“Are you sexually active?” inquired Dr. Nancy with her beady eyes judging my contraceptive-popping self. What the hell are you supposed to say in that situation?

“Well, you see Nance, I did hook up with my ex-hook up two weeks ago but other than that it’s been quite the dry spell…” Nobody really wants to delve into their complicated lust life with a complete stranger.

This got me thinking, how does anybody really know if they are “sexually active”? To me, activity isn’t all-or-nothing; there are several levels to be aware of. Dr. Nancy, for instance, would abide by the criteria of “hyperactivity.” In other words, if you have ever touched a boy or even really thought about it, you are sexually active for the rest of your life and probably well after you’re dead.

Now no offense to my good pal Nance, but I personally prefer to look at sexual activity like geologists study volcanoes. By this definition, an active girl is one that is currently “erupting” or at least hooks up regularly. What constitutes hooking up is up to you and the righteousness of your moral code. What also is up to you is how you define the term “regularly.” For the sake of escaping the scrutinizing eye of a university nurse practitioner or a Catholic priest, you may choose to equate “regularly” with “every day.” That way you can have no qualms with looking into those judging eyes and confidently stating, “No, as a matter of fact, I am not sexually active.”

For those of you that are like me and (sadly) haven’t gotten any in a while, you may fall under the classification of dormant. You have hooked up in historical times, but you are not currently sleeping with anybody. But not to worry ladies, there is always the promise of future sexual eruptions (thanks, Snoop Dogg). Even the experts say, “The eruption that follows long dormancy is violent.” Hey, you may just be the next Mount Saint Helens of the bedroom.

The rest of us fall into the category of extinct. By definition, extinction implies that there is no evidence of any activity within recent memory. Contrary to common belief, however, this group is not just for the virgins. It may also include those that tend to hook up in any sort of intoxicated state, impairing any and every memory of activity.

No matter which category you identify with, the choice is yours and yours alone. And no matter what, don’t let anyone make you feel insecure about your frequency of eruption, not even your own Dr. Nancy…

Likey? Want some more, you saucy vixen? We got it.

As if women didn’t have to bear enough of the birth control burden: paying for The Pill every month and remembering to take it every day (not to mention all those lovely hormonal side-effects). Now we have the option of purchasing yet another contraceptive and dealing with the discomforts of using it.

Super!

Because there are no other options, like, I don’t know, something men can use? Oh, right – like a condom. But those are annoying and expensive and they make sex feel weird (according to men). Why should guys have to suffer when a woman can just do it all? She’s the one who is gonna get pregnant, anyway; she should be the one taking care of all that business.

And this new female condom (cleverly called FC2: Female Condom 2) seems just so easy to use!

The product is a long, lubricated sheath, anchored at either end by a flexible ring. Upon insertion, the smaller ring surrounding the closed end of the sheath is positioned high in the vagina while the larger ring extends outside the canal and covers the labia.

I can imagine just how romantic it will be when everything has to stop so you can shove a giant Ziploc bag up there. That is if the sight of one of these things isn’t enough to kill the mood entirely. The only plus side to this condom is the fact that you eliminate user error on the part of men. You never can trust them to get those things on right (or at all…you saw Knocked Up!).

But that isn’t enough for me. I am sick of everyone putting the birth control responsibility on the woman. It takes two to tango, so it should take 2 to do so safely. If women are taking care of the pills, then men should be responsible for the rest.

It’s only fair.

1. Will this keep me safe?

2. Will this prevent me from having a baby?

3. Did it break?

A condom is one of those things that you use (a lot, if you’re lucky…and smart), but never really think about. You know which kinds you like (Trojan), you know where to get them (CVS because it’s open 24 hours), and you know that they are a must-have for a night of passion.

But did you ever think about how they are made? (Me either, mostly because I didn’t care. If they are keeping my uterus empty, a drunk monkey could make em.) The entire process is actually really cool and interesting. They check each and every one for leaks! They wash and sterilize them! They fill them with air to test their durability!

Fascinating! Watch the video above. Just know: condoms have never looked less sexy.

We talk a lot about birth control around here (a natural progression from our daily musings about sex). We think its ability to stop babies is pretty badass, but many of us aren’t sure if that is worth all the crappy side effects: headaches, bloat, moodiness, debilitating cramps….We seriously thought we had it pretty bad until we found out that all of our suffering was nothing compared to those unlucky ladies who opted for the birth control patch.

While it was marketed as every woman’s dream birth control option (“Lower estrogen! Lasts all month! No need to remember those pesky daily pills!”), it has recently become every woman’s worst nightmare.

“The patch actually delivered much higher doses of estrogen than the pill; Johnson & Johnson failed to reveal this to the public for six years. At least fifty deaths have been attributed to the patch because of this, with thousands more women reporting alarming symptoms.”

The people behind the patch have been dealing with major lawsuits from patch users who experienced blood clots, strokes and heart attacks!

We love our ability to enjoy sex without the worry of havin’ a baby (and getting those awful stretch marks), but really? Stroke? Death? Does Johnson & Johnson really think women are willing to risk their lives for a little no-strings-attached booty?

If you are on the patch, get off of it NOW. There are plenty of other options for you: the pill, the Nuva Ring, an IUD, condoms, or, the tastiest option, Diet Coke? Just tear that thing off and call your doc. Fo realz.

I have been addicted to Diet Coke for years. I used to start off with a jumbo fountain D.C. on my way to class at 10 AM, followed by another one at lunch and yet another (mixed with rum) for an evening snack. There was nothing on this planet that could come between me and my beloved Diet Coke. In fact, I wasn’t sure there was any way I could love it any more.

But, dear readers, there is: it seems that not only is Diet Coke the tastiest, most delectable treat on this planet….

It is also an effective spermicide!

Oh yeah! You heard me. That stuff you have been drinking by the gallon also happens to be strong enough to kill those little impregnators. Could there be a more perfect beverage? I think not.

Sure, this fact may worry some people (“blah blah how can I put something in my body that is strong enough to kill sperm blah blah blah?), but I couldn’t be happier! Just think of the possibilities:

No need for condoms or birth control when you have a 20 ouncer in the fridge! (Note: not quite sure how one would go about using that 20 ouncer as a contraceptive….) Or better yet, Coca Cola condoms! They taste like Diet Coke (which will make me much more happy to get near ‘em) and have the same effectiveness at preventing pregnancy as a can of D.C.!

This changes everything.