“So…are we gonna hook-up or what?”

Ah, another poor soul lost to the epidemic I refer to as “The Death of Subtlety.” It was a fabulous time (read: three days) we spent together. He was good-looking, kinda funny, not too much of a d-bag…in other words, a total catch. And then, as we lay in each other’s arms on the musty couch, he uttered that fateful question. Sigh. Is it too much to ask that an insignificant other be at least a little eloquent?

Apparently, the answer is yes, it is too much to ask. And while I like to think I’m the only one that destiny thrusts into these terribly awkward situations, this is not the case. Many of my peers, both guys and girls, have shared disaster stories involving their partners’ lack of tactfulness and vain attempts at trying to “get it in,” as the kids say nowadays. (My personal favorite involves Paranormal Activity, a roommate gone for the weekend, and the statement, “You should give me a blowjob.” Needless to say, nothing “got in” that night.)

So, in response to the fact that some people are not fluent in the language of subtlety, I’ve decided to compile a list of common phrases you might hear from these failed Don Juans…and how to respond.

1. “You should give me a blowjob/sleep with me/etc.”

I’m sorry, I don’t recall agreeing to an “awkward conversation for blowjobs” program. Why else should I do whatever you’re asking? By the way, definitely work on your conversational transitions.

Proper Response: You should retract that statement and try again.

2. “Hey…wanna make-out/hook-up/do something you’ll regret tomorrow?”

While better than the previous statement (they did give you the option to say no after all), this question ruins the moment and sends the awkward meter through the roof. Just touch my face or something and I’ll get the hint.

Proper Response: As charming as you are, I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request. (Bonus: Pirates of the Caribbean reference! Dudes love that.)

3. “People tell me I’m really great at sex/going down/misc. other ‘activity’.’”

I’m glad you’re proud of your “skill.” But unless you provide a reference, I really don’t care about your previous experience. And let’s be honest, I like to delude myself into thinking that you’ve only ever hooked-up with me.

Proper Response: Were those people paid for their testimonials?

4. “You know, my roommate’s gone for the weekend and I’m feeling really lonely…”

Let me guess: there’s so much room for activities now! While that sounds like a riveting opportunity, your poor attempts at making me feel empathy for your loneliness are as laughable as Kim K.’s marriage (BAM! Pop culture smackdown).

Proper Response: Now we can make intense eye contact without your pesky roommate bothering us!

5. “What’s up?” or any variation of this phrase, sent in a text at 2 a.m.

We all know and tolerate those booty call texts that can range from a simple drunken “heeyyyy” to something like the one my roommate received last week: “Bang?” (She responded with “Sleep?” Conversation over.) I’m all for late-night hook-ups, but there has to be a better way of initiating them.

Proper Response: Depends if you’re into it or not. Answering with, “I wanna hold your hand so hard,” also works.

[We ladies spend a lot of time wondering what guys are thinking, most often over stiff drinks or soupy ice cream. Unfortunately, besides The Dude, we don't often get the chance to really find out. So we continue speculating, wondering and growing more and more self-conscious by the minute. Not anymore. CollegeCandy's got a new guy in town who is going to open up his man brain and enlighten us as to what exactly goes on in there. Prepare yourselves, girls; I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting ride.]

- The very back row of the lecture hall.
- The bathrooms of every restaurant/bar within 10 miles of campus.
- The floor of your dorm or apartment.
- Any place you can get your hair or nails done.
- At the clothing racks of retail stores.

No, I’m not listing the top five places to have sex (though the last two would be sorta exciting/weird….). I’m talking about the most likely places you will overhear college women debating if their new guy is looking for a relationship or just looking for ass. We all know guys avoid the title of “boyfriend“ like it was an invitation to watch a Golden Girls marathon, but there are some nice guys still out there that do actually want to be someone’s boyfriend.

So how does a woman know if her guy is part of this endangered species?

Well, let’s backtrack a little.

As pathetic as women may feel admitting to devoting so much of their precious time to this topic, it doesn’t stop them from doing it constantly. Even the strong, confident women with healthy self-esteem find themselves in this exact situation. All logic and rationale goes flying out the window when they meet that one person who literally makes them blush with a simple hello. Meeting guys is the easy part. After first base though (or homebase for those of you homerun gals who let them run all the way home with the first swing) , things get complicated. (Excuse the baseball analogy; it helps balance out my masculinity.)

This is when all the questions start.

It was all simpler when we were younger.  If a guy kissed you, he was your boyfriend. But we all know that’s not so much the case anymore.

Here is the harsh reality, ladies: if you’re asking yourself if this guy only wants to fool around, he more than likely just wants to fool around. This is one of those situations where asking the question is the answer. Women are the most intuitive creatures on this planet, but it means nothing if you don’t pay attention to your instincts. Something happened to make you wonder about this guy, but you don’t listen. Instead, you defend the guy and tell yourself (or you give sh*tty advice to your girlfriend) that you’re being paranoid and self-loathing, that if you keep this up, he’s going to stop calling you.

Then what happens?

After hooking up a couple of times, he just stops calling you and you blame yourself.

There is nothing wrong with fooling around. It can be fun and exhilarating with the right person. It can turn a boring study date into a fantasy or a long car ride into a multitasking adventure as long as you both consider it fooling around. Your stories will have totally different endings if you’re not on the same page.

So how can you tell what your guy is thinking about this relationship? OK, ladies. Pay close attention. Here it comes….

ASK HIM!

If you were expecting secret insider tips on how to figure this out, I’m sorry to let you down. Guys are too simple — and therefore don’t require a decoder.  Either we think you’re hot/cool enough to commit ourselves or we don’t.

I will let you in on one secret: most guys aren’t expecting this conversation because we know about this internal female dilemma and we take advantage of it.  We know you wonder about our relationship status and sometimes we string you along just for the sex. It’s like we snuck onto a sexual rollercoaster ride and we just enjoy it and play dumb until we get caught without our tickets. If a woman were to ask a man where their relationship was going, he would be so caught off guard that he’d tell the truth in a moment of shock because you asked and, well, he needs to answer.

It’s true that women seem to obsess more about this issue than men, but I think it’s because women lose sight of the fact that they have all the power-the power of sex. Women decide the time and place for sex and that can move mountains. Think about it: when was the last time you spent all your money buying guys drinks, working on pick-up lines, or trying to get a guy drunk to improve your chances of hooking up? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not summarizing the worth of women based on sex, but you have to realize that whether a guy wants to be your eff buddy, your boyfriend, or your husband, one thing’s for sure, he wants to have sex with you. Instead of trying to figure some guy out, think about if he’s worth it and then bluntly communicate what you want.

Life’s too short for ambiguity. When it comes to dealing with guys, it is better to always communicate what you want and what you expect so there are no misunderstandings. It’s true that guys can be clueless when it comes to what a woman wants or is thinking, but women don’t help much when you make us guess all the time. Get everything out in the open and take back control.

Ah, the LDR . . . it’s one of the most talked-about relationship types ever, and for good reason—there’s just so much to say about it. Should you do it? Shouldn’t you? For some people, it’s not so bad, and for others, it’s absolutely never going to work. But if you find the right person and it just happens to be the wrong time in your life to physically be in the same place, is an LDR worthwhile? Here’s a breakdown of the pros and cons:

ADVANTAGES

Be a total pig: If you’re not exactly Mr. Clean, your significant other never needs to know unless he or she comes to visit, in which case you can do a total sweep of the house in time for the arrival. In fact, it’s easy to cover up a lot of bad habits if you’re in a long-distance relationship. As long as you can hold off pounding down the Cheetos or compulsively biting your nails for the short times when you do actually see the person you’re dating, you can otherwise freely indulge in your vices.

Time for yourself: This is a biggie. If you still like to hit up the bar with your friends or spend all your spare time watching college football games, there’s no boyfriend or girlfriend to stop you in an LDR. In a way, it’s the best of both worlds—you get to date a great person while still enjoying one of the biggest benefits of being single: time.

Check out the goods: A long-distance relationship does not give you an excuse to cheat on your significant other, and if you do, you’ll probably be sorry (yes, s/he will find out). But it does give you a pretty good excuse to eye up other hotties without feeling totally guilty about it. There’s not really any harm in an extended gaze of that guy’s six-pack at the beach, so stare away!

DISADVANTAGES

No booty calls: Unless you’ve figured out the nuances of time and space travel, you’re probably going to end up pleasing yourself most of the time when you feel like getting some. Don’t get me wrong—that can be great—but it’s not exactly the same great as having a warm, loving body next to you.

Tenuous relationship: Let’s be honest—even regular, same-city or same-living-space relationships are hard enough to hold together. It gets a lot harder when you’re living dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of miles apart. You might start on a firm foundation and then watch that crumble when you realize you don’t have quite enough interest or quite enough enthusiasm to expend the effort of trying to make it work.

Cell-phone ear: I was in a long-distance relationship for the better part of three years, and I don’t think I’ll ever look at a cell phone the same way again. Sure, it’s a great tool, but it’s also a great annoyance. There are few worse things than having a phone plastered to your ear for hours on end. Plus, face-to-face time doesn’t send those wonky tower waves through your brain.

Are you in an LDR? What’s the best part of it? The worst?

[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupidity of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone etiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortunate road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

Ex-boyfriend calls out of the blue (at 3 am).

Although it would be mighty enjoyable to deny your calls during daylight hours, I just couldn’t muster up the proper amount of excitement about ignoring you as I was attempting to sleep. At 3 am. As most (okay some) college students are doing on Wednesday nights. It was, in fact, incredibly irritating to listen to my phone vibrating violently until it buzzzzed right off my nightstand, unplugged itself from my charger and died early the next morning, preventing me from whiling away my classes with interesting texts and Facebook stalking.

It seems that you still find ways to annoy the sh*t out of me, even technologically! Your call was especially appreciated by my new (and way better) boyfriend, who happened to be sleeping next to me and was quite frankly a little pissed off for the entire next day due to sleep deprivation and extreme annoyance with you. The only consolation I got from your obnoxious ass was the touching voicemail you left me (I believe you were crying) slurring on and on about how great I am. Well, I think it’s a little too late for that, mister, and so does everyone else who listened to it (aka 48 of my sorority sisters with a tendency to gossip)–although they did get a great laugh out of listening to your blubbering for 3 minutes.

Re-runs of The Office when you specifically cancelled Thirsty Thursday to curl up with Jim and Pam.

Any college student can tell you how vitally important Thursdays are to the bar, social and (for my single ladies) the sexual scene on campus (um, VERY). So it’s a heart wrenching decision when I decide to spare my liver and my wallet on the occasional Thurs, order myself an entire pizza (not that I’ll eat it all at once or anything…) and wave a bittersweet goodbye to my dressed up friends waltzing out the door with our good friend Franzia tucked under one arm. Any regret of staying in usually vanishes upon the beginning of my favorite Comedy Night Done Right component: The Office. And then it’s a repeat. I already know that Jan had her baby before the shower, that Angela gets screwed out of both Dwight and Andy, and that sadly, Michael will not win Holly back. What I do not know is how to deal with the intense anger and grief that accompanies my realization that I have 20 minutes to get ready, get my ass to the bar and start chugging before Beat the Clock is over. You may have won this week NBC, but I’ll be watching next week’s episode on Hulu while I’m hungover Friday afternoon.

Scented Candles.

It seems like I buy a new scented candle anytime I go anywhere. At the mall, it’s Bath and Body Works to splurge on White Barn. At home it’s buying fundraising candles from younger cousins or my mom’s co-workers. At Walmart it’s just me going buckwild on the candle aisle (they’re like $2.99 for a 20 ouncer! I’d be crazy not to take advantage!). Every time  I come home with a new candle, find a strategically awesome place to put it so that it matches the room’s color/vibe/purpose/season/whatev and light that bad boy up, I get a little feeling of wonderfully scented satisfaction. Fast forward to two weeks later. My formerly awesome candle just doesn’t have the same pungency. It’s not as pretty now that all the wildflowers in the wax are long gone. In fact, the wax is kind of crazy and gnarly and isn’t cute at all. And that’s if there’s even any wick left.

Most of the time it just burns down to the bottom and I’m left with a glass jar of wonderfully scented garbage. I don’t even have any surface area left in my room to put things down on. Just jars and jars of various candles that I occasionally sniff and can’t bear to throw out. I think it’s turning into a problem, so I’ve resolved only to buy 4 candles a year (so they’re seasonally appropriate, and I won’t feel bad about shelling out for Yankee Candle in the recession.). Yet everywhere I go, a new candle with some pretty ribbon or delicious scent taunts me and tries to lure me back to the dark (light and fragrant?) side…

When your roommates go on dates with a**holes.

More specifically, when I’m the designated meet and greeter for said a**holes. I have better things to do than get the door for you and make small talk while my roomie finishes making herself hotter (for your benefit!). The least you can do is be polite, don’t turn on MY TV without permission and not take the phrase “make yourself comfortable” to the extreme (removing jacket, perfectly acceptable; removing shoes and socks while you wait for 15 minutes—not so much.) And I would have thought that it goes without saying, but um, don’t be f–ing rude to a friend of the girl you’re most likely gonna try to hook up with later (because I will c&ck block you with all of my best efforts).

Being rude includes, but is not limited to: Answering my small talk with nods, only speaking to ask where the shot glasses are, proceeding to nonchalantly smoke pot in my living room, chase aforementioned shot with my last Diet Snapple, eavesdrop on me telling my boyfriend that I have a headache, or suggest that a good remedy for headaches is an intense workout—and that I should try it sometime. Don’t worry, I’ll catch your date up on your rude behavior via text message while the two of you enjoy your evening out.

While I admired their liberal outlook, I didn’t really have an opinion of my own as I, for the most part, wasn’t really booty calling guys or being their booty call. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t as if I didn’t hook-up with guys, I did, but I always found myself in situations where no booty call was necessary. Most of the time, the guy I would be taking home with me that night was right next to me.

Really, it hadn’t been until recently, while living in New York, that I’d gotten my first foray into world of booty calls. At a Christmas party I hit it off with a blonde, blue-eyed cutie and ever since then we’ve exchanged numerous flirtatious text messages. Sure, many hinted at action between the sheets, but while risqué, nothing had ever come of them. Until Saturday night.

At around 2:30 am, just when I was about to go to bed I get a text message from him, “I want to see you.” Ah, the ever notorious booty call, or in this case, text message. Even though I wanted to have sex and knew I could have a safe, uncomplicated experience with him, I debated for a few minutes whether I should even respond. While I could hear my friends in my mind telling me to “go for it” I wondered if texting him back and inviting him over to my place would make me a slut.

In the end I invited him over. OK, so maybe me inviting him over did make me a slut according to the still existent double standard, but the only real thing I could be sure of was that me inviting him over really meant that I was just a girl that wanted to have sex. And sex we had. Straight-up, no-frills sex. It was good, it was satisfying, it was exactly what I wanted and needed.

Yet as much as I enjoyed the sex, I just couldn’t shake the thought in the back of my mind that I might be considered a slut for doing the whole booty call thing. When I confessed this to one of my best friends she said to me, “OK, first of all you’re not a slut and second of all, I am super jealous that you had sex.” I laughed. My friend continued, “You had SEX! Do you know what I wouldn’t give to get laid right now?”

She then proceeded to tell me about how being in Americorps has put a severe damper on her sex life as she’s been living celibate since August. There I was worrying about whether being a guy’s booty call makes me slut while she’s trying to cope with eight months of absolutely no sexual contact whatsover. As a single girl who has been there I could definitely feel her pain, which is why I went for the booty call in the first place because hey, why deprive yourself?

I realized that only I could decided how I felt about my own actions, and only I could decide if they classified me as a slut.

Do I think I’m a slut because I am a young woman who is perfectly capable of safely acting on my sexual desires? No, no I don’t.

And neither do my friends.

So 2007 was ruled by your sex-crazed alter-ego. Somehow she coerced you to collect most of those notches on your bed post.

Maybe it was a new-found freedom or maybe it was your secret desire to experience the “Samantha Jones” lifestyle that spawned the behavior. Either way, you’re ready to put her to rest this year and turn over a new leaf.

Letting go of those sexual patterns won’t be easy; after all, the “Sam” in you is likely to put up a fight.

Regain control by first promising yourself that you’ll lay off the guys for a full month. Make your nights out all about the girls; not finding a hot frat boy to go home with. Worried that you’ll slip up? Tell your friends to keep an eye on you. Above all, give them permission to remind you of your resolution or take you home on account of bad behavior.

If you don’t think you’ll be able to harness “the Sam” with a few drinks in you, then lower the booze intake. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go out at all. A sober view of things may be a real wake-up call.

And while we’re on the subject of calls, absolutely none involving booty. When you’ve successfully made it home without a man at your hip, you may feel lonely and want to invite your latest hook-up over. Don’t! Turn off your phone or go snuggle with one of your roommates.

Once you begin to take action, that alter-you will only be a memory.

I spent this past weekend reuniting with my college girls in Washington D.C. and it was absolutely fabulous. We spent our days looking through pictures, eating Oreo’s and hanging out and our evenings drinking and dancing at various bars around town. It was just like college, except for one major difference.

One night as I was making my way to the bar to re-stock on some Amstel Light, a tall lad struck up conversation with me. We talked as we waiting in the monstrous line and even after we had procured our drinks of choice. He was cute – tall, dark, good jeans – and I was really enjoying his company. But, even being six drinks in, I knew better than to go home with him when he asked.

I didn’t know who this guy was or what his intentions were. I didn’t know where he lived or what his name was, even!

Therein lies the difference between College Lauren and Post College Lauren.

If I were still in school I would have gone home with that boy in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t have considered the fact that he could be dangerous, he could have STD’s or that anything bad could come from the situation at all. I would have trusted him because he was on my campus – in my little bubble – and why wouldn’t I?

And I know I was not the only one doing that.

Now that my bubble is no longer exists and I don’t have that (false) sense of security anymore, I am a much more careful person. I can’t just trust anyone. And I am beginning to realize that I probably never could. I look back at my college track record and can now see that I survived those four years without any serious complications based on luck and luck alone. Just because some dude shows up at my college bar doesn’t mean he is safe. And just because I may know him through other people doesn’t mean that I can’t get a serious disease or, gulp, pregnant.

It was so easy to justify my actions while I was back in school and make it seem like the guy wasn’t that random. But he was. And it just wasn’t safe. Being on a college campus doesn’t make things better, no matter how much we want to believe it.

Besides, taking a man friend home means missing out on late night dance parties and pizza with the girls. And having had the opportunity to engage in both again this weekend reminds me just how amazing they really are.

My personal favorite is called “Booty Call” and it’s a recording of Greg singing “Guess who’s drunk and phoning again, it’s me, it’s me…guess who’s drunk and phoning again at quarter to three…AM…in the morning…don’t do it! It’s a booty call! Don’t do it…”

Then there’s also “Let It Go to Voicemail” and “Delete It.” Perfect for when you know you need some extra reassurance as to why you shouldn’t pick up when that phone starts ringing and you know the person calling is B-A-D bad news. Shear genius.