“I don’t know if we should talk about this…”

“And why not? Everybody has sex!”

“Yeah, but everybody should be making love.”

“Come on, how many guys do you know making love?”

–Salt N Pepa, “Let’s Talk About Sex”

In the past six months, I’ve had sex. I’ve been laid. I f*cked. However, it’s been a long time since I’ve made love, and I kind of miss it. Some people might argue that there’s no difference – physically, they are the same. But emotionally, passionately, and mentally, the two deeds are very different.

1. The First Time.

The first time you make love with your partner, it’s usually a very special moment. It’s often planned out in advance, especially in new relationships. There’s often sensual foreplay, and your bodies fit together perfectly.

If it’s your first time with a new partner and you’re just having sex, it may be spontaneous. Your partner may not be your boyfriend, or even your crush, and the decision to go all the way is frequently a hormonal (thanks, booze!) impulse. First time sex can be sloppy and awkward as you try to find the right position, and after everything’s said and done, it feels like there was something missing.

2. Your BAC.

I’ve heard of drunken sex, but I’ve never heard of inebriated love-making. If anyone has experienced the urban legend of wasted love-making, I’d love to hear about it.

3. The Setting.

If you’re about to copulate in a dim room filled with candles, on a bed covered with rose petals, you’re probably going to make love. If you’re going to do it in the backseat of a car, an airplane bathroom, an elevator, or another compact space that may have legal repercussions attached, it’s sex.

Al fresco sex/love-making is a grey area. Sure, sex on the beach or in the woods may sound like a fairy tale scenario, but dirt in sand in uncomfortable places can ruin the romance.

4. The Soundtrack.

Lovemaking songs include “The Fear You Won’t Fall” by Joshua Radin or “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones (or any cover version, including Mazzy Star, Jewel, or the Sundays). F*cking songs range from “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry to “Every Girl” by Lil’ Wayne. Do you really want to ride someone when the words “You f— so good I’m on top of it” blare from the stereo? Likewise, “Birthday Sex” by Jeremih is a bit tacky.

Sure, there isn’t always music playing when you’re doing it, but if you could have picked a song to illustrate last night’s mood, which would you pick?

5. The Aftermath.

Lovemaking includes mutual orgasms, followed by spooning and cuddling. If you’re in a relationship, your boyfriend’s post-sex behavior could include promptly rolling over and falling asleep, or the phrase “That was great,” despite the fact that you didn’t get off. If you’re single, you’ll take the walk of shame after a long night of sex. In those rare occasions that you’ve made love to someone without commitment, it could turn into breakfast in the morning, a few more rounds, and maybe even a new relationship.

In my opinion (and experience), it’s far more common to have sex than to make love. However, this means that when you do find yourself both emotionally and physically stimulated with a partner you care for very deeply, you appreciate the art of lovemaking so much more than that one-night stand a few months ago with whatshisname.

Any other differences between “sex” and “making love”? Share your thoughts below!

[This story was originally posted by Kathryn S.]

And of course, there are plenty more old faves where this came from.

The random hook up. Probably the only thing more common at a college party than drunk people screaming to Journey. That’s why people are there, isn’t it? That’s why we girls spend hours picking out outfits that are sexy without being too slutty, and risking third degree burns with a flat iron.

We want guys to want us. And we want them to want us now.

I’m a big fan of the random hook up. Obviously, I’d prefer a more constant booty call in my life (read: a boyfriend), but there’s nothing wrong with sharing the milk while I wait for someone to buy the cow. I love the challenge of seeking out what I want (the guy in the worn-in baseball cap) and getting it (in my bed). And quite honestly, sometimes a girl’s got needs, ya know? Sometimes I just need a little pleasure in my life that doesn’t come from the fro yo machine and unlimited sprinkles in the caf. And by “sometimes” I obviously mean “when I’m drinking.”

That being said, I’m not gonna go home with just anybody. I have standards, thank you very much. And just because those standards get a little lower when I’m wearing the beer goggles (which I don’t realize until after the fact, of course; I always think the guy is sexy until I wake up in the morning) doesn’t mean I’m going to do the horizontal mambo with anything that happens to have man parts.

When it comes to hooking up, I like to like the person I’ll be spending the evening with. I know it seems weird, being that we’re only gonna be humping for a few minutes (most likely) and then passing out, but there’s gotta be attraction there. He’s gotta make me laugh as we stand by the keg waiting to fill our Solo cups. He’s gotta have a sexy smile that gives me butterflies. He’s got to be holding a drink that isn’t girlier than mine. He’s gotta do or be something that makes me want to go home with him in the first place. It doesn’t matter how determined I am to hook up, if the guy isn’t offering more than a semi-working penis (thank you, Four Loko), I’m not gonna get with him just because he’s there and/or grinding his boner into my back.

If I just wanted to get off, well, I could do that myself… and not have to do the walk of shame in the morning.

For me, the hookup is about more than just the orgasm. (Probably because hooking up with a drunk college guy rarely guarantees that.) It’s about the excitement of it all, the fun. What’s fun and exciting about hooking up with just anybody? Who can get all hot and bothered for a guy they’re not attracted to in any way, shape or level of intoxication? And who wants to wake up in the morning and have to explain to her roommates why the bald guy with the gold tooth just walked through the living room?

I’m a lady. A respectable lady. A catch. I’m not going to give just any random creature access to this [sweeps hands over body]. What do I look like, a public drinking fountain?

But that doesn’t seem to be the case for the dudes of the world. Check out what they have to say on the subject at CoedMagazine.com.

This is a sad story. It begins, as most of my stories do, with me spilling coffee all over myself. I ducked into the nearest clothing store to pick up a cheap new shirt, and found myself staring at a lime-green, rhinestone-encrusted t-shirt reading “My Boyfriend Is Cuter Than Yours.” Next to it, a similar horror, this one reading “I May Be A Flirt, But My Boyfriend Likes It.” Above it, “I’m A Diva! Just Ask My Boyfriend!” Literally every single shirt on that wall featured the word “Boyfriend.” It was a perfect storm of condescending t-shirt copy. But it opened my eyes a bit.

For girls, having a relationship is not just a fun bonus – it’s practically a requirement. We’re told from birth that it is our job to make people desire us. Being single, in this light, is a violation of the Lord’s almighty commandment to girls: Thou Shalt Committedly Bone. When you break up, there are precious few resources to support your decision.

The fact is, you don’t have to be in a relationship just to be there. And, when a relationship passes, you don’t have to stop having fun. It’s just that being miserable is really easy. I have been guilty, many a time, of taking this stuff too seriously. Having salvaged just enough from these wrecks to learn something, I hereby pass down to you the cardinal sins of the heartbroken. It may not be much – but avoiding these things will, at least, allow you to emerge into your fun new single life without sacrificing your dignity.

1. SEEING HIS/HER FRIENDS

Note the word choice. HIS friends. HER friends. YOUR friends, on the other hand, are perfectly safe. They love you, they want you to be happy, and they will take your secrets to the grave – and that “secrets to the grave” part is going to really come in handy now, because for the next few days you are going to be an embarrassment. Things are going to go down that your ex should never, ever hear about, and mutual friends must be excluded from the proceedings.

Take note: you are perfectly entitled to be ridiculous for at least one week. Personally, whenever I break up with someone, I like to invite a few of my closest friends to a drinking establishment to view a little performance art piece entitled I May Never Have Sex Again / Wow, This Bar Has Hard Floors. This piece has evolved over the years, from its early, minimal stagings (in which I huddled up on my dorm bed, whimpering “but whyyyyyy doesn’t he like meeeeeee?”), to a fuller and more complex work.

To be sure, it still centers around him not liking me (which, by the way: whyyyyyyyyyyy?), but also includes a meditation on the importance of Pat Benatar, a brief rendition of “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” a question-and-answer period focusing on the topic of whether that guy over there is hot, and, if so, whether he would do me, and a discourse on why Manhattans are TOTALLY the BEST DRINK EVER, DUDE, culminating with the inevitable realization that, yes, this bar does have hard floors, and the bar stools are surprisingly unsteady.

This is not appropriate behavior. Sobbing, chain-smoking, refusing to sleep, going without food: these are not appropriate behaviors. These are awful, disgraceful, unseemly behaviors, which also happen to be perfectly natural. Your friends will have your back here, on the condition that you get your act together eventually. Which leads us to…

2. DRINKING

You know what fixes all your feelings? Drinking! Yes, that’s right – you don’t have to be sad a minute longer, because excessive alcohol consumption will solve all your problems!

NO. NO IT WILL NOT. I just lied to you.

All right: this is the part of the article where I talk about Feeling Your Feelings. You’re going to be sad, because your circumstances are sad, and you are a human who experiences sadness. But during the whole “sad” thing, you are supposed to focus on things like healing and self-awareness and learning what you need to be happy. (No, not your ex. Your ex is a douche. I know this stuff. I have fact-checkers.) You are not supposed to be focusing on exciting new hangover-creating technology. Nor should you focus on providing free entertainment for the community via displays of drunken incompetence.

Speaking of which: incompetence. Drunk people make bad decisions. Remember your ex? The douche? Your ex was a bad decision. You really don’t need to make any more of those.

3. MAKING OUT WITH RANDOM PEOPLE

Yeah. See? A bad decision. Caused, in many cases, by drinking. Sadly, some people don’t even have that excuse. To be honest, the idea of rebound hook-ups is seductive – sex can remind you that you’re attractive, available, alive, etcetera.

Also, it fixes nothing.

When you’re over something, you know it. And you don’t do silly things like sticking your tongue into somebody else’s mouth to forget about a person if you’re over them. If your ex (douche!) is still on your mind when you are moving in for the kiss, you must stop immediately. You’re either scanning the field for a replacement, in which case you’re needy, or you’re looking for a distraction, in which case you’re emotionally unavailable.

In either case, you are no fun. No fun for the person you’re with, who will not be entertained by your amazing technicolor bullshit, and no fun for yourself – the idiot who’s being haunted by the Ghost of Douchemas Past when she should be focusing on the human being in front of her.

That said, if you meet someone cute, and you honestly find yourself responding to that person’s cuteness, rather than the fact that he or she has a pulse and a nearby apartment, then go for it. But before you do anything tragic, try to ascertain whether he or she has a) a girlfriend, b) a criminal record, or c) syphilis. If your intended answers yes to any of these questions, it’s time to call it a night.

THE STIRRING CONCLUSION

As I look back over this article, I notice that it is long, complicated, and full of pain – so, basically, it’s just like a relationship. Here’s the good news: now that it’s over, you can go on to other, better articles. Or you can go outside for a walk. Or hang out with your roommate. Or learn the mandolin. Really, there’s no limit to what you can do when this article ends. It’s a chance to start over. Just remember: I’ll always be grateful for the good times we had.

Also, I want my CDs back.

Or, I don’t know…knowing he has a girlfriend?

I found myself in that precarious situation this past weekend. I was hangin’ out when I was approached by a fine specimen of a man. He was tall, dressed really well and his smile made me melt. We totally hit it off and soon found ourselves making out in the bar like we were Freshmen at a frat party.

He invited me back to his place and, eagerly, I obliged.

When we arrived back at his place – which was a far cab ride from my own abode – he went to the kitchen to get some much needed water and I started to look around. And I began to notice a recurring theme: cute kissy photos of him and a very adorable looking girl. Tons of them. Everywhere.

Clearly, this boy had a girlfriend.

He came back out of the kitchen, pushed me against a wall and began grabbing at my dress. I didn’t know what to do. I mean – he had a freaking GIRLFRIEND. What if that was me? What if my boyfriend was out picking up girls? But at the same time, he hit on me. He pursued me. This was his choice, not mine.

And he was such a good kisser.

In my drunken haste I rationalized with myself: my dress was already halfway down around my legs, so there was nothing I could do now. I was way too far away from home to walk. And not knowing the girlfriend made it all OK. This was the boy’s choice, so how could any of this be my fault?

Now that the Amstel Light has left my system, though, I am not quite sure how I feel. I fear the evil wrath of Karma coming back to haunt me and a sleazy cheating boyfriend in my future. I fear that there is no hope for monogamy. And I feel incredibly guilty for waking up in some other girl’s spot the next morning.

I know that this guy is old enough to make his own mistakes, but being the guilt ridden Jewish girl that I am I can’t stop wondering if stopping this sex train was my responsibility. Should I have walked away?

[See what our friends at Lemondrop think!]

Remember when you were little, and your parents gave you that “Don’t talk to strangers” lecture?  Well, approximately a decade or so later, we find ourselves in college. At bars. Talking to strangers.

And by “talking” I mean… letting a few rounds of Patron turn into a one-night-stand. What’s up with that?

Look, I’m not a slut. But I have certainly made some bad decisions. And with one in four college students carrying an STD, it’s really important to follow Mom’s advice.

There are plenty of reasons why it’s best to actually get to know someone before you go home with them. You don’t want to run into any “surprises” in the sack- e.g. you think he’s a nice fellow, until you’re astride him and he’s requesting that you spank him and call him Sally. You also don’t want to feel awkward about things in the morning. Let’s face it, it sucks to wake up to a selfish stranger who doesn’t even care about your walk of shame because he wants to get a few more Z’s, even though he has a car parked right outside and could easily give you a ride home.

And then there are the urban legends. You know, the guys who seem like quite a catch, when in reality they are dating/married/married to five women/gay/a transsexual… you name it. My roommate recently shared the most hideous tale I’ve ever heard. She insists this happened to “a friend of a friend” at work, which leads me NOT to believe it, but you know what? I’m going to share it for the amusement of the many CC readers out there.

A girl goes to a bar and gets wasted. She ends up making out with a dude, something she hardly ever does. The next morning, she wakes up with a rash all over her face. Freaked out, she goes to the dermatologist, who takes one look at her face and demands to know everything the girl has done in the past few weeks. This girl, not normally one to snog a stranger, lists everything except her chance encounter- after all, she didn’t sleep with him. The dermatologist knows she’s lying and keeps pressing until the girl admits to her makeout sesh. The doc then tells the girl to find the guy and go to the police. Somehow, she does (another reason I’m hesitant to believe this), and when the cops go to the dude’s house, they find two dead women in the apartment. The dude has been having necrophiliac sex with his victims, and when he made out with the chick, he passed their dead skin cells onto her face, causing the break out.

WHAT THE F***K???? Like I said, I don’t necessarily believe this story, but it shows that you never know what kinds of skeletons (no pun intended) a stranger has in their closet when you decide to shack up.

Sure, when you’ve been high and dry, and a McDreamy comes along and sweeps you off your feet, it can seem like a good idea to let loose. But sometimes one bad decision can lead to a scarlet letter that lasts forever. Why do you think herpes is (rather sickly) referred to as “the gift that keeps on giving”?

Take mom’s advice. If you are in a well-lit place with your girls, you can share polite convo with a stranger. But don’t go home with him until you know his last name, are familiar with his roommates, and hold no reasonable doubt that he could have a criminal record….or dead people under the bed.

Now I like a man who comes prepared. Like a Boy Scout (only without the weird uniform…or maybe that could be fun). I mean, I’m not going to carry condoms around in my purse; women supply the birth control pill, so it’s up to the dude to bring the rubbers. At least that’s my feeling on the sitch. Besides, my going-out-bags barely have room for my camera, wallet and keys, let alone a box of Trojans.

The topic of birth control is one that comes up often in a relationship – long term or one night – so I wanted to see what the guys were thinking about it. Looks like we’re not the only ones freaking out about babies, ladies!

It’s amazing how universal the college experience is and how readily we all accept it as normal. Talk to any college student on any college campus in the country and you will easily find common ground: in the drinking games, in the fake ID horror stories, in the theme parties, in the hook ups.

It is only when an outsider (Read: An Old Person) looks in and comments on the college scene that we take a second look and realize that our choices really aren’t that…acceptable.

My friend recently sent me this article, in which some old dude jumps into the college scene and reports what he finds. And what was it? Just your typical weekend at any college campus: parties, makeouts, puking, etc. Only, when he talks about it it sounds a lot different than when we share our stories in a typical Saturday morning recap.

To any college student, this article is nothing new (except maybe that whole Girl Goyle thing…I have never heard of that!), but seeing it from the outside makes it seem so different.  So wrong.

When we are sitting in the college bubble, putting a garbage can in front of a drunk person not only seems normal, it seems responsible. But to an outsider, it is ludacris.

To a college student, grinding up next to someone at a college party is the universal sign for interest. But to an outsider, it is almost barbaric.

And how many girls have you seen giving impromptu lap dances to friends at a party? Or making out with some completely random guy at a party for 10 minutes before heading back to her friends? Or blacking out for a night only to get up the next day to do it all again.

It’s all normal, standard and expected as part of the college experience, but it all seems so shameful when seen through the eyes of someone else. I mean, stop and think about it for a minute: why do people to Keg Stands? And why do we devote so much energy into bouncing a quarter into a glass? And why are we so consumed with sticking our tongues into random people’s mouths in a dirty, stinky basement?

College is supposed to be preparing us for the real world, but how often do you think professionals judge their peers based on their performance in a case race?

How did we get here and is it something we should be ashamed of, or just another case of older people just not getting us? Should we care? And, more importantly, have you ever done a Girl Goyle?!

It’s not that I don’t know where time went; it went towards the long class lectures, te bar-hopping, the “Tennis Pros and Golf Hoes” parties, the blizzard sledding (and subsequent frostbite), the jello-shot making, the endless Sex and the City viewings, the random hook-ups, the awkward morning-afters, and the all-day brunch recaps. And while I’ll leave college with amazing memories and textbooks the bookstore refused to take back, I’ll also leave with no idea of what I’m going to do with my life (and how I’m going to afford it.)

So, even though I have an entire semester left, I can’t stop myself from stressing myself into oblivion as I sit in my room with growing anxiety. I WebMD-ed myself to figured out what my problem was and all I came up with was a diagnosis that gave me a month to live. (Sidenote: I have to stop using WebMD.) My mom claims this is normal, my friends are experiencing the same thing, and yet I can’t help asking around for Xanax.

But apparently the health center doesn’t prescribe Xanax as freely as they write out pregnancy diagnoses, so I went with my only other option – blogging – in hopes another senior feels the same way. So every time I have a panic attack about being an adult or a wave of nostalgia that sends me for one last bathroom-tastic meal in the dining hall, I’ll be writing.

We all know that it’s horribly wrong to hook up with your friend’s boyfriend. Or the guy she likes. Or the guy she hooks up with every weekend. But when exactly does a guy from your friend’s past come back onto the market? It’s easy to say that exes are off limits, but in today’s relationship scene, where hooking up is more common than actual dating, it’s tough to draw exact boundaries.

I have a friend who “claims” guys. She sees him, she likes him, she claims him; and that’s it, no one else can ever touch him (even if nothing happened between them).  I have other friends who have all hooked up with the same guys and have no qualms about discussing it with each other. Both of these are extremes — but what makes girls think they have the right to “claim” a guy in the first place? Why should you be able to dictate who a guy you had no serious emotional connection to dates?

The truth is that girls (and guys to an extent) are just jealous of each other by nature.Even though you can see that it’s perfectly reasonable for your friend to hook up with the guy you had a crush on last year, you will probably still feel a little funny about it. Maybe a small part of you wishes that he had picked you — or maybe you have a hard time watching your friend to get what you couldn’t.

So when do you draw the line? Is it selfish to keep someone from your past off limits to your friends just because it will make you feel a little better about yourself? Or is it wrong of your friend to even think about touching a guy you’ve had any history with?

I think it all depends on the situation. For example, if it was a drunken hook-up at a random party three years ago, then your friend shouldn’t even have to ask your permission. If it was a guy you casually dated for a week, your friend should at least give you a heads up so you don’t feel shocked when you run into them together or see pics of them making out at a party on Facebook.

Whatever you do, just don’t pull a Stephanie Pratt and hide your actions from your friends. You’ll just end up regretting it and maybe ruining your friendship. No random hook-up is worth that.

The random hook-up at the bar turns into a passionate relationship — whether titled or untitled is irrelevant. It could have been a one night stand, but because of the chemistry between the two people, it wasn’t.

Think this never happens? Well, you’re wrong. Plenty of my friends’ relationships started in this exact fashion and a few of my own past relationships started in the same manner.

Of course the sparks aren’t always there on the morning after, but you know what, the sparks aren’t always there after long-anticipated sex, either.

Sometimes — and I hate to admit it — but sometimes when you wait to have sex, you are, in fact, making sex the focal point of the relationship. You’re doing the exact opposite of what you’ve intended to do without even realizing it. To some guys, waiting to have sex becomes much more like a game that a foundation for a relationship. You set aside an unobtainable thing for a man to desire and he will, a lot of the time, do and say whatever he can to get that thing…regardless of whether or not it’s what he means inside. Does this have any relevance at all to whether or not the two of you are good for each other? NOPE.

I choose to have sex sooner than later — and always safely. I’d rather give a man the opportunity off the bat to drop his in-the-pursuit-of-sex act and show me who he really is. Who wants to waste months getting to know a guy who is still just fronting because he secretly can’t stop wondering when he’s going to have sex with you? I sure don’t.

But for those of you out there who think a man either A) loses respect for girls who have sex sooner than later or B) gains respect for girls who wait to have sex…I simply disagree. Most of my friends are guys and they have backed me up on this: respecting a woman has to do with WHO SHE IS, not long she makes you wait to f*ck her.

Anyone else agree?

[photo from: redbookmag.com]