meaning” or “If you’re having sex, you’re a dirty heathen who deserves to burn in eternal damnation.” This is so dysfunctional, and I really feel it does more harm than good. Many of my columns have taken a very actively sex-positive slant, encouraging safe, consensual, fun, enjoyable sex — which of course I will forever support. However, sometimes I think it’s far more interesting to think about the reasons people abstain from sex. Read More »
There is this pervasive notion that everyone in college is obsessed with sex, that every social interaction begins with “hello” and ends with both parties naked and entwined. The “college hookup culture” rhetoric makes it sound like we all graduate with a degree, an STD, and a pregnancy scare under our belts from all our years of constant promiscuity.
In reality, though hook ups are common, an increased number of students are identifying as virgins. As much as I love talking about sex, and how amazing it can be, I totally acknowledge abstinence as a legitimate choice. For much of my college life, I was practicing abstinence. Contrary to stale stereotypes, I wasn’t a sullen, judgmental prude waiting for the perfect man to marry me before I gave it up. I was sex-positive, make out-friendly, and always looked forward to Sunday mornings so I could live vicariously through my friends’ recaps of their sexcapades.
Despite my deep interest in sex, I knew I wasn’t ready to engage yet (unlike others). I was waiting for someone I could trust. Someone who would grab breakfast with me in the dining hall a couple of times a week, who would respond to my texts in a reasonably timely fashion, who I could have the “let’s get tested” convo with, who would be there for me if I did get pregnant and would be a source of support for me while I figured out what my next course of action would be. And I just wasn’t coming across dudes who fit that description. Read More »
I’m starting to think that the people who come with elaborate and creative abstinence plans are completely asexual. Because when you’re hooking up with someone and contemplating the horizontal mambo, you’re really in the mood to throw on your spectacles and read the messages on someone’s underwear.
“Oh wait, what’s that, your body language is saying you want to have sex, but your underwear is saying not tonight? Well blue balls be damned, I’m pulling up my pants, and I’m going to go finish off my night reading the bible and eating dry toast.”
The only way this underwear method could possibly work would be if it had a high-res image of a baby being born and a Teen Mom DVD set coupon stapled on the back. That might remind some people of the possible consequences of sex…and hopefully remind them to use birth control.
So, apparently Bristol Palin is rolling in the dough from participating in the Candie’s Foundation’s abstinence campaign . If your saying “whaat?!” right now then we are in total agreement. How can Little Miss Get Pregnant at 18 While Your mom is Running for VP be making so much money (click here to see just how much!) promoting something she knows nothing about. And also, sidenote, why are people considering BP a celebrity?
Anyways, it got us thinking…if Bristol Palin can make this much money for promoting abstinence, then who else should be making mad dough for being a complete hypocrite…
What were they smoking when they came up with this crackpot commercial for abstinence? No seriously. Does anyone really think that The Situation is a good spokesperson for anything, let alone anything involving smart sex decisions? We won’t even get into the fact that Bristol “I don’t have sex…except for that one time when I got pregnant” Palin has become a spokeswoman for abstinence.
But I will give credit where credit is due, and it’s clear from this commercial that they’re both excellent actors. (In this context excellent means horrible, unconvincing, poorly trained, stick to regional theater).
P.S Candies: you really couldn’t find ANYONE else to do this? Maybe try Craigslist next time? Or Google “celebrities who don’t have kids.” Just a suggestion.
It was Thanksgiving up in Canada this past weekend. I spent turkey day with my extended family, eating the most delicious of dinners (though, in all honesty, almost anything is a step-up from nightly KD), devouring pumpkin pie, and feeling a bit like an outcast.
You see, while my entire family is aware that I’m an up-and-coming journalist, I always find it interesting that no one brings up exactly what I write about or what kind of publications I’m aiming to write for after graduation. Even my successes – the fact that I just got to interview my sex-columnist hero, Dan Savage, and that I’m running my very own sex advice column in my school paper – were tiptoed around like a landmine. God forbid I say the “sex” word, I suppose.
Maybe I’m too wrapped up in this world of college where finding a condom wrapper in the kitchen garbage is just another thing to laugh at, and not used to being around people who blush at the word “vagina”. I can’t help but wonder, though, why sex is such an utterly taboo topic — why being a nearly-twenty-year-old sex columnist comes with this huge stigma, even when it’s approached in the most sex-positive and family-appropriate of ways (really, it’s not like I was going to get into the intimacies of my sex life around the dinner table).
And the thing is, this isn’t just an issue that surrounds my (apparently conservative) family. This is something that affects everyone – from the girls who refuse to masturbate because they believe their vulvas are “gross”, to the married couples who let their sex lives suffer horribly because they’re too embarrassed to put into words what exactly it is that they want in bed – we’re all being affected by sex-negativity, but where exactly does it come from?
Why does it matter how many people someone has had sex with?
In the world of journalism, that, my friends, is called a question lede. I’m supposed to spend the rest of this article trying to answer that question, but honestly I can’t make any promises. You see, that question has been in my mind for a while now, and I can’t seem to figure it out. Why do people care about someone’s “magic number,” and why is a person’s morality level judged by how many sexual partners they’ve had?
Historically speaking, it’s understandable why chastity and virginity were important. Without any kind of protection, getting pregnant or catching a disease was very much a reality. Virginity was maintained until marriage because no one wanted to catch a disease from their future spouse. Which is fair enough, really.
But those reasons are mainly invalid in modern times; we have condoms to save us from diseased genitals and unwanted fetuses. So long as sex is protected, it really shouldn’t matter how many people have been involved. Sex with multiple partners (not necessarily at the same time…) is often frowned upon as being immoral and looked at as being a “sin of the flesh” – but what is so immoral about it? No one is getting hurt and no one is being damaged. So long as the people involved are consenting and protected, there really is nothing immoral about it. Read More »
For my 20th birthday last year all my friends congratulated me on surviving teen pregnancy. Although we had a little chuckle, teen pregnancy is a huge issue that is only getting worse. Honestly, with shows like I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant holding marathons every weekend I’m completely baffled as to why young girls are still getting knocked up. But they are. A lot.
Clearly these young ladies need a real lesson in Sex Ed, because whatever they’ve been taught is not sinking in. So being the baby fearing girls birth control experts that we are, CollegeCandy has put together a few rock-solid ideas to preventing teen pregnancy in this here country. If teachers and parents do things our way, teen pregnancy would be a thing of the past. And MTV would have a few time-slots to fill during the week. Read More »
I love boys. I love boys so tall they might hit their heads when they walk through a doorway and boys so short they’ve probably never entertained fantasies of basketball stardom. I love boys as dark as the blackest coffee, as white as the snow that I am not looking forward to this winter, and every shade in between. Give me a boy, any boy, and I’ll find something I love about him.
This is why even I wondered if I was slightly insane when I decided to completely abstain from boys this summer.
The decision (The Vow, as I now refer to it) was something I really had to think about. I knew that going home to Miami would mean I’d have options for a summer fling. Beautiful, jacked, sun-god-like options that seem to only exist in dreams. But, having been single for over three years, I needed a break.
I think that relationships, as amazing as they can be, sometimes just aren’t worth it. I’m incredibly busy, as are most college students, so I only want to make time in my life for someone if we have something I can’t imagine giving up. But while being single right now is best for me, it can be so exhausting. From wondering if the attractive guy digs me back to whether or not to be physical with a guy I may not have emotional connections with, I was just sick of it. So, to the surprise of my friends, I decided that for summer, I’d basically be like one of the nuns that taught me in grade school. Except I’d still curse and wear bikinis and stuff.
When people would ask my why I was doing this, I usually said something new-agey like “I just need some time to really be alone. I need to focus on myself.” And focus on myself I did. I took a mini road trip with one of my best friends to an amazing art exhibit. I re-read one of my favorite books that I haven’t read since junior year of high school. I started doing Pilates, which completely rejuvenated and calmed me. I surrounded myself with the carefree joy of children, and picked some of their confidence along the way. Read More »
There is this pervasive notion that everyone in college is obsessed with sex, that every social interaction begins with “hello” and ends with both parties naked and entwined. The “college hookup culture” rhetoric makes it sound like we all graduate with a degree, an STD, and a pregnancy scare under our belts from all our years of constant promiscuity.
Why does it matter how many people someone has had sex with?
I love boys. I love boys so tall they might hit their heads when they walk through a doorway and boys so short they’ve probably never entertained fantasies of basketball stardom. I love boys as dark as the blackest coffee, as white as the snow that I am not looking forward to this winter, and every shade in between. Give me a boy, any boy, and I’ll find something I love about him.
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