Seriously, I can’t keep track of the weekend recaps I’ve heard from my friends who got drunkface and did something with someone that they regret. Whether it’s hooking up with someone inappropriate and disgusting or merely hooking up with someone sooner than expected, alcohol was often the catalyst for Sunday morning woes of despair over brunch. There was recently an article posted on Jezebel that confirmed my suspicions that people often use alcohol as a (wobbly at best) crutch. College culture totally condones drunken sexual shenanigans, and while I don’t want to be all judgmental and conservative, I can’t help but find this trend alarming.

I’m the queen of awkward social interaction, so I totally understand the appeal of drinking until you can’t feel your feelings any more, because it suddenly becomes a lot easier to relate to people. But there’s a difference between having enough drinks to be relaxed, and drinking until you’re making decisions that you don’t even want to associate yourself with. Seeing as how hooking up is intrinsically intimate,  I think it’s something that you should always be capable of consenting to.  The issue of consent is one of extreme importance, because it’s important to be in a state of mind to communicate what you want before miscommunication turns into sexual assault or rape.

On a less heavy note, it’ really doesn’t seem like it’s in anyone’s best interests to consistently engage in behavior they’re ashamed of. It’s not conducive to being happy, and it’s not conducive to feeling pleasure. Sex is complicated and wrought with potential problems, but at the end of the day, sex is supposed to feel good. You shouldn’t feel icky or disgusting. You shouldn’t feel a knot in your stomach. You shouldn’t finish a session and be unable to sleep because you’ve sobered up, realized what you’ve done, and you’re trembling from anxiety and nausea. If you choose to talk about your sexcapades with someone, you shouldn’t use disparaging adjectives to describe how you feel about yourself afterwards. Even if the experience sucked, it should suck because you two were incompatible for whatever reason, not because it wasn’t something you intended or really wanted to do.

I’m not saying that people shouldn’t drink and hookup, or that the only fulfilling life is a sober one. I do think, however, that if you are using anything other than your own desire as an excuse to do something, that’s not okay.

I think it’s safe to assume that after a few years of sexual activity, most people have a few “oh god” stories of bedroom disasters. These are the ones that make it into the “it doesn’t count” category. You know, when something happens that, you know, just shouldn’t have happened.

When you throw two naked and probably a little awkward (or drunk) young adults into a bed together, hilarity and embarrassing moments are sure to ensue. We’ve all experienced it, hell, we may have even been the perpetrators of some unappealing bedroom behavior.

So here it is, a list of the most frequently committed bedroom faux pas to be avoided by everyone. We all know accidents can happen, but let’s do our best to avoid them, shall we?

48 Hour Rule.
I think it’s a pretty fair rule of thumb that no one’s genitals be expected in another’s mouth if personal hygiene has not been tended to in the last 48 hours. No, I don’t think genitals are “icky,” but a good shower seems like common courtesy.

Trash Can Condoms.
If you’re a single lady who is enjoying some NSA booty every once in a while (or a lot, whatever), for the love of all things holy, please empty your trash as much as possible. There is NOTHING sexy about going to throw a condom (or dental dam) in the trash and seeing a previously used one… from someone else.

Lies!
I can’t say it enough, don’t ever fake it. No one likes being lied to, and a bit of an ego bruise is worth the truth. If it’s not happening, it’s not happening — you shouldn’t feel the need to lie about it.

Business Socks.
You can blame Flight of the Conchords for this one, but dirty socks should be taken off before everything else. If your underwear is off, your socks should be too. Also, as my best friend pointed out, make sure the sock you duct tape into your (consenting) partner’s mouth isn’t the same one you’ve been sweating in all day long. Ew.

A rose by any other name…
It’s hilarious as a scene in a rom-com, but in real life, calling out the wrong name is certainly not so sweet. C’mon ladies, keep the Johnny Depp fantasies in your head, please.

The Blame Game.
Sometimes sexual organs don’t work the way they are intended. Penises remain flaccid and vaginas are as dry as the Sahara. That does not give anyone the right to blame their partner for their failure to perform. Just smile, say it’s not working, and flick on The Office. Or better yet, offer up some no-need-to-reciprocate love. Or do both at the same time — everyone wins.

What are the biggest bedroom faux pas you’ve encountered? Let it all out; we’re here for you.

Here at CollegeCandy, we care what you have to say, and want to know what you’re interested in reading about. It was thanks to a comment last week that this article was finally born; special thanks to criolle johnny for the push.

Between my new-found love for feminism, my interest in volunteering at a local rape crisis center, and the incredibly offensive non-consent debacle on Jezebel, the idea and principle of consent has been in my head a lot lately. It turns out it’s not quite as easy as that “no means no” sheet they hand out in health class – there’s more to giving consent than just not saying no.

And that’s where enthusiastic consent comes in. It might sound “cheesy,” but it’s really just a simple way to ensure that the person you’re having sex with actually wants to be having sex with you. I think it’s fair to say that any decent human being wouldn’t want to inflict something sexual on someone who doesn’t want it. Rape is completely avoidable; just make the decision to gain consent before acting sexually. Easy, right?

What we want to avoid is the grey-area in sexuality that has the potential to leave one person feeling violated. We want to create situations where both parties aren’t just going through the motions, but are rather going into sexual activity with enthusiasm.

While it’s as easy as saying “don’t have sex with someone who hasn’t given their expressed and enthusiastic consent,” we have to take a look at what “expressed and enthusiastic consent” means. How do you know if someone really wants to participate in sexual activity with you?

Ask questions. It’s sexy (and responsible) to ask for permission. Asking things like “is it okay if I…?” or “do you want me to…?” is not only a great place to start your dirty dialogue, but it’s also the best way to obtain enthusiastic consent. If your partner doesn’t respond to those questions with “yes!” or something equally as clear, don’t have sex with them.

Are they capable? In a college environment, it’s not rare to be in situations where consent can be made unclear by alcohol or other drugs. After a few drinks, it may be more difficult to remain outside of that grey-area and to obtain enthusiastic consent, but just because it’s a little harder, doesn’t mean it’s not as important. Not obtaining enthusiastic consent, or having sex with someone who is unable to make the decision, is date rape.  Don’t have sex with someone who won’t remember it in the morning. Don’t have sex with someone who is unable to make the decision (passed out, inebriated, etc). And if you need to coerce your partner in any way in order to get consent, don’t have sex with them.

Don’t assume. Just because a person has said yes before, doesn’t mean in any way that you can assume they will say yes again. While Cosmo boasts that “Sagittarius guys LOVE surprises” and you should “wake him up with some mind-blowing oral,” you can’t gain consent while your partner is sleeping, and it is not safe to assume that everyone would be okay with having sexual acts enforced on them while they can’t consent. Unless your partner has said “I think it’d be really sexy if you woke me up like this tomorrow,” they haven’t granted you consent. If you’re only assuming it’s okay, don’t have sex with them.

Be aware. If at any point during your sexual rendezvous something feels off or your partner doesn’t seem into it anymore, go back to step one and start again; ask if it’s okay. If you want to stop, say so. It’s important to remember that consent can be revoked at any time, and it’s the responsibility of both parties to be aware of the moment that happens and to ensure you are both still enthusiastically engaged.  If your partner doesn’t seem engaged, enthusiastic, or “into” it, don’t have sex.

Be clear. I know that many of us are taught that sex is bad and wanting sex is even worse, but it’s so important to make your intentions clear. Say yes, or say no, either is fine, but make sure you’re saying something. While it’s important to obtain your partner’s enthusiastic consent, it’s equally as important to give yours. Be passionate, enthusiastic and clear about what you’re doing or want to do. If you can’t be those things, or you’re having doubts, don’t have sex.

We’re all for sex positivity here at CollegeCandy, but we want to ensure that all sex is safe, sane and consensual. If you’ve been a victim of sexual assault, visit RAINN.org or call 1-800-646-HOPE.

While tirelessly working on a PowerPoint presentation for my Foreign Policy class this past Friday, I was forwarded another slew of slides chock-full of facts, images, and evaluations. However, these were far from academic.

As I clicked a link in the email, I was led to an article detailing one Duke University female’s fake senior thesis, titled “An education beyond the classroom: excelling in the realm of horizontal academics.” Highlighting her late-night (and decently drunken) romps with several Duke athletes, the writer created slides with Facebook pictures of the men, followed by detailed (and rather defamatory) evaluations of their performances.

The fact that this girl slept with a few lacrosse and baseball players isn’t really an issue. I mean, it’s college even the dweeb who has the roley backpack gets lucky during his four years on campus. What’s wrong here is that this woman’s PowerPoint presentation was forwarded to a few friends, who forwarded it to a few other friends, and the thing went viral.

Welcome to the new generation of Kissing-and-Telling.

As the “Subjects” were leaving Shooters or booty-texting Duke’s very own sexperimenter, I doubt they anticipated their experiences being relayed all over the Internet. However, nowadays it seems you never know what to expect after 4am sexcapades. Beyond waiting for that flirtatious banter-sparking text, you have to worry about what is being said to his friends or what pictures could surface of you two going at it in the corner of the bar on FB.

The amount of information that people share about their personal lives via the Internet is insane. And the effects can be tragic. It’s one thing to vaguely or generically share some weekend anecdote, but going into stark detail with names and pictures is becoming more and more common.

Bitter exes, scorned hookups, and bruised egos swamp blog sites with their woes and share embarrassingly intimate secrets while name-dropping their partner. In a state of rage or rejection, people often turn to their computers for a therapy session. And once it’s in print, it’s tough to truly squash its existence after the moment of passion has passed.

It’s one thing to bash your hookup to a few girlfriends over pancakes the next morning. But, it’s a complete other to do it on some public forum. Remember, your (printed/published) words do have repercussions. Not only can you face legal action for defamation of character but you can also genuinely hurt the people involved.

The Duke University student that created the above mentioned PowerPoint embarrassed the people in the document, herself, and her university. Sure, she never knew it would become an Internet sensation. But, in the age of  Gmail, Facebook and Smartphones, something minor can become HUGE in a matter of seconds.

So, before you take to your blog, Twitter, or a blank Microsoft PowerPoint document, stop and think about what you’re doing. If you feel like venting, go to a friends and talk about it, cry about it, laugh about it. But, in the heat of the moment, do NOT blog about it in vivid detail.

Locker room talk happens. Morning brunch gossip happens. People talk, it’s normal. But normal people don’t make 40+ slides. Sure, the PowerPoint presentation was an interesting look into the life of a jersey chaser. But, how would she have felt if the boys had teamed up and responded with a slideshow sharing their own personal evaluations of her performance with each of them. Mortified? Shamed? Embarrassed beyond words?

What do you think? When is too much info just too much?

Alright everyone. I owe you an apology. Last week's article made no sense. Is she done? What happened? Did she mess up? Why is she crying? Just be? What does that mean?? This is really not very man-free!

True on all counts. I was under, let's say, emotional duress while writing last week's article. It was drama llamas all around, and there's nothing more I hate than a drama llama. They just stand there, all high and mighty with their long necks and furry coats, staring down at you and then turning around like they're disgusted with your actions...drama llamas, who needs em?

Anyway scratch what I said last week. Let's talk about what happened this week!

Friday night my peer health internship was doing an event that we do twice each quarter called Snack Attack. It sounds a lot more fun than it actually is. Basically we (the interns) hand out little bags of animal crackers or pretzels to the drunken revelers in the streets around 1o PM on Friday night "to help them feel better in the morning if they choose to drink."

Yeah, I know...

Nonetheless, you learn many things when looking at the meat market that is Friday night through sober eyes, my young grasshoppers. First of all, yes, your skirt IS TOO SHORT! And no, pulling it down every 3.5 steps DOES NOT HELP. Also, ladies, if you choose to fall at any point during your night out, please, please, do not make it in front of your college town's uniformed finest while wearing the shortest, tightest dress and highest heels known to man. If you do, DO NOT attempt to be helped up by your drunk friend (who, in addition to her super-short dress and heels is wearing a walking boot - the kind you wear after breaking your foot!) who of course will proceed to fall ON TOP OF YOU. How you managed to not get arrested in beyond me. But I digress...

Oh yes, lessons learned. In addition to being aware of your wardrobe choices and managing not to fail epically in front of cops, here's one lesson that might actually save you from a little heartbreak, or at least The Clap: guys will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING. If you are drunk, and you are wearing a dress that screams "SEX SEX SEX," and don't look like a complete mess, guys will try to have sex with you. Sometimes they are more likely to try to have sex with you if you look like a complete mess. They will cat call/ hit on/text/ call/ chase after (no, seriously)/ get in fights for/ flirt with/ do shots with/ dance with/ make out and do a lot more with any girl whom they think will let them put their little friend in. Bonus points if you a) won't remember it or b) actually have a pulse.

That being said, I had my own fun Friday night. I wore my short-but-not-too-short skirt and top under my peer health sweatshirt so that I would be ready to hit the parties as soon as the last of the animal crackers had been forced upon given to the revelers. Like clockwork, I drank, had fun, danced, and then proceeded to get hit on. The suspect was a housemate of my friend throwing the party and was a bonafide Brody Jenner look alike. Like I was going to say no? Man-free May or not, he LOOKED LIKE BRODY JENNER. One thing let to another, and "hey, do you want to go take shots in my room?" was on the table. Now, I've been around this block more than a few times, ladies, and I know that when he says "hey, do you want to go take shots in my room" what he really means is "hey, lets go to my room and get you more drunk, talk a little bit and hopefully I'll see your boobs." The truth hurts.

And he did see my boobs. But not much else. Strangely I saw all of him... Even more strange, I just wasn't into it. I was drunk enough to be like, "Sure, I could have sex with you right now, but it would be a lot easier if we just made out and you played with my boobs." Which is basically what happened. And that's all that happened. Then I stayed at the party for a while longer before heading home, without the guy's digits. I know where to find him if I want to, but bottom line: I really didn't care enough to.

So, then, what does this little story say about my quest to be man-free? What have I learned from Man-Free May? Anything? Nothing? What was I actually avoiding? Men? Sex? Heartache? Rejection? Feeling like a dirty dirty pirate hooker?

Even though in retrospect my Man-Free May could've been a little (OK, a lot) more man-free, the lessons learned are not lost. If anything, they were supplemented through interaction with men. At the beginning of this challenge I was still the girl that basically had "LOVE ME" written across her forehead. Week one, I started off feeling free and focusing on me, which was amazing. Week two I started to miss the touch of a man. Week three was drama llama. I can say, though, that by abstaining from dating/hooking up this month I didn't form any suffocating emotional ties to any one guy. If "sex is the glue of God" as my mentor likes to say, I was glue-free for this month, and that was really reallyyyyyy nice. Now I'm not saying that being love-free or intimacy-free is the way to be, it just was for me this month.

The most valuable thing I've learned? Whether it is to be loved, to have nearly no interaction with the opposite sex, to date like a guy or to just have fun, make sure you know what you want. Take time to look at your history of love and sex and figure out when you were the happiest and the most unhappy. Ask yourself why, and what you can do to change that in the future. When you know what you want, you will be more confident and actually more attractive. And that's never a bad thing.

Going completely Man-Free is a big challenge, and I commend any woman who can. But at the end of the month, I know how I feel, what I want, and maybe even what I need.

[Come back next month to follow Jill on her journey to live outside the box and face her biggest fears.]

A good rule of thumb is that whoever you’re having sex with — be it a boyfriend or a friend of yours, constantly ensure there’s a certain level of mutual respect. In following that rule myself, I’ve avoided a lot of really awkward situations and a lot of hurt feelings. But I’ve seen so many ladies in my life (and so many ladies that write for CC) both treat others and be treated like garbage after giving it up. And I gotta stand up and say that it ain’t right!

So many people point fingers at sexual activity as the reason for low self-esteem, but it’s not quite that simple. Even doin’ it, putting your clothes back on, and leaving right after can be a positive experience. It’s not about the sex, per se, it’s about how we feel we’ve been treated during the whole interaction.

As easy as the whole hook-up thing seems, once you’re in it, it turns out it’s pretty murky water to navigate through.  The NSA scene that’s been showing up everywhere horny young adults tend to congregate seems to have killed the part of college culture that encourages us to treat our sex partners with respect.

Yes, sometimes sex happens randomly with people we would not be having sex with if there wasn’t whiskey sour coursing through our veins. But, that doesn’t mean that they’re not worthy of being treated like people. Even if you are “using” someone for sex, it’s typically nicer not to treat them like that is the case. Sure, don’t fake feelings, don’t pretend it’s something it’s not, but there needs to be a certain level of decency.

There’s nothing wrong with casual sex so long as the people involved have agreed that it’s casual. I can’t tell you how many times friends (or myself that one time) have been involved in situations where one person assumes it’s casual and the other assumes it’s leading to more. As most of you have probably realized, I’m a big proponent of honesty, and leaving out something like “I just want to f*ck you, and that’s it” tends to lean not only towards being dishonest but also being disrespectful.

Ladies, if you’re going to let some guy put his P in your V (even if it’s just for one night), make sure it’s someone who deserves to do so. It’s possible to have casual sex while still being honest, mature and respectful. It can be a damn good experience if those factors are involved, and a really sh*tty one if they aren’t.

There’s nothing wrong with saying hello to your Friday night booty call when you see him in the hallways. There’s nothing wrong with starting a conversation at a party with that guy you hooked up with that one time. There is something wrong though, with having sex with someone and then pretending they don’t exist. It’s possible to be decent without seeming like you have ulterior motives. People, even the ones that you take home while drunk, are still people, and they deserve to be treated just as well (if not better) than people you haven’t had sloppy sex with.

When in doubt, just think “what would Tucker Max do?”… and then do the exact opposite.

Nowadays things sure have changed. Replace an AIM sesh with a hungover brunch recap story and the movie theater make-out with a trip to the closest pharmacy for plan B. These are the bases redefined for our college years.

First Base – Everything is getting hot and heavy on the dance floor and the guy  (Matt? Brett? Pat?) you’ve been dancing with for the past hour suggests you step outside for some fresh air. And in this scenario “step outside for some fresh air” means let me suck your lips off on the front porch while we pretend like there’s not someone passed out in his own vomit next to us. Hands and tongues are flying everywhere and at some point you make the call that it’s totally appropriate to let him unhook your bra, just for a second, like a minute, okay…where is your bra?

Second Base – Wow! You really like this guy ( and you’ve narrowed his name down to Brett or Brad) and you’re ready to take things off the front porch and into a bedroom. But you both live at least a five minute walk away and you’re both way too into each other and at peak drunkness to waste any time walking. So what’s a classy girl to do? Time to head down to the ole frat house basement. After all, you’re totally not into PDA and you would rather have some privacy when he jams his hands down your pants and play the whole “does this feel good when I do this? What do you mean it’s not supposed to feel like a tampon is getting stuck up me?”

Third Base – Okay, you just opened your eyes for a second and spotted ten or so decrepit looking pledges lying around on the basement floor. Not exactly setting the stage for romance. You grab his hand and before you know it you’re on his bed. Time sure flies when you spend the whole walk making out and ignoring comments like “you remind me of my ex-girlfriend.” You ask him if he has a condom and he slickly gets one out of his wallet, rips it open, and struggles for ten minutes to put it on. And then like that it’s over and you hear his roommates coming home. He asks if you want to hang out, get high, and watch South Park. It’s kinda sweet but you’re pretty sure you’re going to throw up and you’re pretty sure your beer goggles are wearing off fast. Like, since when did he have a full-grown beard?

Home – And now it’s time to go to home base. Literally, you’re walking home. Although walking is a strong word for what you’re attempting to do so it only makes sense to take off your heels. A little broken glass never killed anyone. You spot another girl across the street walking with her shoes off. You raise your fist in solidarity because you know exactly where she’s been…but look away once you realize that it’s your sociology T.A. It’s been another great night out at college and you can’t wait to tell your friends that you got a home run. Seriously, you should start running because the sun is coming up and you will not want to see what you look like in daylight.

[Everyone's got a morning after story and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we'll post it - anonymously, of course - right here!]

I was living at home for the summer and trying my damdest to survive. All of my friends were either still abroad or doing the internship thing in New York, so I had no one to hang out with besides my parents. And oftentimes they wouldn’t even hang out with me. So I did what any other bored 21-year-old would do – I got a boyfriend.

The kid wasn’t great, but he had some cool friends and he treated me well enough. If anything, it would be just right for 3 months and then we could go our separate ways come Fall. The only problem was, I found him horribly irritating when we were sober. He thought he was sooo funny (he wasn’t), soooo smart (maybe at Jeopardy trivia), and soooo perfect (which he could have been had he actually been funny or brilliant). That being said, most of our time together was spent at the bar.

One night we were at some dive bar with a few of his friends and we noticed the waitresses setting up a beer pong table. We walked over to investigate and ended up getting to play first against his friends. It was $10 a team to play and the losing team paid for both. The winning team stayed on. So we set up our cups and we played. We beat his friends. We played again. We won again. And again. And again. By the fifth game I was pouring my beer on the floor and trying to miss so I wouldn’t have to play or drink anymore.

But we won again.

There were teams lining up to play us, hoping to knock us out, but they never got the chance. One of the bartenders came over, cut me and the BF off and announced that beer pong would be done for the night. I guess they realized that had served two people a bit too much (maybe because I was dancing on the beer pong table between games?) and had to pull the plug before it got too crazy.

So we left. I don’t remember much else from that point – I remember getting in a cab, getting into bed, and a hot and steamy sesh in the middle of the night. The next thing I remember is waking up in the morning in the BF’s bed. He was on the floor…. and I was covered in something icky and sticky. It was all over my arms, it was on my back and it was in my hair.

“WTF is this?” I thought to myself, thoroughly grossed out. “What the hell did I let him do to me last night?”

I pulled back the covers and then it all came back to me: the cab ride to Taco Bell, the screams of “Yo quiero Chalupa” from the back of the cab in the drive-thru, the brilliant idea to eat our feast in bed, passing out before our feast had been finished….

The sexy time.

“Oh my god,” I said out loud. “I had sex with a Chalupa.” Just like me, the sheets were covered in cheese, crumbled up tacos and beef. I climbed over the mess to wake up the BF and found him surrounded by tortilla chips. I woke him up and explained my discovery.

“By the way, why are you on the floor?” I asked.
“I didn’t want to sleep in the wet spot.” He explained.

It was actually salsa.

His room smelled like Taco Bell for days and three months later, as we were packing him up to go back to school, we were still finding taco remnants under the bed. Our relationship ended there and I haven’t thought about him much since, but I never looked at TB the same again.

[Got a Dude itch you just can’t scratch? Sick of getting the pity-eyes as you sift through the Self-Help section at your campus bookstore? Over wondering what those boys are thinking?  We got your back, girlfriend. Send your question over to askthedude@collegecandy.com. The Dude won’t sugarcoat it, beat around the bush, or any other weird cliche that means lie to you. Like a nice, juicy hot dog, he’ll be 100% real beef, 100% of the time.  So bring it on, ladies.]

Hey there,

So. First semester last year this kid and I were kind of “what are you doing tonight” kind of friends, but I always got the feeling that he liked me. Second semester last year, I had drunken sex with him, which I felt bad about, because I had liked him and I felt like I ruined my chances. We continued hooking up that semester. At the end of the year he told me he liked me, but I didn’t take it seriously because he was drunk.

Last semester we were both abroad and didn’t talk. This semester he texted me for a few weeks trying to hang out, but I assumed that he just wanted to hook up. Then we ended up hanging out the other weekend- the first night we just talked for hours catching up and made out, he slept in my room and kissed me before he left the next morning. The next night we hung out too, and I told him I didn’t want to have sex, but otherwise it would have gone there. He told me he liked me again, but I didn’t really take it too seriously this time either because it could have been a “try to change her mind” kind of move. I awkwardly responded I liked him last year, and that I guess I still like him this year. I also told him that I don’t want to do the random hookup thing anymore.

The following week he texted me on Tuesday asking me to hang out for Thursday, which I said yes to. On Thursday, he asked me what I was doing, and told me that he was going to a party at someone’s apartment with friends. That’s it. Saturday night he told me to come pregame with him and his friends, but I had plans. He called me late that night and I didn’t answer.

I have no idea. I like him, but to my knowledge he has not seriously dated anyone in his college career. Also, the two times we’ve hung out recently have been late at night on weekends, which was totally my fault – he texts me earlier in the night when I am generally busy. He is acting differently from last year when we were hooking up by asking me to hang out more and not late at night, to do things with his friends, etc. Basically, I want to date, not hook up. I don’t want to have sex with someone I am not dating, which complicates things because I’ve already had sex with him. Is it possible to start again, and how do I communicate what I want?

Thanks so much,
No Idea

Dear No Idea,

I’m a firm believer that there is no greater invention than: The Time Machine. What better way to apply the knowledge we’ve learned from our mistakes than traveling back and preventing them from ever being made? Life’s so much easier, right? Remember how Hermione saved Sirius Black’s life using the Time-Turner? Marty McFly improved his parents’ marriage (as well as financial situation) and caused Doctor Emmett Brown to avoid his own assassination thirty years later. Whether it’s a remote, a car, a phone booth (the “most excellent” phone booth ever), or the great DeLorean, all you need for your situation, No Idea, is to hop in your most convenient time machine and…oh wait…well, I guess we’ll have to deal with reality.

There’s no reset button in life. Everything that you’ve done has an affect on what you’ll do. In your case, you had drunken sex with a guy you like. This has affected your ability to trust his intentions for, if my calculations are correct, over a year. Not an unfair reaction but be careful you’re not letting your mistrust become unjustified.

You want to date. You’re afraid he wants an FWB. You’re scared to get hurt. You’re worried you’ve ruined any chance at a relationship because you’ve already been hooking up without any strings attached. Well, don’t worry. There’re always strings attached. Sometimes the strings are to not be allowed to ask for more. This comes down to a central question: can you give him a chance? Right now you’re afraid. You’re afraid of getting hurt. You’re worried about his inexperience with relationships. You don’t know if you’ve got more to offer him than sex. Fear clouds facts.

You’ve had an on and off thing going for over a year. You do spend time together doing things other than each other. He’s been expanding the parameters of the relationship you’ve already established by trying to include you with his friends and going out in daylight. These are positive signs.

You know the biggest obstacle to your happiness? You.  Don’t worry, this is the case for the general population of planet Earth. Nothing stands in the way like fear. Fear of change. Fear of pain. Fear of having something to lose. We let fears like these breed caution and create a form of self-protection that serves us up to a point. Then we pass that point, letting these fears alienate us from taking or creating opportunities to grow. If you feel like this guy’s not worth the honesty, then either keep up the status quo until you get bored or he wants to change the rules and then move on. If, however, you’re afraid that you aren’t worth it, then take the plunge. Tell him how you feel and what you want. In five years would you rather be wondering what would have happened? In five years you won’t have a time machine to help you make this decision again. Unless you invent a time machine. Which would be awesome. You should totally invent a time machine.

Gunning it to 88mph,
The Dude

A few weeks ago, one CollegeCandy writer asked if blackout mistakes should be forgiven. In a similar vain, earlier this week, a Princeton student asked if we are responsible for our choices when blacked out. More specifically, when a girl is raped while drunk, is it her fault?

Iulia Neagu, a freshman at Princeton, recently wrote about a(n ex) friend’s claim that she was raped while drunk.  Neagu said, in response to the question of whether or not the friend was responsible for her drunken actions:

“She knew what would happen if she started drinking. We all know that the more people drink, the less likely they are to make wise decisions. It is common sense. Therefore, the girl willingly got herself into a state in which she could not act rationally. This, in my opinion, is equivalent to agreeing to anything that might happen to her while in this state. In the case of our girl, this happened to be sex with a stranger.”

Of course, this girl has been in the line of fire since the article was published, with uproar occurring on both sides of the debate, but the most vocal chorus has been (understandably) from outraged women who believe that this article’s opinion gives men free reign to take advantage of drunk girls.

As a college student who does drink, this article hits close to home.  Of course drinking to complete blackout status is not only a terrible idea, but can be dangerous. Alcohol decreases our inhibitions and too much of it can get us into situations in which we have no control. But does that mean that we are then responsible for being raped? Of course not.

Drunk or not, being attacked or taken advantage of by a man is not our fault. We are, of course, more vulnerable, but our inebriation should not leave us open to attack.  Despite the fact that rape is always a scary possibility for a woman – especially when alcohol is involved – no one under any circumstances deserves it.

But while some people argue that Neagu’s article basically puts all the blame on women and gives men the perfect argument to do whatever they want to drunk girls, I disagree.  Neagu’s point, while harsh, does not say that women are solely responsible for what happens to them when they are intoxicated. Her point is that drinking to excess isn’t good for anyone and often leads to bad decisions that an otherwise sober person wouldn’t make.  I believe her point is that women need to be aware of their drinking and the decisions that they make when drunk. If they wouldn’t do something sober, they shouldn’t be doing it at all.

And that goes for guys, too.

What do you think? Read Neagu’s article here and leave your comments below.