“My New Year’s resolution is to not have sex with you.” — Summer Guy, January 2007

Though SG is heading to Boston in three weekends’ time, I don’t think he’ll have any trouble keeping that resolution. Besides the fact that a sexual encounter would necessitate large amounts of alcohol, the twin beds at Harvard College barely accommodate happy couples. Bickering exes? Out of the question. Also, since discovering that I’m off-the-market, SG’s already asked if Terra (who he met while visiting London mid-relationship with me) is fair game. I ran the idea past her. After all, we seem to have a habit of sharing men.

In addition to the ever-ingratiating SG, one of my best girlfriends from high school, Cece, is flying out Sunday to spend her spring quarter at Dartmouth (she’s currently at UCSD). My mother has also been hinting for weeks that little sister G. Chen should pay a visit in April — not happening, but nice try. It’s like California has been transported to my New England backyard. How spectacular.

This, of course, means that I actually have to figure out the culturally significant sites of the Boston area lest I have nowhere to take West Coast guests. Off the top of my head, I can only come up with Louis Boston, a couple sushi restaurants, and the MFA. Clearly, I’ve got to get out of my Cambridge bubble more often.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out the details of my next trip home. With New York accommodations and internships undetermined, I may visit Los Angeles as early as June or as late as August. Either way, I’m packing light. I’m not staying for more than two weeks this time. Just long enough a return to do the biannual getaway with high school friends, grab Sunday dim sum with my family, and turn a few shades darker before junior year starts.

Single ain’t so bad on Valentine’s. In the past 24 hours, I’ve traded “I love you’s” with Summer Guy, walked out of a lecture to talk to Sam, and exchanged greetings with a New Yorker I plan on seeing this weekend. I met two boys for the first time (separately, both for coffee), received messages from readers (thanks!), and also managed to piss off Peter via text message. No small feat considering the wonderful timing.

I think it’s fantastic that every guy who remotely gives a shit about me is currently at least 200 miles from Boston.

It’s been a quiet day. Save for my meeting at the Agassiz (I’m producing a show there, can you believe it?) I didn’t do anything terribly productive. I’m sure the weather’s to blame. For dinner, Nate (see left, in better weather) and I went to Tanjore where I ordered Aloo Mutter and lamented my lack of flowers. But what’s really sad is my lack of sex.

I haven’t had sex in a week and a half. I expect to break out into a rash at any second. I suppose I could make a phone call to a local hookup if I really wanted to (and trust me, Valentine’s is the day to do it) but I’m utterly disappointed with the hos in this area code. Then again, pretty much every guy on my current roster — Bostonian or not — has some major failing (be it commitmentphobia or Republicanism).

Just about the only person who doesn’t continually frustrate me is Kyle and that’s probably because my expectations for him are exceedingly low. I was telling my roommates last night that Kyle’s unabashed sleaziness is infinitely better than the shit I encounter from guys like Mark who disappear and reappear at whim or guys like Summer Guy who admit they love me in the same breath they deny our romantic possibility. Kyle may be no saint but at least I know exactly what to expect — nothing.

I think the real cause of my frustrations is the fact that I’ve been playing around with the same five guys since mid November/early December. Like my black leather boots, they’re a season old. But unlike my boots, they don’t complement me better as the winter goes on. If anything, things have stagnated. And by “things,” I mean everything — sex, relationships, conversations, etc. It is February 15 and it might as well be 2006 again. I’m just bored and not even in a self-indulgent, “I have a short attention span, so interest me” kind of way. I’m bored from desperately wanting passion and ending up with excuses about distance and lack of time and youth and bullshit.

I’m tired of bullshit.

Maggie, JB, and I discussed the boundaries of monogamy last night. Both vehemently disagreed that a sexually open relationship could work. But honestly, I see such a clear separation between my physical and emotional needs. The latter can easily be fulfilled at long-distance. The former — though something I’m certainly willing to compromise — obviously necessitates regular interaction. Though I’m quite fond of Summer Guy, I don’t particularly care if he dates or sleeps with other women. It doesn’t make me love him less. The one thing we’re missing is a relationship label, and even then, I can’t tell you if that would dramatically alter the way we relate to one another or my feelings toward physical intimacy with other people. Sex doesn’t mean a damn thing.

I am almost convinced that Sam is this happy medium between all the madness. He’s not in Boston, but close enough for visits. The distance makes him attentive in a conveniently non-intrusive way. He’s older (which I prefer) but a student (which is easy to relate to). Sex is great, even orgasmic. And the big one: he’s emotionally available — almost unbelievably so. Just about his only flaw is his fiscal conservatism, and I’m sure I can fix that with time.

So why am I second-guessing his motives all the time? Probably because I’m more used to 20-something boys than I am 20-something men.

We’ll see what the four-day trip away brings. New York tomorrow night. Philly this weekend if I’m feeling spontaneous. See you Monday, Harvard.

I spent eight days in Philadelphia after final exams ended in late January. Living in an off-campus apartment by Penn, I was practically a college student — just without class to attend. Did I manage to get into trouble? Not much, but here are my intercession confessions …

Jess’ 42nd St. Home

* Flew US Airways for a neat $168 roundtrip. I now have a new appreciation for Logan and LAX after experiencing Philadelphia International.

* Stayed with Jessica Haralson, the editor in chief of Penn’s erotica magazine. Besides stuffing our faces, we did way too much shopping together. We are pretty much co-dependents. Among my consignment store finds were a Laundry dress, Louis Vuitton purse, and two coats!

* Caught up with my favorite DP editor, Eric Obenzinger, over sushi at Genji and apple martinis somewhere random. No, I have not slept with him yet, though I assume the repeated inquiries mean people are cheering me on.

* Ate entirely too much sushi. Besides dining hall fare and Genji, I had highly affordable Mizu ($6 for 12 pieces is unheard of) and enjoyed the setting at Nara. Food at both was so-so but sitting shoeless on the floor at Nara (with its faux-Japanese decor) was pretty fun.

With JGH at Gay Fridays at Cliff’s

* Attended Gay Fridays at Cliff’s (GFAC), a long-standing Penn tradition and a chance for equal opportunity drunkeness. Though overrun with more friends of Converse (i.e. hipsters) than friends of Dorothy, it was nonetheless one of the better parties I’ve witnessed in recent memory. If only the cute guys weren’t after the other cute guys. Regardless, I met quite the cute girl there — too bad our schedules never aligned.

* Managed to make my relationship with Summer Guy worse. The beauty of time zones is that his California 3 a.m. is my Philadelphia 6 a.m. The beauty of alcohol is that it induces exes to accuse you of having STDs. By the end of my Philly visit, he told me that his trip to Boston was a no-go. Saw it coming.

* Passed up, tried to land, and flirted with the idea of a threesome. Despite three separate opportunities, nothing came to fruition. The mission continues …

* Hit up Naked Chocolate Cafe with Jessica and my high school pal Judy (who now attends University of the Sciences). It was Philly’s answer to LA Burdick. I think I still prefer the latter but the former comes highly recommended — chocolate lovers will go nuts at first sip. I prefer the bittersweet.

Treats at Naked Chocolate Cafe

* Had lunch at White Dog Cafe with Jennifer Glaser, the author of one of my favorite Modern Love columns. While scouring the Times for a good example of Modern Love, I reread her piece, found out Jennifer was a grad student at Penn, and immediately hunted her down. Published on my birthday this year, her essay (”Mortality Can Be A Powerful Aphrodisiac”) is about the sexual relationship between her and her dying boyfriend.

* Dragged Miss Jessica over to Pattaya for Thai cuisine, mostly because I met the owner while picking up takeout dinner and thought he ought to be dessert. Alas, he wasn’t there, but I decided to be bold and left him my number. (Okay, so he did say he had a girlfriend.)

* Despite sleeping until noon, I managed to finish and submit my first piece to The Boston Globe. We’ll see if they like my youthful perspective.

Baby’s First Cheesesteak

* Had a taste of my first Philly Cheesesteak! Jessica’s guy pal took us to his favorite tried-and-true eatery. I got the classic and finished half before calling it quits. My meal was good for the novelty but had way too much meat to become it a regular part of my diet. (Now don’t think dirty, kids.)

* Promised to swear off guys with commitmentphobia, yellow fever, and girlfriends. Failed on all accounts.

* Hung out with a pal who’s visiting Penn for a semester. She’s enrolled in the visiting student program I want to apply to. Caught up while taking a meal in the dining hall — in case you were wondering, the food is unimpressive, just like Harvard.

* Took a stroll through South St. with Jessica by my side. She gave me a tour of all the notable sex shops and I came home with a new toy — a black leather riding crop. Fun!

* Discovered a hidden love for groceries. Thanks to the fabulous proximity, Fresh Grocer became my home away from my home away from home (did that make sense?) I’ve since decided that a major supermarket must relocate to the Square.

* Had a weekend affair with Sam — acronym for Secret Agent Man. Adventures included: nursing mutual hangovers via afternoon coffee, attempting to eat dinner at 4pm (and mostly failing but settling on Indian), hitting on my bartender at Smoke’s, consuming seven spiked Shirley Temples (my new favorite drink), trying to convince him to have sex in public after the alcohol took its toll, passing out with little recollection of my whereabouts, and having way too much sex (the afternoon, evening, the morning after …) He was fun, romantic, and a gentleman. Couldn’t ask for a better or more well-endowed late-night escort.

Thoroughly enjoyed Philadelphia and all it had to offer! Adia has a pal at Penn so we’re thinking of a joint trip sometime this spring. Could be fun to hit the town with her in tow. And now that I’ve graced its streets, Philly’s love has got to be just a little less fraternal, don’t you think?

* Enjoying my last couple days in Philadelphia, where I’m staying with le sexy Jessica Gold Haralson (see right) and hanging with all the cool kids at Penn. Hot student journalist Eric Obenzinger told me that ever since I linked to his Facebook profile, the page has skyrocketed in Google searches. Ladies, friend him.

* Just got nominated for the 2007 Bloggies as a finalist for Best Teen Weblog. Show your love by submitting a vote! And if you haven’t voted for the Sex Blog Awards yet, click on the graphic on my sidebar. Both end Thursday!

* Suffering through a severe case of writer’s block. Been trying to finish two freelance assignments for the past month and have gotten nowhere. My first CollegeHumor piece (still to-be-written) debuts in a week. I’m also toying with the idea of submitting for “In Their Own Words”, a production put on by Harvard’s Women’s Center. Waiting for a creative breakthrough, perhaps in the form of …

* An intercession fling in Philly! Sam, who I met this weekend, is unconventional but a sweetheart … exactly what I need to cure mid-winter monotomy. Thanks to Jess and him, I’ll carry fond memories of Penn: great dessert with the former (love the bitter chocolate gelato at Capogiro) and fantastic sex with the latter (love, well …) I’ll write the full chronicle of my New York/Philadelphia adventures when I return to Boston.

* In addition to shopping classes, next week will be devoted to getting my ass in line. Pending are uncompleted work-study forms, multiple internship deadlines, and a yet-to-be-scheduled pre-screening for group therapy.

* FemSex information sessions kick off this week. I’m so there!

* I hear it’s twenty below freezing back on campus. Better warm up soon, if not for my arrival, then for the arrival of my favorite man I love to hate. Summer Guy may be paying a visit to Boston, Massachusetts in the next month or so. Details tk.

* And in lieu of a male conquest, here’s a snapshot of five-month-old baby, Dash — the first male face to appear on the blog! He accompanied his father, Ryan, to our (platonic) coffee date last Saturday in Union Square. I peg him as a future heartbreaker.

Reading Period is upon us — nothing but studying, reading, writing, and tests. For at least the next week, real blog entries will come second to my three papers.

* Summer Guy returns. Well, technically I returned by going home to Los Angeles, where we dated and bickered a season ago. This holiday, we met up. Naturally, nothing good came out of that. Naturally, I will exploit our encounter for all its salacious, literary value. Note to self: return his angry voicemail.

* Speaking of soulless corporate drones, yuppie blog BankersBall (think: Gawker-meets-finance) reports that I’m less-than-titillating. Because you know, Excel is so much more interesting than descriptions of dry humping.

* New character, Peter, will be joining the cast as well as my speed dial. His debut is scheduled for intercession (late January) and he actually has real-life fans, unlike all the other boy toys who my pals hate with a passion. Not so with Peter! All my roommates want to steal him from me. Hands off, bitches. Especially you, Terra.

* Currently suffering from a sweet tooth and jungle fever as my graphic indicates. If you’re a black guy with cake, I will write your papers for you in exchange for dessert in my dorm. (Picture courtesy of Anne Taintor, whose art is featured prominently on my wall-to-wall corkboard. Love her work.)

* Productivity means hooking up four times since coming back Friday. Between blowjobs and dinner dates, I haven’t gotten any work done. Thus, I made a tough sacrifice and decided to skip out on an ex sex session with Berklee tonight in order to finish extracurricular commitments. But really, I should be on my knees in Stoughton, MA at the moment. Ah, another time.

* Introducing two new recurring features: “Things I Learned in Therapy” and “Things I Should Tell My Therapist”. These will be slightly more somber quick reads to accompany my haphazard “Quickies” and politically incorrect “Quotables“. (Confidential to hvd09 — I’ll let my therapist Sarah know about your suggestion — also, drop me an email).

* Sex and the Ivy needs an IT department. Or at least someone who can actually install/integrate plug-ins, set up a more organized comment system, and faciliate greater user feedback. Where does one solicit technical expertise? Craigslist? India? I’m lost when it comes to this stuff. Pre-frosh blogger Sam Jackson, Yale ‘11, asked me how I’d manage to make it so far. My answer: “Like you might with a virgin, slowly but surely.”

* Into international men? The Gadfly’s Sahil Mahtani ‘08 (SM to my readers) wouldn’t mind engaging in some S&M via Boredatlamont.com.

* Readers: I’m making a self-important FAQ section, but I pretty much only get asked four questions: “What’s it like to be famous?” “Who’s [insert name]?” and “You slut” (really more of a statement). To which my responses are typically hahahaha, you, and I know. I think I need to work with more material here. So readers — especially my girls — please send inquiries to elle@sexandtheivy.com.

* New feature: registered users can now rate my entries on a five-star system. If you want to play, sign up here or click on the link in my sidebar under “Etc.” (Don’t register if you’re a character. You should already have an account set up.)

* Nominate your favorite blogs for the Seventh Annual Weblog Awards. This is the only year Sex and the Ivy qualifies for Best Teen Weblog or Best New Weblog (other categories — writing, humor, etc. — can be up to individual judgment). My personal list of favorites includes: IvyGate (New, Humorous), Gawker (Entertainment, Humorous), Sam Jackson (Teen, New), Opinionistas (American, Writing), and others. Entries are due by tomorrow, January 10 at 10 p.m. EST. Show me some love.