Sex and the Ivy

Party Log: Halloween @ The Crimson

Filed under: Adia, Blogging, Kay, Partying, Rody, SM, The Crimson — Elle October 31, 2006 @ 10:49 pm

On the roof of 14 Plympton, a real-life Aidan said to me last Friday night, “Do you have any idea how much trouble your blog has caused? About 20 people have asked me if we’ve slept together.”

Oops.

I did not arrive to The Crimson Halloween party ready to face the news that I had sullied someone’s name. On the contrary — dressed festively as a pilot, I was more prepared to recruit crew members for the inaugural flight of Mile High Airlines. When I entered the Sanctum, I made a beeline for Kay and Adia who I met up with for all of two minutes before making the rounds. In the process, I became entrenched in several blogcentric discussions.

“In fact, we probably shouldn’t even be seen talking together right now,” continued real-life Aidan*.

Right. I imagine it’d be bad for shoot. Moving on, then.

(*Just kidding. Real-life Aidan would never give me the brush-off. We also slipped out when no one was looking and had mad sex in the FM office.)

Naturally, I ended up in the company of Ed Board boys who like other boys. Rody apologized for ditching me, and SM swore for about the fifth time that’d we’d do tea. Really. I dismissed the notion of a tea date ever happening and reminded the two that they were obligated to attend a grad school function with me on Thursday: open bar mixer with all the graduate school LGBT organizations. Crashing queer events? Story of my life.

I also fielded in-person criticism for the first time. “Whorish” is what the person called an uncomplimentary entry I wrote. Can’t blame him, though the in-my-face confrontation was a bit too much to handle. I would’ve stormed off if I were sober, but I stood my ground drunk and smiled politely at the tirade.

Actually, tirade or not, I probably wouldn’t have stayed at The Crimson as long as I did if I were sober. Without the assistance of six drinks at Mather Happy Hour, it would have been quite awkward to field as many blog-related inquiries as I did. Most of the people I’ve met in the building this year (and that night) already have an inkling of who I am. If it’s a daytime encounter — say in the middle of the journalism fair — shared laughs about the ridiculous blog and polite conversation ensues. But if it’s an acquaintance forged at night, that’s entirely another matter. No one thinks twice about asking inappropriate questions or gushing praise.

In fact, I’m kind of surprised (pleasantly so) that a massive Newstalk thread has not yet happened. Sex and the Ivy is prime discussion material, but I guess I’m afforded some courtesy since I’m a semi-active Crimed myself. It would suck to get trashed on the email list of an organization I belong to. Thankfully, everyone’s displayed an astonishing amount of tact. At least when it comes to email.

In person? Not so much. Especially in the case of a certain AR who met me last Friday and promptly posted a picture of the two of us on his Facebook profile. Other highlights: Harvard’s newest blogger (still underground) offered me a riding crop. A nice boy offered me a cigarette, but I don’t remember who (email me and I’ll thank you!). Someone offered me a a few smacks on the ass (email me and I’ll return the favor to your face). The hottest outfit was an Asian girl dressed as … an Asian girl. The most endearing costume belonged to one FM exec who attempted to pull a Che but looked more like a boy scout to me. A doable boy scout.

All in all, a memorable night in a building I should probably spend more time in. But for some reason, I don’t. The Crimson, especially last Friday, is the epitome of what this blog has done to my life. Everyone knows my name but the reciprocal does not hold true, nor does anyone really know me. I think it’s awfully telling that I left 14 Plympton the same way I arrived: alone.

Best of Text Messages

Filed under: College, Life, Men, Partying — Elle October 30, 2006 @ 6:17 pm

I was wiping out my text messages today when I came across several gems illustrating just how sketchy my life can be. Here are some of the most questionable text messages I’ve received in the past month and a half. Most of these will only make sense/be funny/be mortifying to my roommates. And the people who sent them, obvs.

Most Coercive
“I’m in a car with my friend’s parents. We need ALCOHOL and the stores stop selling at 11, so you have to buy it before then. Work it out.” –ZAP3, Sat Oct 21 9:36 pm

Least Comforting
“Not coming home tonight. Will explain later.” –A slutty unnamed blockmate, Mon Oct 9 2:36 am

Still Not Comforting
“Deliriously happy. Not coming home.” –Another slutty unnamed blockmate, Sat Sep 23 12:06 am

Most Meanspirited
“Nice fall.” –Witness to a drunken slip sent about five seconds after it occurred, Sun Oct 22 1:06 am

Most Justifiable
“You guys are terrible. I hate you all.” –Terra in a mass text message to the blocking group after we ditched her, Sat Sep 30 1:11pm

Most Awkward
“I love you.” –An ex at midnight PST, Sun Oct 8 3:01 am

Least Decipherable
“Lena.” –A socialist, Sun Oct 22 12:59 am

And of course, RANDOM BOOTY TEXTS:

“Let’s get fucked up.” –Random guy I met at the Fly, Fri Oct 27, 9:37 pm

“Hey, you still up?” –An unnamed Matherite, Sat Oct 7, 12:57 am

“Can you come to my room in 10 min?” –Another unnamed Matherite, Fri Sept 29, 12:59 am

“Hi make out buddy!” –Yet another unnamed Matherite, Sun Sep 24, 11:28 am

In conclusion, I live with sluts and sketchy boys who want to sleep with me.

The Truth About My Sex Life

Filed under: Aidan, All About Elle, Berklee, JB, Sex, Sue, Terra, ZAP — Elle @ 3:16 am

Last week at Winthrop Stein Club, someone I met called me a “sex goddess.” Quite the compliment considering that he’s never so much as seen the inside of my bedroom. But I suppose he was making an educated remark, considering that I do write a sex blog after all. Unfortunately, he and most other people have no idea just how stale my sex life is. Other than my roommates, who are privy to what (and who) goes down, no one knows that I’m gunning for Santa’s nice list this year.

The common perception among readers seems to be that I have an uncommonly active and satisfying sex life, that I’m a tiger in the sack, and that I’m always up for more action. If only. While freshman girls have called me their “hero,” “idol,” and “role model” (actual quotes!), the truth is that my sophomore self really hasn’t done anything — or anyone — worth emulating. Believe it or not, my sex life is actually really boring.

I have had sex maybe five times in the past two months, possibly less but definitely not more. The number of partners? A grand total of two, one of whom is Berklee (an ex who really shouldn’t count because we slept together in the most platonic manner ever). Promiscuous? Hardly. Everyone seems to think that my hypothetical bedpost has been whittled down to nothing when it is actually several notches short of scandalous.

What’s even more unbelievable is that I haven’t even indulged in the occasional casual hookup. Apparently, kissing with tongue has became a huge deal to me, because I can no longer handle friendly lip-to-lip action, even when drunk. I’ve turned down every single guy who’s tried to hook up with me this semester, Aidan included. Call me a control freak, but I only let things happen on my own terms. This wasn’t last year’s mindset. Making out with someone never caused such a fuss before, yet the only person I’ve kissed without hesitation so far is the ever-sexy Miss Sue and I don’t think she counts.

Public hookups were my freshman forte, but kissing someone mid-dance floor now seems inconceivable. I don’t even grind with guys anymore. The only dance partners I’m comfortable getting dirty with are either gay (Rody), platonic (ZAP), or so-not-an-option (one of Aidan’s roommates) that my vagina doesn’t feel threatened. In fact, I’ve noticed that I purposely avoid situations where someone might try to hook up with me. Alone with a boy in his bedroom? Rare. Alone with a boy in mine? Never. When did I become such a prude?

Just about the only nights I do have sex are weekends, and usually I’m several sheets to the wind (i.e. drunk). Alcohol is my aphrodisiac, sad to say. Without it, I’d be hopeless. Maybe I have performance anxiety, but I’m just not particularly confident in my sexual prowess when sober, nor am I keen on initiating. But thanks to the liberating effects of liquid courage, I pounce without shame. I’m also much louder than usual — great for my partner, not so great for his roommates or my red-faced self come morning. I never had problems with summoning my inner minx before. Could it be that I’ve actually developed a sense of modesty? It’s a shame.

My blockmates are the ones who should really be writing a sex blog. They’re doing far better in bed than I am. One pal’s still in the honeymoon period with her new boyfriend so I can only imagine the ferocity with which they hook up. JB’s informed me that his sex sessions with the BU beau are quite … vocal. Hell, even Terra’s pulled crazier shit than I have this year. The Brit’s publicly made out with not one but two young gents from a certain club that will remain nameless.

What’s worse than my lack of activity is my lack of desire. Usually, I’m not horny at all. My sexual appetite has been crushed under the heavy weight of my extracurricular commitments. Sleep, not sex, is the prevailing desire nowadays. Even if I’ve got company in bed, I’m more apt to cuddle than I am to fuck. At the end of the night, who has the energy to engage in multi-hour romps when last-minute reading awaits in the morning?

So I guess my point is that my sex life is more myth than truth. To the girls out there: you’re probably better off looking up to one of my blockmates. And to the guys: sorry, I’m afraid I have an early section.

Quotables: Not Just on Halloween

Filed under: Maggie, Quotables — Elle October 29, 2006 @ 5:26 am

Maggie: “Is Halloween over?”
Me: “Nope. Still 72 hours to be slutty.”
NT: “I’d say you have at least two and a half more years.”

On that note, I present this year’s Halloween costume, the captain of the Mile High Club:

Ready for takeoff?

Quotables: Equal Opportunity Bed Partner

Filed under: Academics, JB, Quotables, Rody — Elle October 27, 2006 @ 4:20 am

“Your vagina practices affirmative action.” –JB, the gay best friend

I thought the above quote made a fitting post, considering that I’m currently working on a paper tangentially related to JB’s statement.

The prompt for my eight-page nightmare is: “Can college admission preferences for legacies, athletes and underrepresented minorities be reconciled with a meritocratic system of selection into higher education?” My answer: no, maybe, and yes. That being said, I’m a proponent of affirmative action in all forms, whether it benefits the privileged, the talented, or the disadvantaged.

Or you know, the sexually deprived, as JB implies. I must concur with his sentiment that I don’t really discriminate in the bedroom, at least not on the basis of race (though certainly on the basis of political affiliation). Can’t get into the nitty gritty of attraction tonight (that topic’s going to require far more attention than I currently have to spare), but I will say this: my dating roster is probably the most diverse of anyone I know.

Not that my TF will give me extra points for equal vaginal access. Thus, I am off to bed for a few hours before I finish up organizing the masterpiece that’s ruined my Thursday night. Adieu.

Confidential to Rody: I probably wouldn’t have made our coffee date anyway. But you still owe me face time.

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