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Sorry CollegeCandy readers, but I’m not sharing details. All I can say is it was a fun night that involved a lot of alcohol and a we-really-hope-she’s-sleeping roommate situation. Good times. Anyways, while this was something I was hoping to cross off of my bucket list, I never really realized that I was actually interested in women. Did this make me a lesbian? Was I bisexual? Pansexual? Bi-curious? The labels didn’t really matter to me. I just accepted that I like what I like, and that’s okay.

If you allow me to make some broad generalizations, here are my favorite and least favorite things about being with both guys and girls:

Guys: I know a couple guys who are just a little obsessed with the size of their penis.
Girls: I have never in my life heard a girl talk about how she wishes she had a bigger vagina.

Guys: finish, and they’re out of commission for a good 20 minutes to an hour, depending on the dude. Of course, there are other things they can do for you… but does anyone ever really do that? In my experience, when he’s done, the sex is typically done as well. This has always been okay with me, but then I realize that…
Girls: can keep going and going and going and going. I’m actually curious about that — how does girl-on-girl sex actually end? Could we just set a mutual quota of 10 or so orgasms per sack session? Sounds kinda nice actually.

Guys: There’s always that worry in the back of your mind as to whether or not a guy is comparing you to something unattainable – something he saw in a magazine. I’m hot and all, but I’m no Kate Moss. I don’t know how many women’s bodies he’s seen, and I don’t know what he expects to see when he looks at mine.
Girls: To be honest, it’s not often I see a girl who is truly unattractive. I find all women beautiful. But at the same time, it’s kind of nice to see that the girl I’m naked with has cellulite on her legs — just like me, or she gets rolls when she bends over — just like me, and she’s still completely gorgeous (just like me?). It kind of gives you a sense of feeling normal about your imperfections.

Girls: studies show that up to 50% of women fake orgasms. How do I know when I’m doing it right!?
Guys: after sex with a guy, you KNOW you did a good job. There’s um… evidence.

Girls: get PMS. I know because I get it too. How exactly would sex work between two hormonal women? I predict fighting, passionate make-up sex, and then maybe a little post-coital crying. I’m not being sexist, I’ve actually (embarrassingly) been there.
Guys: will never, ever get PMS. Lucky bastards.

Guys: Penis = awesome.
Girls: Vagina = awesome.

See my problem here?

The truth is that there are pros and cons with getting busy with both sexes. There’s a lot to learn from different experiences, and I would totally encourage anyone who’s a little curious about exploring their sexuality with someone of the same sex to go for it. Seriously, if you can find the right person, it’s a good time. And if it ends up not being your cup of tea, at least you can say you tried!

Do you have any same-sex experiences? Please feel free to share! What advice would you have for someone exploring his or her new-found love for the same sex?

This girl looks familiar. Where do you know her from? Did she live on your hall freshman year? No… But you know that face. Those big brown eyes, that curly hair…

Waaaait a second.
You got it.
Yes! You know who it is!

Ruthie.
Ruthie Camden!
The adorable daughter to Rev. Eric Camden that we watched grow up on 7th Heaven.

Yeah, now she’s a 19-year-old sexpot taking promiscuous photos in her bathroom and posting them on the Internet. Not to mention the documented girl-on-girl tongue action. What happened to sweet, innocent, Jesus-loving Ruthie!?

I know what happened. Miley/Vanessa/Lohan happened. So thanks, girls, for ruining yet another young Hollywood starlet. Stay away from Abigail Breslin, bitches.

It all started 10 years ago with a drunken kiss, which quickly led to drunken sex. She was the cool, pretty receptionist at the glossy music magazine where I was interning. But after a few more heated nights together that summer, my gig ended, and so did our trysts. I initially dismissed our encounters as nothing more than clumsy, alcohol-fueled experimentation — little did I know things were going to get much more complicated.

Prior to that fateful fling, I had been straight as a ruler and extremely confident about my figure. I’d always been robust (185 pounds), and proudly so. Constant attention from men — be it coy advances or vulgar catcalls — kept me feeling like a wanted woman. I was certain that my large breasts, tiny waist, and curvaceous hips were irresistible to members of the opposite sex. These assets — in any size and shape — were just so alien and intriguing to them.

Naively, I assumed that connecting with women would feel even more comfortable, like coming home. We are wired the same, after all. But losing my lesbian virginity at 22 actually stirred up insecurities and fiercely competitive body issues I hadn’t known since junior high. Given that our bodies were so similar (shapely, supple, soft), it was like having sex with a distorted mirror image of myself. Not only could I see what I looked like from a multitude of angles and positions, I also saw all of my flaws, reflected, in a sense, in hers (stretch marks, cellulite, jiggly bits). By the time we collapsed on opposite sides of the bed, I had taken enough mental notes to fill an entire spiral notebook: Keep back arched and stomach sucked in at all times; while lying down, bend legs to avoid unflattering thigh spread; whenever possible, sit upright to prevent breasts from running off in opposite directions… Scared straight by the experience, I waited another six years before kissing another woman.

Read the rest at Marie Claire.

[Photo courtesy of hollywoodgrind.com]

Every. single. time I find myself in a room full of boys, the conversation inevitably turns to threesomes (or farts, but that is a whole different article). From the jokes, “Dude, we can totally eiffel tower her,” to the stories, “And then she asked if she could bring a friend!” guys can’t get the threesome of of their minds.

Being that I have never taken part in one (shocking, I know), I never really understood the appeal. After all, sex with one person is fun enough, and haven’t you always heard the old adage, “three’s a crowd”? Why, then, are guys so completely obsessed with bringing an extra body into an already exciting situation? If it ain’t broke (which I can say sex most definitely is not), why turn it into a threesome?

Our resident boy gives us the lowdown.

College and extreme amounts of alcohol go together like Walks of Shame and mascara smudges down the side of your face. What else are you gonna do when the weekend comes? Or when that exam kicks your ass? Or when it’s Tuesday?

And while we at CollegeCandy love to hit the bottle, we do think it’s important to promote drinking in moderation. There is no need to get so drunk you vomit in your hand in the middle of a party. Or get escorted home by your roommates while your other friends search frantically for your skirt. Or wake up on the lawn outside of the dorm…that isn’t yours.

But, if you are gonna do it (and we know you are), at least make sure there are no cameras around, lest you end up like one of these poor souls.

These are the people you don’t want to be. These are the situations you don’t want to find yourself in. You may love the idea of taking funny drunk photos at the moment, but you are drunk and being drunk means making poor decisions.

Do not give in to the urge.

Heed our advice. Listen to our warnings. And don’t let us find you on Flickr and make us say, “I told you so.”

“Ok, so wouldn’t it be hilarious if I pretended like I was going down on you!? HAHAHA! Just make sure you make it look like you are enjoying it. HAHAHHAAH. So good! Everyone is gonna love this!”

Guy 1: “Look at us! We are halfway through Edward 40 Hands and we BARELY FEEL IT YET! We are big and strong men. We will TOTALLY DO THIS!!!”

Guy 2: “Uh, I just realized that I sorta gotta pee….”

Guy 3: “That girl I was trying to impress is over there talkin’ to someone else. And I’m duck-taped. F*ck!”

“Ok, so, like, let’s get dressed up in our favorite pink shirts, straighten our hair and get all cute for the party. And THEN let’s shotgun beers to impress the guys! Oh and can you get a pic of this? Thanks…I have to show my friends my (poor) shotgunning skills!”

“Hahahah! Look at me! I’m working out my inner thighs. <Insert funny sex joke here that really isn’t funny unless you are drunk enough to be doing this on the floor in front of a camera.>”

“Dude, I am the man. I am double-fisting these 4 drinks. Get a picture of this. What? There are only two? Naaaah there are so six. Yo, yo…is the room spinning? Why is my head mad heavy? Did you get the picture? It’s gonna be barf!…. I mean I’m gonna be barf….barf…”

“Look at us and our underwear! We are so sexy! But, seriously. We are all about women’s rights and sh*t. Why doesn’t anyone take us seriously!?”

“It’s my birthday so my friends made me wear this giant sombrero! Ha! It’s so great. I look so cute in it. And look at us doing the whole girl on girl thing! This is what college is about! Make sure you document this. NO ONE’S POSED LIKE THIS BEFORE, EVER!!”

No words necessary.

“Dude! I’ve got the best idea for my new Facebook picture!”

“People think I’m drunk, but would a drunk girl pull down her pants first?!”

“Hahah look at this guy. What a waste of some perfectly good Del Taco.”

“What? Where am I? Where are my shoes? Hhahahahah!! I can’t find my shoes…concrete burn! On my facceee!”

Both the Huffington Post and the New York Times have recently gotten really interested in girl-on-girl action (but don’t worry, this has nothing to do with Lindsay Lohan and Sam Ronson. Absolutely nothing. Seriously. Nothing). They’ve gotten so interested, in fact, that they’ve dedicated whole columns to trying to figure out why it seems like chicks dig other chicks.

Let me break it down for them (and you, if you really don’t know): chicks dig chicks because we’ve been taught to dig chicks.

Why do women seem to have a more fluid sexuality than men – at least that anyone will admit? Because since we came shrieking out of the womb, we’ve seen images of women in every stage of undress – including naked. Advertisements for razors with long, leisurely shots of legs. TV shows that have a mandatory wardrobe of tight clothes and short skirts. A bajillion movies where tits and ass flash across the screen so often that we eventually forget guys even have body parts. Music videos full of bling and boob. Reality TV where hot tubs are as mandatory as microphones. Porn (who could forget porn?). I mean, it’s not an old argument that the media is saturated with the female form.

So why are we all puzzled that girls get a little aroused when they see other naked or semi-naked girls?

I’m no scientist, but if all I saw were images of broccoli strewn over the airwaves for 25 years, I’m sure I’d think pretty differently about broccoli. The media would have formed my appreciation of broccoli. Broccoli would be part of my daily life.

See what I’m getting at?

And in the same way, if tomatoes were also all over the airwaves, but not as prevalent as broccoli, I’m sure I’d be more comfortable around broccoli (in this analogy, tomatoes equal the male form). Sure, chiseled chests and naked guys are around, but brocc – I mean, the sexualized female form – is more prevalent.

Vegetables aside, it’s obvious to anyone with a brain that society tells most of us what to do and how to think, and for 25 years, I’ve been taught to equate the female form with sexuality, pleasure, and beauty.

So don’t get all surprised if my pulse runs a little quicker when I stumble across a nip slip on the internet. It doesn’t mean I’m gay.

It just means society is working.