Learn from not quite perfect dating experiences Thursday, Jul 15 2010 

Hormones, hormones, hormones.  I blame them.  They are the reason we end up in the most awkward situations with the opposite sex, i.e. the date.  The buildup of hormones explains why we feel butterflies in our stomach as well as other feelings that may be too sexually inappropriate for a College Lifestyles blog.  Regardless to the chemical stimulation, we are in college and it is fun and natural for guys to want to be around girls and vise versa.

Hormones, hormones, hormones! This is how we work it.

Pleased to meet you, I am a stuttering estrogen maxed out goof who has a dating experience to make your head spin.  My father is only sane because I inform him that I am joining the convent or going to play bingo every time I walk out the door with a different guy.  From the amateur moments where I learned how to kiss, to the serious and great relationships I have had, there are a few hysterical dates that stand out enough to either make me blush or to simply laugh to tears- but who are we kidding, that could be the progesterone.

Carly rolls her eyes as she recollects dating silly guys.

Let’s start with the, “The Creepy Cuddler.”

The summer before going into college, my family and I lived on Fire Island.  Picture a small beach town with sidewalk roads made only for bicycles and a quaint row of restaurants and bars ready to fulfill ultimate partying and grooving.  It was in the beauty of Fire Island that I met an outgoing and fun blue-eyed guy who we will call, “Elvis,” due to his side burns.

Elvis and I played volleyball at the beach, boogie boarded in the ocean waves, and drank Snapple Apple from the endless supply in his mini fridge since his father worked for Snapple.  Perhaps because we were so active and usually hanging out with groups of friends, I was blind to his ultra- sensitive side.  Don’t get me wrong, emotions are perfectly normal.  But there is a fine line between honest feelings and nauseating behavior.  Nothing prepared me for Elvis’s little cherished hobby.

As he nestled his head on my shoulder to confess his bedtime secret, he shared that he most enjoys snuggling with his mother.  Take into account that Elvis was 19 years old when he confided this information.  This is when I made my speedy escape, and found something more entertaining to do than cuddling.  Even bingo won that time.

Next is, “The date heard around the world.”

Also a summer fling, I met this lumber jack-esque guy through friends.  For kicks, we shall refer to him as Paul Bunyan.  He had a very dry sense of humor and crunched his posture to fit in his too-small car.  The two of us were complete opposites.  When we went bowling he attentively kept score on the computer screen while I moon walked to the lane to inevitably toss the bowling ball into the gutter.  However my friends liked that he could balance my silly behavior.  It turned out that Mr. Bunyan could be even sillier than me.

Paul Bunyan and his Babe. Hopefully the ox will be a better companion than me.

Just as I had mentioned that hormones exist, so does flatulence.  Everyone has a different opinion of what one has the liberty to call, “farting.”  When Dr. Oz said on Oprah that it was “unhealthy” to hold in a fart, men around the world suddenly felt in style.  Since Oprah has not yet farted publicly on the show or among her many media outlets, I can assume that it is still not safe for women to openly fart.  Personally, I let it go with my brothers who will only laugh and then outdo me.  (Seriously, like on command powers.)  Besides not eating corn before a date, it is also unacceptable to fart on a date.  Poor Paul Bunyan was not informed.

As I was making us drinks in my kitchen, he farted.  Loudly.

The aftermath moment was silent and stunning.  But then I just burst into laughter.

He was stone cold and completely ignored his gas blowing stunt.

Rather than join me, he waited for me to contain myself and then proceeded on with, “How about them Yankee’s” conversation.  If he had laughed it off, everything would have been fine.  Instead, all I could hear was that fart when I looked at him and the fling could no longer go on.  Poof! (No pun intended.)

In college and out of college we will deal with weird secrets, farting, and hormones.  The bottom line is that nobody is perfect.  Within this realm of our youth, we are trying to figure out so much, let alone about the opposite sex.  Many of us are enrolled in summer courses to better advance our education to do the best we can upon completion of college.  Yet we still make minute decisions like whether or not we would like to continue dating someone.  Go with your gut instinct.  (But not necessarily his gut).  Realize that we are in the same shoes as classy college co-eds and are hoping to enjoy ourselves today.  Date or not, it is important to acknowledge people for what you like about them.  Standards are fine, but there is no point in focusing on them until truly knowing a person.  Have fun, smile big, and be yourself.


Let’s Get It On Monday, Jan 25 2010 

Zzzz.  The act of sleeping consists of shut eye accompanied by relaxed heavy breathing.  Then how come people often refer to the verb when explaining their sexual endeavors?  If you say you slept with someone than you certainly did not get much rest.  Then again, raunchy phrases like, ‘rolled in the hay,’ ‘made whoopee,’ ‘got in the sack, ‘bumped uglies,’ ‘tapped,’ ‘banged,’ or ‘shagged,’ explain the deed in terms not as serious as making love.  Whether or not we choose to define sex as exact or not, the act is conveyed and carried out under different pretenses and understandings.

In my pre-teen years when I had no idea what sex truly was, I deemed the entire action as an, ‘it.’  Whatever it was, one would eventually, ‘do it.’  Listening to Marvin Gaye in his seductive deep voice beckoning, “Let’s get it on,” made me blush.  Could someone actually make love to me one day, baby?  What would it feel like and who would it be with were questions that raced through my innocent mind.

Unfortunately, I had a bad start to the world of loving relations with the opposite sex.  The time was second grade and the scene was on the rough and tough playground during recess.  A game of tag with my arch nemesis, Michael Smith*, was interrupted by his lips on my mouth.  Completely startled, I pushed him away from me and kicked him in the shin.  He cried and I was met by my disappointed mother in the principal’s office.  The end.

At fifteen, the idea of cooties began to wear off, and my curiosity began to make way for adventurous pastures.  This urge was for reasons beyond being horny.  I have never wanted to go bungee jumping, shoot a loaded gun, or take acid.  Sex was something I needed to try.  However there were obstacles.  My virginity was sacred and at stake.  You only get one first time.  It was not that I placed my virginal value on a pedestal, but that I wanted the right partner.  I wanted it to be real.

My first opportunity was an utter disaster, except I did not kick him in the shin.  Incandescent street lights glowed upon the romantic cul-de-sac where my afro headed boyfriend’s Volvo was parked.  As we fogged up the windows for the umpteenth time, I knew he was eventually going to ask for it.  Like a freaking psychic, he looked me in the eyes and asked me if I was ready.  I guess my deer in headlights reaction was enough prompt for him to whip out a condom.  My head was light, and my limbs were jello.  In complete fear and everything in slow motion, I caught my bearings and backed away in halt.  He nodded silently and reached for his clothes.  I give him credit for simmering down his raging hormones and being understanding.

While I was in this young and excited faze seeking the right sexual venture, Nancy was on a different scheme and pace.

You know what I think is bullshit? That Taylor Swift song “Fifteen”.

“Cause when you’re fifteen, somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them?”  If someone told me at age 15 they loved me I would have done one of a few things:

    · Said, “mom… I love you too”
    · Laughed
    · Written his name down in my journal where I put all of the boys who were unfortunate enough to fall for me

But in all seriousness I was about as far away as you could be mentally from accepting another person into my life emotionally, let alone sexually. Carly took romps in the backseats of cars on her Friday nights, I watched Disney movies with friends on mine.

There are a few memories about sexuality that will always be vivid in my mind. One was when I was reading a “Seventeen Magazine” and there was a column where a letter written in was about a 16 year old girl who was having sex with her boyfriend. I was HORRIFIED! Just imagine, a sixteen year old having S-E-X? It was hard to fathom at the time, and looking back on it isn’t that when a lot of girls first did it. Another thing I won’t forget is having one of those girly talks with middle school mean girls that you could pretend for the moment were your friend since she wore a lot of Limited Too clothes. I posed a question, “Sure you can imagine having sex but could you actually imagine who it would be with?” It seemed like she was comfortable with some mystery man doing the deed but I couldn’t say the same for myself.

Its not as though I haven’t devoted a fair amount of time thinking about this subject and why the thought of sex made me so uncomfortable. Though I do consider myself a Catholic… I think all those years of Jesus School kind of messed with my head. “THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY!!!” I’ll take the late night showing of The Lion King over fire and brimstone thankyouverymuch.

I guess that is what gave rise to the fact that I am a notorious tease/flirt. It became ok to suggest, to joke about, to relish the attention from the boys. It would stop there. Once I got the attention, the awkward comment, the invitation to Homecoming , it was all over. “You want me. I win.” Messed up right?

When I was 15 and girls like Carly would get so caught up with boys I would laugh at them and think they were brainless idiots. I considered myself so above that silly stuff, but ultimately I wonder who was the more mature person about it now. We all have to go through the baby steps to get into the real deal relationships and Carly has it down pat. Me? Im still reading Seventeen Magazine.