Admit it. You think about sex. You think about it a lot. Everybody does. But not as many people are willing to discuss it openly. But I will. I have no shame. This is my column, my open forum for as much sex talk as I want to give.
I know there are people out there who may find this column offensive, in poor taste, or even tacky. So if you're not open to sexuality, read no further, but don't claim that I advocate free unprotected love, because this isn't what it's all about.
This column is meant to be fun and enjoyable, as is fully protected sex between two consenting sober adults. I'm not advocating casual sex, but I'm not the biggest fan of commitment either. So if you're curious about the sexual side of college life, then by all means, read on.
It's true that if a girl goes out looking for sex, she gets it. More of us should really consider becoming players.
I'd compare the booty life for the average girl here at UMass to the fine lunch buffet at Pizza Hut. You can keep going up for more, there are all sorts of varieties to try, and if the meat on one piece is not good enough to fill you up, then just try another.
It's also true that being a player is more fun. I'm a junior now and for my first two years at this fine institution, named UMass (which makes me think of getting some ass) I tended towards the monogamous relationships. Well honestly, that was a waste. Now I've smartened up and realized that college and monogamy are seriously incompatible.
I've done away with the ball and chain yanking and complaining to me about who I'm with, why I never came home the night before, and if my gay friend who sees me in my Vicky's lingerie is really homosexual. I'm thankfully through with the feeling of duty, at least calling a boyfriend once a day.
To be sure, I'd rather have my own time for quiet personal thought and reflection. Or maybe to just stare at the shirtless pictures of Josh Hartnett and Eminem I have posted on the ceiling above my bed. I have plans to install a full-length mirror up there too.
But seriously, if I can't get the celebrity men that I desire, there are oodles of men in the fine Pioneer Valley area. See, I have this philosophy that freshmen equals fresh meat. That in no way prevents me from making catcalls to the more pathetic ones wandering the streets late at night when I cruise by with my girls.
On a dare last Wednesday, I tied a red negligee around my neck for a cape and ran over to my neighbor's apartment and proclaimed myself as the booty princess. The males on the floor congregated there, took it all as fun and I now have a free dinner each week courtesy of my girls for the rest of the semester.
I have this competition with this guy I know. We basically make prank calls to people on campus to see how long they'll talk to us when we poll them with our own pseudo-surveys. The guy calls people and starts asking them about their dorm bathrooms.
I call and ask them about sex. Surprisingly, most people were willing to talk to me. Here are the unscientific things that I've learned: guys notice the face, bust, and bum of a girl the most, most people have never had sex in public, but some favor getting wild in their kitchens on the table or counter.
One guy living in Southwest told me he was really aroused when a girl has nice healthy pink gums, but I believe that was somewhat of an abnormal response.
I asked one of my roommates the other day if she thought I was a nymphomaniac. She turned to me and replied, "You ask that as if it's a bad thing."
Oh well, it's fine as long as my mother remains unaware of my carnal desires. Moving me into my apartment she did find my Karma Sutra book, and I believe she chose not to comment in order to avoid embarrassing everyone.
No doubt the rent checks would have stopped coming if she had caught sight of my KY and toy handcuffs. Not to mention my ribbed, studded and colored array of condoms, cause you know anyone with a clue knows those textured ones are the good stuff.
But to be honest, I'm a big girl now, and can do whatever I want within the legal limits. And truthfully, there's nothing I like more than to shake my J-Lo booty and D-cup boobies to my afternoon class and think about putting monogamy off for another decade.
Courtney Charles is a Collegian Columnist
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