The other day, my friend and I were driving to Hudson (Wisco) on a Sunday afternoon to buy some wine.  Yes, that calculation all together means we physically left the state we were in (Minnesota) and cruised controlled our way to Wisconsin so we could legally buy booze. On a Sunday.

Girls gotta do what a girls’ gotta do, okat? Even if that means taking a flashback ride to the high school days – when you would beg someone older to drive the healthy hour into a state where no one else had anything better to do than drink on God’s day o’ rest. Cheers.

Basically, while she sped east and I sat and ate my Uncrustable for breakfast in the passenger seat, we had a chance to get down to talking. And of course, that conversation was about boyz. I immediately assumed it was kosher that we were being desperate about booze and discussing the one thing we couldn’t ever seem to figure out. My roommate and I can relate, we’ve both been single for a while, we both like to go out and have fun and we both like to dish about it. Naturally, our conversation led to something a little sacred in the dating world. Sexay time.

It has been (let’s just say a while) since we’d been “intimate” (for lack of floozy words) with anyone. So we began comparing time frames.

“It’s been a year.”

“It’s been nearly two years.”

And then we looked at each other with the type of fear people save in the back files of their emotions and feelings for jail, court, car crashes, in-laws, and moldy bread combined.  It made a little sense; I had graduated from college a year ago and she, two years.  The time frame of our intimate encounters with men coincided brilliantly with our behavioral habits in school. Is this coincidence?  Or does this mean something more? While I was thinking this, my roommate laid it out into the thin, winter car air-

“Do we stop being so promiscuous during a small portion of our twenties?”

At first, this threw me for a total loop de loop. WHAT? We stop getting busy during the peak of our beautiful lives? We look great, our boobs are purky-purkerton, our skin is taught and soft, we have a thriving drive to reenact scenes in Ashton Kutcher romantic comedies. Sexually, twenty somethings are there. They are well aware of what they want and they will go out and get it. Look at the McDonald’s drive thru on a Saturday night. But are they really…there? Is there a small portion of confidence that isn’t in the stats of a twenty something? Is there a blockade that brims through their lives during a certain age that makes them balk from the possibility of misfortune?

What I’m saying is, I do think there is a small portion of one’s twenties where sexy time with men isn’t as appealing as it had been in say…college (right out of high school). We become more self-aware, we are presented with consequences, we foresee our future, our ‘wants’ blend with our ‘needs’ more efficiently. And sex is not the means we want to take to get there.

This all may seem far-fetched.  I know a ripe batch of twenty somethings having a lot of sexy encounters with men (especially the ones in relationships).  But certain things constitute the loss of action. Ask any single twenty something besides Chelsea Handler or Tucker Max  how often are you doing the dirty? and I bet a ton of them will say, “Not that often, compared to the time after high school when I wanted to explore the mountains of havoc in bed.” Trust me, I’ve seen this among many.

But why? Why aren’t people doing it at a fresh, young age? I won’t begin to compare twenty somethings to an un-ripe fruit, but I really want to. Twenty somethings are in the process of softening up. Unlike thirty somethings (and all the hot chicks in Sex and the City) twenty somethings face so many consequences and they’re not confident enough to sacrifice their undefined selves to make them. Lots of things happen during this time – we switch around jobs, boyfriends, diets…having constant bed favors throws us off. We can’t get pregnant at twenty-three, we need to find a steady job first. We can’t get married at twenty-three, we need to find ourselves first. Twenty somethings don’t hold the capacity of confidence needed to sleep around – without feeling crushed or used and confused. I’m not saying thirty somethings are sluts and dry hump everything that moves (including trees). But thirty somethings have different consequences. Getting pregnant wouldn’t be a complete doozie, nonetheless getting married. They’ve effectively defined themselves – therefore making self confidence and sleeping with people, less of an issue. They are a soft, prepared fruit. [Sorry...]

So…let’s hear what YOU think.  Is there a small portion during an individual’s twenties when they stop doing the dirty?  Now, seriously, I’m ruling out all ya’ll who are in a healthy and stable relationship.  So, let’s be honest this lovely Wednesday. If you agree with me, what’s the reason for stopping the sexy time?  If you think I’m totally off kilter, what’s your reasoning there? As a single girl out of that realm of hope between the sheets, I’m dying to know.

It wasn’t until I stopped having sex that I realized how sexualized everything has become. Every TV show, every movie, every magazine picture, and every song is some way related to sex. To quote Superbad, “You know what kinds of foods are shaped like dicks? The BEST kinds.” It’s true, phallic (and yonic) symbols are everywhere (and a lot more noticeable when you’re not getting laid) – thanks a lot for that, Freud.

I’m going through what some may call a dry spell. While that’s half-true, I’d like to say it’s more of a self-imposed period of celibacy. Spending the last month and a half in my hometown (where there are ZERO prospects, by the way) and slowly-but-surely losing faith in the male species has lead me to decide that making a conscious decision to take a break from sex will save me not only from sleeping around but also from making any spur-of-the-moment bad decisions.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it turns out that going without is not quite as easy as I first expected. Due to my current living situation, it hasn’t only been sex that’s been put on the back burner, but also masturbation and any other kind of physical intimacy (except for those nights when my best friend Emma lets me spoon her… that’s nice).

The thing is, as much as it sucks not getting laid in longer than I care to think about – there is a bit of power in deciding not to have sex. Unlike Josh Harnett in 40 Days and 40 Nights, this decision of mine hasn’t made me want to jump everything that moves. It’s actually made me be choosier about who I want to have sex with.

Maybe the problem in promiscuity lies not in the fact that people are having sex like crazy all of the time, but that we think we need to have sex like crazy all the time. This idea that we need to have sex on a regular basis to keep at bay our primal instinct to bone is the kind of mind set that leads to sleeping around and bad decisions.

I know it sounds like I’m being sex-negative here, but read any of my other articles and I assure you, that’s not the case whatsoever. All I’m saying that being sex-positive isn’t necessarily directly related to having sex. If there’s one thing we can control in our lives, it’s who we chose to have sex with (excluding violent, awful crimes).

So far, this plan has worked out okay for me (in that I haven’t imploded yet or anything). Taking a break from sex can be a good thing, really. And think on the bright side – after a sexy break, I can only imagine how great sex is going to be. Eventually I’ll find someone worthy enough to have that mind blowing back-in-the-game sex with, but for now, I’m okay with not getting any.

Although, some alone time would be nice…

“Dude, you’re single. How do you not watch!?” My friends looked at me in horror. They had favorite sites, saved searches and paid memberships!

I felt a little left out so I spent a bit of time “researching” last night. After a few hours of work I can totally see where the girls are coming from – some of it was quite…er…entertaining – but I’m just not sure if I’m a porn watching kinda gal.

Help. I’m torn.

Love It:
A girl’s gotta please herself once in awhile and the best way to get inspired is by watching other people being pleased, right? I mean, I guess you could just let your imagination run wild, but why should you when you’re just a click away from some really good stuff? You don’t need a boyfriend or a one-night stand; all you need is some porn and a lock on your door and you’re good. to. go.

And it’s also a really good learning opportunity. I consider myself to be an experienced sex-er, but there is always more to learn. There are positions and techniques that I didn’t even know existed until I watched – things the guys in the film really liked – which I will most definitely be trying out when this drought comes to an end.

Loathe It:
Even though I’m doing it in the privacy of my own room, watching porn makes me feel…weird. I’m not some horny 18-year-old boy, so it just feels wrong to bookmark porn websites on my computer. And while I love having sex, the thought of watching someone else do it makes me uncomfortable.

And don’t even get me started on all the inaccuracies present in most professional porns. The fake boobs, fake hair, fake orgasms;  the completely bare nether regions; the totally scripted dirty talk. I get so caught up in critiquing/laughing at half of these videos that I can’t do what I came to do.

And then the ick factor comes back. Seriously, watching porn makes me feel so gross.

I’m not really sure what to think. I want to like porn – mostly because I’ve been single since Palin was tapped to be McCain’s running mate – but I’m not so sure if I can do it. Thoughts?

"This'll teach my boyfriend to call me naggy!"

People have all kinds of reasons for engaging in casual sex. To our generation, casual sex is a college staple, much like after-caf diarrhea and late-night Adderall binges. To youth of the 60s and 70s, casual sex was an act of rebellion and a representation of a new way of life. To the generations before them, casual sex was the devil’s playground and giving away free milk.

I’m not going to debate the morality of casual sex. Everybody has different reasons for “hooking up” and everyone experiences different consequences. There are some reasons for having casual sex, however, that really are just bad news. I know this because I’ve tried most of them… So I decided to put a list together so you guys don’t have to make the same mistakes I have, or some I haven’t.

10 Bad Reasons For Having Casual Sex:

1.    Because you’ve run out of ideas for your weekly sex column. Who, me? Never…

2.    Because the boy you like doesn’t want a relationship. Many girls fall into a friends-with-benefits arrangement hoping the boy will eventually fall in love with them. He won’t. Move on.

3.    Because you’re not sure how to say no. You’re making out with a frat boy in his room after the party has died down. He starts feeling you up, but that’s OK. Then he moves his hands down to your nether-regions. You feel slightly uncomfortable. He starts taking off your underwear and you know what’s going to happen, and don’t really want it to, but aren’t sure how to stop things. You don’t want to hurt his feelings or be a tease or end up in a really awkward situation. It happens to many girls and there’s a simple answer: STOP! Think of how much more awkward you’ll feel during the sex if you don’t really want to be having it.

4.    Because you need to pay your tuition bill and the man from Craigslist seemed nice enough. Or maybe this is a good reason, I haven’t quite tested it out myself…

5.    Because you’re friends are on your case about your recent dry spell. Yeah, it’s nice to share funny hook-up stories the morning after, but it’s not your job to provide them.

6.    Because you’re desperate to get rid of v-card. These days you can auction your virginity off for millions of dollars, so don’t go giving that shiz away for free! But seriously, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. Wait to have sex with someone you feel comfortable with and it will be much more enjoyable.

7.    Because you’re trying to forget about your ex. Casual sex won’t erase those feelings, it’ll just delay them a bit (if anything). The sooner you deal with it, the sooner you can move on. And just think about how awkward it will be when you start crying during the deed. Just wait.

8.   Because you’re mad at your friend and her ex boyfriend is pretty cute. You’ll regret this in the long run, trust me.

9.   Because you’re mad at your boyfriend. “I cheated on you” has never been shown to help resolve an argument.

10.    Because you’re ready to have a baby, goddamn it! It may be cheaper than a sperm bank, but can you live with the guilt?

Have you guys ever had sex for any of these reasons?

Dear god, what have I done to deserve this?!

I’ve been getting rather desperate and even considered drinking alone at a bar last night in order to muster up the courage to bring someone (ANYONE) home. Then I turned on a rerun of The Millionaire Matchmaker, lost my motivation to leave the house, and “took care of things” on my own instead. Again. For the 5th night in a row.

So I can totally understand the desperation and downright carnal need of this Michigan man who was caught and sentenced to 90 days in prison for having sex with (yes, with) a car wash vacuum. Long stretches without any lovin’ can make anyone go crazy…and find vacuums attractive. He just needed to get some, dammit! (And he’d know that “lady” wouldn’t spit… Too far? My bad.)

Anyways, while I can see where this guy was comin’ from, I just hope to god that my personal spell of dryness ends before I find myself spending my nights humping the washing machine in my dorm’s laundry room. Pray for me.

Deep inside of my computer, within file upon file, lies a mysteriously lonely Excel spreadsheet titled “Hit List.” This, my friends, is where I keep a list of every single person I’ve hooked up with. I keep it tucked away as far in there as possible so that nobody, especially parents or siblings, can ever find it.

Some may think it ridiculous, other may think it slutty, but I like to think of it as a responsible way to keep track of one’s sexual partners. There are many reasons and methods to keeping a hit list, and, via extensive research in the field, I have gathered the best evidence out there in support of the sExcel spreadsheet (pun intended).

A wholesome feeling of accomplishment: My friend Meegan periodically sneaks a peek at her list as a means to see how far she’s come over the years. Think of it as the trophy case of hook-ups. If you’re like Meegan and can hook-up without getting attached, it can turn into a way to record “achievements.” It almost acts like an addendum to your “Things to Do Before I Graduate” checklist. Live your lifelong dream of banging your GSI? Add that baby to the list, sit back, let out a big sigh, and bask in your accomplishments.

In remembrance – literally: Honestly, my hit list started as a means for me to record my hookups before I forget them. As time goes on and you find yourself thrown into the college hook-up scene, it becomes a little difficult to remember what’s-his-face you made out with after homecoming. In fact, I am so bad with remembering these things over time that I’ve even broken my list down into tiers – MO (pronounced like it looks and stands for Make Out), “In Between”, and Home Run. Imagine if my Mom found that puppy…

Safety first: Not only does a sExcel spreadsheet function as a method of recollection, it also doubles as a handy phone tree in case you catch something. Call the most recent fellow on the bottom and work your way down until you find the source. I’m not saying that contracting STDs is a good thing, but at least you’ll have a sense of security in case you do. Plus, you’ll even know which tool to blame for your most unfortunate circumstance.

Statistical analysis: Having all of your hook-ups on paper in chronological order is like a financial statement for your sex life. Just like the economy fluctuates in levels of prosperity, your sex life has ups and downs of its own. Going down the list you can see periods of recession (the dry spell) or personal growth (“getting dat fo sho”). Occasionally, there may even be periods of depression, AKA the desperate hook-up. We’ve all been there – the recession becomes so unbearable that something possesses you to call THAT guy. Y’know, the guy that asked to see your boobs before you even ordered dessert on your first date. Hey, don’t worry, it’s happened to the best of us. And if nothing else, you have an excuse to take a peak at that Hit List just one more time…

Anyone else keep a hit list or have another method (Photo album, perhaps?) Let me know!

• Think you’re going through a dry spell? “The average [amount of sex oppourtunities] in the engineering school is probably like once a semester.” Tragic. (Miami Herald)

• The French Prime Minister’s son likes poop. And Facebook! And embarrassing his family! (Telegraph.co.uk)

• “Having women well represented in the corporate boardroom can help improve financial performance.” Maybe with that extra money we can all get paid equally…maybe? (Yahoo!)

• Why is it that I could feasibly post a variation of this story everyday? Stop the madness! (Telegraph.co.uk)

• Some fat guy ate 21 pounds of grits and won $4,000. That works out to be about $190 a pound. It was for the glory, people! (seattlepi.com)

Despite it all, I have been so on top of my game that I haven’t had time to focus on being on top of a guy. Career driven is a good look for me, so a little give and take in other areas hasn’t been so bad…until two weeks ago when the drought finally ended.

Now, you would think getting a little action would spark my creative juices and get things flowing for a slew of sexy blogs.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I have discovered a new form of cock blocking much more frustrating than the times your friends shove you into a cab and far away from the hottie at the bar. This is a literal cock blocking. A cock block on my creativity. And it sucks.

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it, but my brain has taken on man status and can not focus on ANYTHING besides sex. Maybe it was because we didn’t venture that far during our few days of hot hook-ups and my brain has decided to just make up the rest.

If you thought sleeping was hard enough when you’ve got sex on the brain (hello, hot sexy daydreams!), try having to be slightly creative when you’ve literally got a cock blocking your creativity.

Luckily, I kind of like this one (the boy not just his member) so I’m not so apt to fall into bed with just some random to fulfill my nighttime (and daytime) fantasies. With writer’s block you’ve just got to write through it and that’s what I’m trying to do with my creative cock block: accept what I do not have and move forward. And just keep hoping one day all these dreams come to a head.