Somtimes, this is a better alternative.

You’ve been working your game all night, leaning in just enough to show off the magic that is your Victoria’s Secret Deep Plunge push-up bra. Your hair is perfect, your makeup is flawless and you’ve done your signature laugh-and-touch-his-arm move every time he’s said something cute and funny.

Now you’re just waiting for him to lean in and kiss those perfectly glossed lips.

You like this boy; every last thing about him. He’s got the same major as you, you have mutual friends, he wears really great jeans and he even watches The Hills. Could there be anyone more perfect!? You’ve been dreaming about kissing him since the moment you met him and now you’re so almost there. He’s ditched his friends to talk to you in the corner of the party for the last half hour, so you’re pretty much sure this makeout sesh is in the bag.

After screaming into each other’s ears over the “Put It In The Bag” blaring from the speakers, he asks you if you want to go outside to get some air. The butterflies in your stomach start jumping around in excitement. Coyly, you agree to go.

He takes your hand (swoon!) and leads you outside. Your knees are trembling, but you pull yourself together and follow him through the crowd.  Once outside, you begin to shiver. Not because it’s cold, but because you just know he’s going to kiss you and you’re at once nervous and excited. Read More »

I’ve hooked up with quite a few people in my time on this planet. I won’t share my number here, because that’s nobody’s business but mine and the unfortunate roommates who had to listen as I added more boys to the list, but let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of romps.

My “number,” however, only reflects about 75% of them.

Why? Well, because there are some that just shouldn’t count. Like the guy who couldn’t keep it up, or the one who left while I was sleeping and I wouldn’t recognize again if he was lying in my bed completely naked. Or the one who referred to my lady parts as “Taco Bell” (as in, “Yo quiero your Taco Bell”) and was immediately asked to leave.

Why should I count someone who likened my vajay to a Chalupa?

We all have those guys or hookups that just shouldn’t count. And by “count” I mean “never happened and I am going to drink heavily so I completely block it out.” I asked the CollegeCandy writers to tell me which guys didn’t make their list. Where do you draw the line? Read More »