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.

In reality, though hook ups are common, an increased number of students are identifying as virgins. As much as I love talking about sex, and how amazing it can be, I totally acknowledge abstinence as a legitimate choice. For much of my college life, I was practicing abstinence. Contrary to stale stereotypes, I wasn’t a sullen, judgmental prude waiting for the perfect man to marry me before I gave it up. I was sex-positive, make out-friendly, and always looked forward to Sunday mornings so I could live vicariously through my friends’ recaps of their sexcapades.

Despite my deep interest in sex, I knew I wasn’t ready to engage yet (unlike others). I was waiting for someone I could trust. Someone who would grab breakfast with me in the dining hall a couple of times a week, who would respond to my texts in a reasonably timely fashion, who I could have the “let’s get tested” convo with, who would be there for me if I did get pregnant and would be a source of support for me while I figured out what my next course of action would be.  And I just wasn’t coming across dudes who fit that description.

I’m a sensitive, emotionally-driven woman.  I was distraught when I kissed a guy and then he would proceed to pretend I fell off the earth. The idea of actually having sex with someone who would then refuse to acknowledge my existence was just unbearable to me.  I wasn’t begrudging of my friends who were able to hook up with whatever random cutie they found at the bar, or my friends who snagged amazingly kind guys. I was totally comfortable with the path I chose.

And that’s the most important thing.

Really, whenever you’re having sex, you should be completely at peace with your decision to do so. Abstinence is a totally commendable option for college students. We all have different comfort levels, and none of us should be stigmatized for our personal choices, especially if we’re not harming anyone else.

[Got a Dude itch you just can’t scratch? Sick of trying to come up with a not-totally-crazy-girl way to bring it up to your guy friends and get their take on things? Totally over over-analyzing the cryptic messages he leave on your Facebook Wall?  We got your back, girlfriend. Send your question (Are guys into the LDR?) 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.]

Dear Dude,

My boyfriend and I have been together for about 6 months now. We live about two hours apart but see each other at least once a week for a few days at a time. Apart from the occasional argument, all in all we’re really happy. But there is one thing that’s bugging me… He never wants sex!

For the first two or three months, we didn’t see each other much (every few weeks). But when we were together, we were all over each other and he was very generous in bed. And then when we were apart we would send each other dirty texts etc, etc. However, this didn’t last long. Now we see each other really frequently (spent pretty much the whole summer together) and now it seems like I’m the only one who ever initiates anything, and he often says no when I do initiate. If I start kissing him in a certain way or touching him he asks me what I’m doing, and if he gets turned on he says something like “look what you’ve done!” in a kind of jokey way but it signifies that any activity I was hoping for is over. When I’m flirty or suggestive he just tells me that I’m so cheeky but never responds, and genuinely seems to have very little interest in being intimate. I often feel like I’m almost forcing him to let me do anything to him and  I can’t remember the last time he’s done anything to me.
I would worry that he may not be feeling as attracted to me any more but he is very affectionate, loves cuddling, loves seeing me naked, tells me he loves me all the time and gets really upset when I’m not there. About 6 weeks ago I brought up the fact that I feel that I am the one who initiates sex and he said “I thought this was about more than just sex” and got really offended saying that I was basically telling him that he doesn’t satisfy me. After that he initiated sex once or twice (still no oral sex for me though!) but then things went back to how they were.

The thing is, when we do have sex he tells me how incredible it was, and when I go down on him he makes it clear that he really enjoyed it, so why does he not want me to do it? I really feel that sex is a huge deal in any relationship, and this is causing a big problem for me. I have tried everything (sexy underwear, joining him in the shower, making sure my legs and bikini area are always waxed, etc) but he just doesn’t seem to want me. I really need your help. What can I do?

-Frustrated and Confused.

Dear Frustrated and Confused,

In the beginning, there was sex.

Not “love making” but sex. Like sex, sex. Like, mind blowing, full contact, hardcore f@&king! Then somewhere between 6 months and a year, the pace began to slow. This was inevitable.

Pretty much the amount of sex you have in the first 6 months is the most sex you’ll average weekly throughout the first few years of your relationship. Then, somehow, you’ll find your way back across the bed, in the shower, the couch, the elevator, your office desk, the plane’s rest room, the hotel room, your family’s dining room table…I could go on but the examples will start getting bizarre and physically dangerous (e.g. while wind surfing).

Sex can be cyclical. There’s nothing like it when the fire’s first lit. I know a couple that averaged 5 times a day for their first 6 months. 5 TIMES A DAY! And that was their freaking average. That means they sometimes had sex MORE than 5 times a day! Then they cooled off because if they hadn’t, well, they’d probably be dead now. After I read about your problem, F&C, I consulted this sex-Olympian couple and asked them what happened to their mind-boggling fabulous 5 times a day habit. Their answer: “we knew if we kept it up that much we’d die. And it stopped seeming as important.” WHAT? Sex not important? Are you kidding me? Isn’t sex the most important gauge of a relationship’s health?

The answer is NO! INTIMACY is the most important part of a relationship.

If it’s an FWB, casual fling, one night stand, or a rebound then yes, sex is probably the most important thing because sex is what the entire arrangement is based on. Yes, sex is a crucial part of the start of every relationship. If you didn’t want to have sex with him, you wouldn’t have bothered talking to him let alone “hanging out” with him. That being what it is, a relationship evolves. Eventually, sex isn’t the whole relationship, it’s just 1 of several ways to express intimacy. Now that the sermon’s concluded, let’s focus in on the man who loses interest in sex alarmingly soon.

There are a couple of scenarios to explain behavior like what F&C has described.

He’s gotten gun shy: He’s scared of being able to keep it up and consistently satisfy you. It’s weird, nonsensical, and irrational, but so are a lot of fears. When there’s the expectation that every time you have sex it’s got to be incredible then there’s pressure to perform (I’m not saying you’re putting this expectation on him, most likely he’s doing it to himself). Performance anxiety isn’t just for actors, spies with Intersects in their heads, or Justin Bieber on prom night. Pressure undermines the fun.

He’s gay: Hey, look, plenty of gay men try to pass before they can admit it to themselves. If he’s acting more like your BFF rather than your BF then take a long, hard, look at the evidence.

He’s a “codependent moronic selfish prick”: This is when the guy is only willing to have sex when it suits him. A CDMSP is the type where everything has to be done on his terms. These men are takers.

Pet Peeve: Not giving oral pleasure to women. First of all, it’s a hell of a lot of fun. Not to mention it’s extremely sexy, satisfying, and intimate. If a guy’s not willing to spend at least a twenty minutes down there I consider him a selfish bastard. Especially, if you’re willing to do it for him. Guys like this should have their balls revoked.

It sounds to me, F&C like you’ve done almost everything you can possibly do. You’ve tried addressing the problem, you’ve worked at spicing things up, and just in general have gone above and beyond to be a good partner. I think it might be time to take it one step further. Let him know that if he won’t take your needs seriously and make an effort the way you have for him, well, you might not stick around much longer. Reiterate that it’s not about sex, it’s about intimacy. This is what you need. This is what he’s not giving you.

Love ‘em or leave ‘em, and sometimes, you’ve got to leave ‘em if you’re ever going to be loved.

To the next step,
The Dude-meister

[Check out The Dude's other insights into the male mind right here.]

Yeah, not gonna happen. Thanks.

Sometimes, against our better judgment, we put ourselves in situations that we would rather not be in. Whether it’s too much flirting or too much tequila, sometimes we send mixed signals. One thing leads to another, hands are creeping towards places we don’t want them to go and we realize it’s time to put the breaks on. We need to say no.

Sometimes this is easier said than done. Sometimes there’s that “point of no return,” where it’s just awkward to stay stop – even though no one should ever do something sexually they’re not comfortable with. So, what’s the solution?

For starters, avoiding situations where things can get carried away is a good place to start. Don’t go alone somewhere with someone who you don’t want to fool around with — into a bedroom at a party, for example. Limiting the chances of unwelcomed advances in awkward/private situations, and setting very clear boundaries before getting into that kind of predicament is a pretty good idea too. Saying something along the lines of “I’m only comfortable with _________” or “I’m only going to ___________ with you” is both fair and assertive enough to get the point across.

What if it’s too late? What if things are heading in an unwelcomed direction? We’re told that saying no after a certain point makes you a “tease.” Fine.  Really, ladies, it doesn’t matter – don’t do anything you don’t want to do. Say “no,” say “not right now” (there doesn’t have to be a later), or make an excuse (“sorry, I’m on my period” always works). Make a compromise, if you you want, that’s a pretty easy way out too.

Regardless of what we’re told, the majority of guys will respectfully accept your “no, thanks,” and stop what they’re doing. If they don’t, it’s time to get more forward about what you want. The only people that won’t stop at that point are, quite frankly, criminals (no means stop and not stopping means rape).

Part of being a sexually empowered woman is not being afraid to say no. It’s our responsibility to try to avoid these situations, obviously, but we all know that sometimes one thing leads to another. Don’t ever feel like you “owe” somebody sex, because you don’t. It’s never too late to change your mind.

There are few things more frustrating than wanting to have sex and not being able to. While this sometimes can be self-inflicted (still not getting any, btw), this week we’re going to talk about low libido and the reasons that sometimes women just can’t get in the mood – no matter how hard they or their partners try.

This problem is much more common in women than it is in men (although it does happen in both sexes). While initially this might seem like a slight inconvenience but NBD, ladies that deal with this often feel alone and frustrated. We all think that we’re supposed to be sex machines, and when that just doesn’t happen, it results in a feeling of failure, and even depression. The inability to sustain a healthy sexual relationship can be a real downer if not handled by two people that have an understanding of what’s actually going on.

Of course, sometimes a person just doesn’t have a high sex drive, and that’s okay. Lack of libido only becomes a problem if it’s affecting you negatively or causing problems in your relationship. So are you supposed to grit your teeth and bare it, for the sake of being GGG and to make your partner happy? While this might work for a little while, eventually resentments can kick in and the whole “grin and bare it” thing won’t work anymore.

Before chalking mismatched libidos up to a lack of sexual compatibility, it’s important to keep in mind that sometimes a low sex-drive can be caused by a serious illness or hormonal imbalance that can be corrected with the help of a doctor. So, ladies, here’s a list of possible causes for low libido. Sadly I’m not a doctor and I can’t e-mail treatment to you, so if this is a problem get in to see your doctor pronto – then get back in the game!

Birth control – Yep. While pumping your body full of hormones is great for keeping it without child, sometimes those same hormones can mess with your sex drive too. This will most likely be the first thing your doctor will try to change, giving you a pill with a different hormonal cocktail can help get those sexy juices flowing again. (That sounded wrong….)

Stress, depression, and/or lack of sleep – College life can take a pretty serious toll on our bodies and minds. With so much going on, it’s no wonder that sometimes we don’t feel like doin’ it. Wait it out, eat right, give yourself a good hunk of “me time,” and see if that straightens it out. If not, it’s probably a good idea to see your doc.

Relationship Problems – Whether they are conscious or subconscious, the body knows when something is just not right. Did something happen to turn you off of sex? Is there something you need to talk to your partner about regarding your sex life? Is there something deep-down telling you that maybe the relationship is over?

Drugs/alcohol — Abusing drugs and/or alcohol screws up your system and can often affect your sex drive. Don’t believe me? Quit the drinking/drugs and see if it helps with the sex drive. It’s worth a shot, right?

Genetics – This study found that there may be a genetic link that affects how often we want to get busy. That means, if our parents have a happy, healthy, and frequent sex life, we’re genetically predisposed to having the same. As much as we don’t want to think about our parents all naked and sweaty, this is one time we should hope our parents have a lot of sex.

Other health problems – Like I said, I’m not a doctor. But you can find a whole list of illnesses that can lead to a decreased sex drive. Liver issues, diabetes, and thyroid problems are among the most common, but like I said – see a doctor.

While frustrating and disappointing, often a sex-drive so low that it’s causing you concern is also a symptom of something more serious. Go see your doctor. It’s better safe than sorry, right?

Oh, and while you’re there, why not go for a PAP smear and STI check too?

Close to her 30^th birthday, Anderson sees her ex-boyfriend from college (who she clearly had deep feelings for) walking hand-in-hand into De Beers with his then girlfriend, resulting in their engagement. This incident sparks her year-long contract with herself to remain sexually sober. Why? Because through the shock of her ex-beau’s engagement, Anderson realizes that after years and years of sex: “I’d had enough sex without love; maybe it was time to look for love without sex?”

While the concept for her sexual journey – questioning casual sex in today’s society – seems well-rooted, the delivery of this twelve month personal discovery falls flat. Flirting around topics, Anderson doesn’t really dive into anything; instead she chooses to dance from one thing to another in each chapter. For example, in the chapter “September or Dressing Around,” Anderson embarks on a less-sexualized wardrobe – so she buys a turtleneck. Instead of defining what new clothes will add to her year without sex, Anderson uses the chapter to discuss everything from shopping with boyfriends, high school fashion choices, and femininity. If all of these topics rolled into each other and told the story like it should be told, they wouldn’t seem out of place, but since they are strewn together – the story of her buying a turtleneck gets lost in the midst of everything else.

The entire novel falters at exploring anything too closely. It’s as if Anderson, who has since resumed having sex after the 12 months, didn’t really learn anything. Instead, she just decided to write a book and chronicle this experience that amounted to nothing in the end. If that was her plan, and it was just some lighthearted experiment, Anderson should admit it, instead of marketing Chastened as a life-changing experience for her.

All in all, readers will be scratching their heads at the end saying “What was so special about this?” Even though readers will want to cheer for Anderson to find what she’s look for – which is so clearly an intimate relationship beyond the bedroom – readers will also be questioning whether Anderson truly understood anything in the end.  Memoirs usually reach some grand conclusion, but Anderson seems to come full circle, back into herself – the same Anderson that took the vow to be sexless twelve months prior. Nothing’s changed.

Critics overwhelmingly have hounded Anderson for the flat line ending. However, the LA Times said it best: “As she resumes sex at the conclusion of the book, it’s still all about her, and it’s still loveless.” Ultimately, Chastened is truly an “unexpected story” that chronicles a year without sex for no real apparent overwhelming reason. Reading this memoir is like sitting on a train going nowhere fast  — it won’t get you anywhere.

Thank you to Viking Publishing for generously providing a review copy.

In the world of journalism, that, my friends, is called a question lede. I’m supposed to spend the rest of this article trying to answer that question, but honestly I can’t make any promises. You see, that question has been in my mind for a while now, and I can’t seem to figure it out. Why do people care about someone’s “magic number,” and why is a person’s morality level judged by how many sexual partners they’ve had?

Historically speaking, it’s understandable why chastity and virginity were important. Without any kind of protection, getting pregnant or catching a disease was very much a reality. Virginity was maintained until marriage because no one wanted to catch a disease from their future spouse. Which is fair enough, really.

But those reasons are mainly invalid in modern times; we have condoms to save us from diseased genitals and unwanted fetuses. So long as sex is protected, it really shouldn’t matter how many people have been involved. Sex with multiple partners (not necessarily at the same time…) is often frowned upon as being immoral and looked at as being a “sin of the flesh” – but what is so immoral about it? No one is getting hurt and no one is being damaged. So long as the people involved are consenting and protected, there really is nothing immoral about it.

From a religious perspective, we’re told chastity is important because “every time you have sex with someone, you’re giving a little piece of yourself away. If you continue to have sex, once you get married, there won’t be any of you left.” Well, what Christians seem to overlook is that love causes one to lose way more of themselves than sex does. Every time you get your heart broken – every time you give your heart to someone – that person gets part of you, whether sex is involved or not.  And yet, the faithful don’t warn against falling in love. It’s not a sin to fall in love, only to have sex. But love is much more powerful and potentially harmful than sex. How does that make sense? Oh wait, it doesn’t! And besides, if someone didn’t want to marry you because they thought you slept with “too many” people, is that really the type of close-minded person you would want to spend the rest of your life with anyways?

Choosing not to have sex with multiple partners is a personal choice — and one that is as fair as choosing to sleep around. I’m only offering a different point a view. I’m not saying one should wrack up notches on a bedpost, but I’m also not saying that you shouldn’t. We should have a handle on our own moral compasses, not get them from old-school teachings that tell us that sex is immoral, sinful, dirty, and wrong. If you have so many notches that your bed is barely existent — you are no less moral than someone who has waited until marriage. Believe it or not, who we have sex with doesn’t make us who we are.

Everyone has a choice as to how many people they have sex with. But that choice shouldn’t be looked down upon because it’s immoral or wrong, because it is neither. Keep sex safe, keep it consensual, but don’t keep it up on the nonsensical pedestal where it’s been for centuries. Look at it this way — I guarantee that no one has been on his or her deathbed at 90 years old thinking, “Jeeze, I wish I had sex with fewer people.”

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…

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.]

Much like boat shoes, chambray and shortening words, celibacy is now officially trendy. You heard me: celibacy. Trendy. Totes. Lady Gaga and Courtney Love are doing it. Or, well, not doing it, I suppose. But it’s not only them. According to a new article in the New York Post, bands of women are going celibate, claiming it makes them happy.

One woman who went celibate said it enabled her to be attracted to a “different kind of guy” (maybe one who could actually, finally remember her name and, perhaps, even had a job?!). And that’s just one of the reasons celibacy may have such an optimistic, alluring attraction for all these women.  Here are 5 reasons I can imagine those chaste women are enjoying their celibate selves:

1. You can finally revert back to all those old habits you know think guys would never approve of – like late night eating.
I don’t know about you, but I always skip the late night pizza when I’ve got a guy in tow. And while a little late night nookie is always nice, I always wake up in the morning missing that slice (or 3) I didn’t have. But no sex = more pizza, and more pizza = happiness.

2. No more bikini waxes.
What’s the point? No one’s goin’ down there anyway.

3. The whole damn bed to yourself.
You mean you don’t have to fight for the covers, end up with the entire left side of your body tingling, or feel some guy’s morning “happiness” in your back when you wake up? Happy, happy, happy.

4. Boy problems can finally stop being THE topic of every conversation with your girlfriends.

5. No more Walks of Shame
Sure, the exercise is nice, but I think we can all agree we’d be better off without it.

While I totally see the appeal of chastity, I’m not sure I’m ready to dive in just yet. I may change my mind, however, after next week’s Brazilian appointment.