Our society’s discourse on sex in incredibly reckless.

From an American perspective, the rhetoric is either, “Sex is awesome, and if you’re not having it, your life fails to have any meaning” or “If you’re having sex, you’re a dirty heathen who deserves to burn in eternal damnation.” This is so dysfunctional, and I really feel it does more harm than good. Many of my columns have taken a very actively sex-positive slant, encouraging safe, consensual, fun, enjoyable sex — which of course I will forever support. However, sometimes I think it’s far more interesting to think about the reasons people abstain from sex.

As I’ve mentioned before, I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 22, almost a year after I graduated from college. Many of my friends also remained virgins throughout their entire college tenure. None of us were prudes – we all enjoyed steamy makeout sessions and poor lapses in judgment just like our friends who were fully indulging in coitus. None of us were remotely religious, and we didn’t engage in slut shaming. There were definitely times in my college experience where, had I chosen to, I could have just done it and crossed “losing my virginity” off the list. And yet, I was never comfortable enough to go for it. I didn’t buy into the idea that losing my virginity was supposed to be a supremely remarkable experience, complete with fireworks, rose petals and dubious in-the-moment declarations of love. However, I knew that I wanted it to be with someone I placed a modicum of trust in, and more importantly, I wanted to be confident that I could make it through the experience unscathed and still comfortable with myself – after my first kiss, I was so anxious that I couldn’t even go to sleep that night. I was overwhelmed with nausea, I couldn’t stop shaking and I felt like I had given away a part of myself to someone who didn’t appreciate it. All of that was following only some kissing and boob action, so of course I was extremely hesitant to bring penetration into the mix. That hangup aside, I was pretty content doing almost anything that didn’t involve a P near my V or my A.

By my senior year of college, I was idly starting to worry. I mean, it seemed pretty strange to leave college still clinging to my virginity, and I was kind of concerned that guys in the future would pick up on my lack of experience and think I was damaged goods (no, I wasn’t evolved enough to realize that a guy like that is not someone I should be interested in banging anyway). I’m really glad I didn’t bow to any external or internal pressure to swipe my v-card just to get it over with, but it worries me to think of how many women (and men) end up having sex way before they’re ready just because of some arbitrary social expectation that they should. Yes, sex is a great thing, but it is also incredibly personal. We all (to be totally cheeseball) blossom at different times, and I wish that virginity wasn’t as stigmatized as it is. Some people are pretty content with being virgins while still leading enjoyable, fun, robust lives (intimate and otherwise), so can we put a moratorium on policing other people’s sexy times?

[Image via Kamira/Shutterstock]

It’s that time of year where we all take stock of our lives, realize we’re hot messes and resolve to change our behavior…for about two weeks. Because while eating healthier, working out more and generally being a more mature person are worthy aspirations that we should all work towards, we would be remiss if we failed to acknowledge that our sex lives could always use a little work. Whether you’re having sex daily, every six months or not at all, with a long-term partner, a FWB, or a one night stand, there is always room to grow and have better experiences.  I mean, if the apocalypse or whatever really is next December, I need to go out knowing that I had the sexiest year to date, so next year, I want to do the following…

1. Stop feeling guilty about my preferences.
Sometimes I’m not in the mood. Sometimes I don’t want to be on top. Sometimes I just want to lay there and enjoy it. Sometimes I want Rihanna playing in the background. It’s totally okay for me to be selfish sometimes, because while, yes, pleasing my partner is important, so is taking my own pleasure into account. This is definitely a balancing act I don’t have down yet.

2. Take advantage of my balcony. 
It would be absolutely criminal to not take an opportunity to have a romantic romp or a tawdry quickie on my private, 18th floor balcony.

3. Try some of the Kama Sutra
I’ve never really been interested in it because I always associated it with bored middle-aged people desperate to revitalize their long-dormant sex lives (ie: not at all arousing). But there must be a reason why this tradition has endured thousands of years.

4. Explore sex toys.
I finally procured my first vibrator this year, but I have yet to be inspired to use it. But I’m definitely interested in trying to enjoy masturbation, and this is the next step that I plan to take.

5. Stop comparing myself to porn stars. 
Occasionally I watch porn with the boytoy, and while occasionally I am inspired to try something new, many times I find myself in a serious inferiority matrix and I start beating myself up for not being as aggressive, or enthusiastic, or as capable as the women in the pornos. I know this is completely irrational – even the “amateurs” are professionals, and I know that I do the best that I can, and am objectively pretty good at it,  but I still find myself getting bummed out about it, and it’s not at all productive.

6. Have fun.
If you regularly read my column, you may have picked up on the fact that I can get really caught up in the political aspect of fornication — the gender roles,  society’s general sex-negativity, all the ways in which sex can go wrong — which sometimes I forget to relax and just enjoy the fact that I am regularly have safe, consensual sex with someone who cares about and respects me.

What are your sexy New Year’s resolutions for 2012?

‘Tis the season to be jolly, to count thy blessings, and to make itemized lists of all the things you want. I used to wish for an easy bake oven, then Justin Timberlake’s hand in marriage, then an unlimited supply of Louboutins…oh, wait, I could still definitely go for that. In addition to a shoe closet to rival Mariah Carey’s (and world peace), I also wish for a shift in our collective sexual culture. We have all the potential to be sexually liberated, but we just won’t let ourselves — as a society — be that great. My ultimate five wishes are:

1. There would be free forms of birth control.

Unplanned pregnancy is awful. Abortion is not ideal. Luckily, there is this wonderful invention called contraception that would greatly decrease the occurrence of both. The reality of the situation is that people are going to have sex because it feels amazing, not always because they want to pop out babies, and our society needs to adjust to this and make contraception as accessible as possible. The risks of unprotected sex are far too great.

2.  Rape would never happen.

Without a doubt, rape and sexual assault are some of the most traumatizing experiences a person could ever endure, and it breaks my heart that 1 in 4 women will experience one or the other during her time in college. We live in a rape culture, where women are expected to always be available for sexual consumption and our language has stripped “rape” of its meaning (you did not rape your psychology final, okay?). In lieu of rape never happening, I would be over the moon if we could stop automatically jumping to the conclusion that all women who report rape are lying, conniving bitches who were totally asking for it because our skirts were short.

3. We could all be sluts, or prudes, and it wouldn’t be up for judgment. 

I don’t care if you’re saving yourself for marriage or for the next guy who buys you a shot, and no one else should either. As long as you’re being responsible, it’s all fair game.

4. Everyone who is sexually active would get tested regularly. 

Most STDs are not a big deal. They can be cleared up with antibiotics and are not any more disgusting than a cold or flu. If we could treat our sexual health like our dental or overall physical health, there would probably a lot less disease transmission, since people would be open about their status. Gonorrhea would be the new strep throat.

5. Everyone would have sex because they want to. 

There would be no having of sex because you feel peer pressure, or you desperately need validation, or because you were really, really, really wasted and you didn’t even know what you were doing for real. Sex should be fun. If it’s not, take a step back and re-evaluate. There’s nothing wrong with abstinence or celibacy.

Basically, I just want everyone to be sex-positive. What’s on your personal sexy wishlish? More orgasms? More kink? Less bad cunnilingus? I want to know!

A couple of weeks ago, my editor forwarded me a fierce press release and asked me if I wanted to interview Dr. Jennifer Landa. She’s a gynecologist/entrepreneur who specializes in helping ladies get their sexy back. She encourages her patients to make healthy lifestyle choices – working from the inside out – in order to have a more fulfilling and exciting sex life. How could I not take the opportunity to talk to someone whose entire career is based on empowering women to have better sex?

Why did you go into your field?
So many of my patients had complaints that were so frustrating to take care of. The tools in my tool box weren’t working well. Hormones don’t address the problems with my patients, anything from PMS to low libido. So many women suffered, but I wasn’t well equipped. I was looking at ways to help patients by studying lasers and injectables. I did more research and came to realize the best way to attack the problems is to start from the inside out. Make changes in your appearance, your energy, your mood through nutritional supplements and through hormonal balance. Better energy, better sex drive, and overall quality of life.

What’s the most common problem your patients face?
Fatigue is one of the most common, as well as inability to sleep, lose weight, and sex drive. 

Do college aged women often have sex drive problems?
I had problems with my libido starting at 28 years old. I do see younger women with trouble with energy and  sleeping, nutritional problems, and a poor sex drive. The biggest problem that causes all these issues is stress. Stress is a sex-killer and energy killer. Improving your stress management and nutritional care can improve your health. Eating fast food is a stress. Keeping your blood sugar more stable and keeping your meals balanced makes a huge difference in college aged women.

Why do sexual relationships go sour?
Especially in terms of women, if we’re not happy with our partner, we’re not going to be amorous. A lot of people don’t realize their relationship isn’t what they wanted. I frequently have women who come in and think it’s hormonal, but they tell me they’re not happy with their partners, sexually. When we talk about it in depth, and they realize they’re not feeling it, I make referrals for counseling. The large majority of the women I treat are in their 40s and 50s, and the novelty as worn off, and you’re busy building your own lives and careers. The biggest most important thing is that couples need to make the time to be intimate. Scheduling date nights and scheduling good sex is important. It’s so unromantic, but everything else in your life is on a schedule too.

What is the anxiety you come across most frequently?

I have to talk to women and couples about the expectation of the orgasm. A lot of women think they’re not having good sex if they’re not having an orgasm, or if they don’t have a vaginal orgasm. The estimates are that orgasms with no clitoral stimulation is at 20 percent. The women who have those are outside the norm. They’re the lucky exception.

Straight from a doctor’s mouth, orgasms are not the end-all/be-all. Take the pressure off yourself to reach an epic finish, and just enjoy the journey. And in case you needed another reason to work out, eat more healthily, take time to relax, and remember your vitamins, just think of how sexy all of those great lifestyle changes can help you feel. If you are interested in more of Dr. Landa’s philosophy, she has a book coming out in February.  I’ll definitely be checking it out,  because if 2012 is indeed our last year on earth, I want it to be sexy as humanly possible.

There are a lot of things about sex that invoke a lot of judgment and pearl-clutching – sex before marriage, promiscuity, STDs, porn, fetishes…and sexting. Maybe this is only my perception, but it seems like sexting is something that people get extremely riled up about. Particularly when sexting goes public. Whether it’s on a monumental scale (see: Kim Kardashian’s entire public career) or a relatively minor one, when sexts get leaked, inevitably there’s a backlash that generally includes some slut shaming and victim-blaming.

Sexting, to me, is part of a natural progression of 21st century flirting and f*cking. Shooting off a text or a photo is an easy way to flirt, add some spice, maintain the sexual aspect of a long distance relationship, and strengthen the sexual bond between two people. There’s nothing intrinsically immoral or offensive about it – it’s just a digital copy of things that people normally do in person. Which basically describes the entire Internet in a nutshell. And yet, for some reason, the act of sexting seems to induce a lot of moral judgment.

Most anyone who sexts operates under at least two assumptions — that both parties consent and are interested, and that no one but the intended recipient is going to be privy to the text/photo/video/etc.  It’s a basic social contract (much like the rules of feminism) So if, for example, you send a gentleman a suggestive photo of yourself, things go sour between you two, and he proceeds to distribute this photo to anyone and everyone, under no circumstance is this ever your fault. Yes, sexting is a risk. Creating a paper trail of sexual conduct can have negative consequences. But so can drinking, walking across the street, driving a car, flying, and basically anything that involves existing as a living being in this world. Of course, it is always important to not trust just any random person you meet and indulge in some cynicism, but part of the appeal of  sex is being vulnerable with someone else. It’s completely unproductive, not to mention totally misguided, to shift the blame from the perpetrator to the victim.

I have been lucky in that none of the scandalous photos I’ve ever sent to gentlemen callers were ever, as far as I know, disseminated without my knowledge, but it is a very real consequence of our digital age. I have many friends who have shared the penis photos they’ve gotten from guys, and while on a voyeuristic level, it’s intriguing, at the end of the day, it’s pretty morally suspect.  Our society definitely encourages oversharing, but for the sake of our collective dignity, we have to have boundaries in place.

I’m always interested in males’ perspective on sexytimes. I ask my boyfriend questions, and I peruse AskMen a lot more than maybe I should admit. I love when guys comment on my articles because they often address issues I wouldn’t have thought of, or have a completely different take than I would have anticipated. Last week, I discussed my low libido, and a guy commented bringing up the fact that men feel a lot of pressure from women to be high performers and we don’t understand when they go through periods of a lowered sex drive. I was immediately struck by this assertion.

As much as I wish I could vehemently defend my fellow ladies, I have to admit that sometimes, we can be pretty rough on dudes. A lot of this stems from our collective sexual culture – there’s the pervasive notion that men are oversexed, horny, always ready and excited to get it in. So when we’re confronted with a guy who’s not, it’s easy to immediately judge him, or question his masculinity. There have been numerous occasions where I’ve had girl talk and we’ve mocked guys for everything from ejaculating too quickly to less than impressive penis size to (and I’m guilty for this one) mocking guys who weren’t as sexually aggressive as we would have liked.

It isn’t fair to reduce guys to, for lack of a better term, sex machines. They are human too, subject to stress, medical side effects and performance anxiety. Granted, if a guy presents himself as being a god of all things sexual, and then fails to live up to the expectations he created for himself, it’s natural to judge him for being a failure. But I don’t think most guys are interested in putting ridiculous expectations on themselves. They just want to have fun, get off and get their partner off. If you encounter a guy who isn’t sexually satisfying you, and you don’t make an effort to communicate your wants (or in the case of a premature ejaculator, invite him to use his hands or mouth to please you), that’s not his fault.

Just as I don’t support slut shaming or guys expecting women to be and act like porn stars all the time, I also cannot condone the idea of putting excessive pressure on men. We should all relax and keep judgment in the bedroom to a minimum.

Recently, I’ve been struggling with my sex drive. Specifically, my utter lack of one. That’s not a problem I expected to confront, as I’ve always had a pretty strong libido. But I had a less than stellar summer – between my quasi-forced celibacy, feverishly searching for a new place to live, my soul-crushing job, and an utterly disgusting diet, I wasn’t at my best. Then autumn arrived, and I moved into a gorgeous apartment with my boy, I came to peace with my lame job, and I started eating better. All the pieces were coming together, but I still founding myself saying “no” to sex far more than saying “yes.” As you can imagine, this didn’t sit well with the beau, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the situation either.

It’s normal for stress to kill anyone’s libido, but beyond stress, I had also fallen into a bit of a depression. Every day, I woke up finding new and exciting ways to hate myself. I blamed everything that was wrong in my life on myself, on my decision-making choices. Subconsciously, I was telling myself I did not deserve to be happy, or to have pleasure, and that definitely extended to my relationship and my sex life. I didn’t believe I deserved my great boyfriend, I didn’t think I deserved arousal or orgasms. I don’t think my story is terribly unique. A low libido, though usually associated with menopausal/post-menopausal women, but it definitely afflicts women our age. Poor mental health, birth control, anti-depressants, physical pain during sex, and bad relationships can all contribute to a low libido. This isn’t an issue that tends to come up, even though it’s common among young women.  Our culture is so hypersexualized and there’s this expectation that everyone our age is either getting it in or thinking about getting it in. So when I wasn’t doing either, I felt isolated and anxious. That anxiety, combined with the guilt I already felt about not wanting to be intimate with my boyfriend, made conquering this problem seem insurmountable.

I was afraid to tell my boyfriend the whole truth about why I didn’t want sex. I would say I didn’t feel sexy, or that I was tired, or that I was premenstrual and nauseous. I was blaming my lack of libido on superficial reasons instead of the fact that I was depressed, that even if I were well-rested and looked like Rihanna, I would have still not been in the mood. Eventually, after he admitted that he was starting to become really unhappy about the lack of physical intimacy, I told him the truth about the reason behind my lack of libido. And he was so supportive. He appreciated my honesty and that I was finally willing to be communicative. He was already aware that I am prone to bouts of anxiety and depression, so it wasn’t the catastrophic discussion that I had imagined it being in my head. Just talking about it helped me feel so much better. Now that I wasn’t hiding anything from him, this wall that had been steadily rising between us crumbled down, and I have been steadily, and without any unwanted pressure from him, getting my mojo back. There is definitely something to be said about being totally open communication.

That said,  not all problems can be merely be talked out. If your lack of sex drive is interfering with your sex life and your personal happiness, you might want to consider seeking advice from a medical professional.

Every once in awhile, I’ll hear dudes lament how handjobs became obsolete past high school. It’s true enough, I suppose. At some point, oral and intercourse replaced the handy. In theory, I totally understand why some dudes miss the HJ – I still enjoy a good fingerbang probably more often than is “normal” for someone over the age of 17. But I refuse to do my part to bring handjobs back. Occasionally, my boyfriend asks for one, and I’ll oblige, very reluctantly. But honestly, they suck. And here’s why…

They’re hard work.
Blow jobs have the reputation for being arduous, but either my hands/wrists are weak, or my mouth is unusually strong. Seriously, within minutes of commencing a HJ, my hand starts cramping, my wrist gets sore and I’m not mentally engaged enough to want to continue. I can’t help but look around the room, think of my grocery list and wonder if Ryan Gosling asks his ladies to endure such torture.

Guys don’t seem to enjoy them that much.
I’m sure well-lubricated strokes are pleasurable (hence why I use my hands during a blowie), but I have never seen a guy have the same kind of glazed over, semi-comatose, “I-saw-Jesus-even-though-I’m-Buddhist,” completely and utterly blissed out look they get during oral. BJs are way more intense, and the payoff is far bigger.

They’re messy.
I’m a swallower. It is a lot easier to do that when I’m already down there, as opposed to having to time it so that everything gets in my mouth instead of on him, the sheets, the ceiling, the floor…you get the picture.

Guys already do it themselves.
Part of the reason why I enjoy a good fingerbang is because I have a less than stellar relationship with penetrating myself, so when a guy manually stimulates me, it’s a totally different sensation than I’m used to. Whereas guys generally create a tight bond between their hand and their penis, and they know exactly what they like and can execute it better than any outsider.

They’re awkward.
Maybe it’s because they’re so strongly associated with adolescence, but every time I do it, I completely lose the sexual confidence I’ve been building up over the years, and I feel insecure, inexperienced and utterly juvenile.

Getting to know someone else’s body is a learning process. Sometimes there’s a very steep curve, depending on level of intuitiveness, experience and communication. Some people can pick up cues far quicker and better than others and all is well, while sometimes…you’re laying on your back, staring at the ceiling and thinking of your to-do list for the next six months. Five behaviors I’ve had the displeasure of enjoying enduring are…

1. Sloppy kissing
Kissing is a truly crucial component of hooking up. In fact, I’d go so far as to call it a crucial life skill. While we all have different kissing styles, and sometimes they won’t align. Things like too much drool, excessive suction and a complete inability to find a good angle are obnoxious to endure.

2. Not wrapping it up
Guys who don’t take responsibility for their role in pregnancy and STD prevention are trouble. Not wearing a condom or pouting about wearing a condom is immature and disgusting. No, condoms are not absolutely ideal, but neither is gonorrhea or a baby. Part of being ready to have sex means being ready to take on the risk prevention that is necessary to have a stress free sex life.

3. A lack of appreciation
I love to feel…savored. When a guy looks like he could easily spend the rest of his life getting familiar with every part of my body, that is super arousing. On the other hand, when a guy looks like he’s phoning it in because he’s thinking about his fantasy football league and is quickly going through the motions, I become equally as disengaged.

4. Insecurity
We all get nervous when we’re nude. That’s totally understandable and normal. But asking every five seconds “Do you like this?”, “Is this okay?” and giving me lost puppy dog eyes is thoroughly unsexy. I used to do this too, and it wasn’t until I was on the other end that I realized how off-putting it is. Communication is good. Constantly needing validation is not.

5. No reciprocation
I love to give head. I truly do. I think it’s fun and I feel totally sexy and submissive when I do it. So it’s not like I only give head so I can get head in exchange. That said…it would be nice.  Some people have a fear of cunnilingus and I get that. The vaginal area is not quite as straightforward as a penis. But how would you ever learn if you don’t practice, right? When a guy doesn’t even make moves towards going down on me, I become incredibly self-conscious. I wonder if I smell or if I taste “bad.” That doesn’t exactly inspire a ton of self-confidence and it definitely doesn’t conjure up positive associations with my partner.

I want your input! What are your ultimate turn-offs?

Up until very recently, I was living with a seriously awful roommate. She was your typical passive aggressive person who refused to communicate and would let issues fester and fester until she would explode in a fit of pure crazy. One point of contention was my boyfriend. Roomie and I shared a big house, but boyfriend and I always kept to ourselves in my room. Of course, since boy and I are both pretty vivacious, we had sex regularly. We were pretty considerate, since the acoustics carried. We’d generally try to avoid doing anything when we knew she was home, or we’d blast the TV or our music, but she still couldn’t deal. (Going to the boy’s place wasn’t an option most of the time because his living situation was even more oppressive than mine.)

So, in an effort to be a decent roommate, I stopped having sex with my boyfriend, regularly, for almost six months. It wasn’t a total sex desert  — we went on a couple of trips during this time (hotel sex is amazeballs), and sometimes he’d go house-sit for his parents when they were out of town and I’d tag along. But, for the most part, my vag was closed for business.

At first, it was miserable. I was resentful and annoyed at my roommate, and frustrated that I couldn’t ravage my boyfriend any time I wanted — like, hello, isn’t that one of the perks of a relationship? But after a bit, I started to enjoy it. Sex can be stressful, especially as someone who is hypercritical, hypersensitive and obsessed with analyzing. I was always worried about my performance, about the way my body looked to him and, of course, the slight possibility of pregnancy or STDs lingered in the back of my head. Sex can also be too consuming — for me, between having it, thinking about it, reading about it and writing about it, sex was almost becoming a mundane chore. Though I do love sex and all the pleasure it brings, it also felt great to feel like my body was purely mine again. There is something about being naked in front of someone else all the time that starts to take a little bit of a toll on my autonomy. I went from going to the gym so I’m attractive for my boyfriend to going to the gym because I really love feeling strong and fit.  I went from looking at my body from a perspective of “How can I use this to please my boyfriend?” to “How can I take care of my body to the best of my ability?”  I am independent by nature, but sometimes I start to lose myself when I’m trying to connect to others.

The best part of my forced celibacy was that my relationship did not suffer at all. We remained just as close as we were when we were boning on the regular, we still did intimate things, and he still called me sexy and hot. Some people perceive “dry spells” as being the end of the world, and I’m pretty sure some people would think that a forced sex hiatus would be the ultimate death knell for a couple, but that was far from the case. It was a great opportunity to get reacquainted with myself (what can I say, I’m a bit selfish sometimes) and relieve myself of a little mental stress.