I can’t believe it. After two and a half years, five semesters, 56 weeks and roughly 41,300 words, I compose the last thoughts I will ever offer as Brown’s female sex columnist.
People often ask me how I manage to come up with a new topic every week. The truth is that it’s not hard; I could keep writing this column forever. I have unending sources of material. I generate my columns from everything: the suggestions, jokes, and quips furnished by friends; the physiological and psychological challenges everyone’s encountered in the course of a sexual education; and the issues my own sexcapades have forced me to consider.
Because this column is the post-coital glow of an extended sexual engagement with the Brown community, I do want to leave my mark. However, condoms expire, hickies fade, and I doubt that anyone would appreciate it if I bequeathed to the Brown student body an STI. So instead, I’m going to conclude my tenure as “sexpert” by sharing some things I’ve learned over the past two and a half years that apply just as much to having sex as to writing about it.
Every week, I’m limited to about 800 words. The blessing of the word limit is that it forces me to boil complex sexual issues—from rejection and body image to the etiquette of fluids—down to their bare essentials. However, other components of sex are far too complicated to resolve in 800 words or less. I regret that means my treatment of these issues was reductive at best, trivializing at worst. I wish that I had the space to more fully explore the difference between porn and erotica, the ins and outs of casual sex, and the politics of STI status.
So how do my word limit frustrations relate to our sex lives? They relate because we do the exact same thing in life—we sweat the small stuff and dismiss the things we should pay attention to, until they grow too large to ignore. So, inquiring minds of Brown University, next time you’re angsting over the end of a thing that was never a thing or agreeing to have sex without a condom because one of you is already on the Pill, ask yourself these two questions: Do I need to devote any more energy to this? And is this something I should think twice about?
When I started this job as a sophomore, I didn’t know the first thing about writing a sex column. I just made it up as I went along. And even now, when I sit down to write, I often start without knowing where I’ll end up. But as I write my way through a topic, the message never fails to emerge. This is the same way we should approach sex—even if you don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing, embark on a self-aware journey of exploration. Interested in testing the spectrum of your sexual orientation? Do it. Want to try to role-play? Put that costume on. Curious about sex in the Rock? I hear the B level is pretty empty most of the time. Try these things out and see where they take you.
In addition to writing columns about topics I’m still trying to understand myself, I also sometimes experiment with form. I’ve written columns as an extended metaphor, a bodice-ripper, a letter to a friend, and a formal etiquette guide. Sometimes they were funny. Other times they sucked. But the times they turned out well made it worth the risk.
So, another thing I’d encourage you to implement in your sex lives is responsible risk-taking. I’m talking about good risk-taking, like purchasing a sex toy or making the first move. The other kind of risk-taking—the kind that involves unprotected sex with a Hell’s Angel you met at Kartabar or participating in a threesome with your insecure best friend and his or her insistent partner—are risks to avoid. But as for the other kind of risk-taking, look toward Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus as your guide: “Take chances, make mistakes and get messy!”
The final thing I want to say is something I’ve said before in many other columns. But once more, for good measure: GO OUT AND GET WHAT YOU WANT. I know, I know—it’s easier said than done. Sometimes you go for it, and you fall on your ass. Sometimes conquests, encounters, or relationships leave a bruise and sometimes they leave a permanent scar. But you have to go for the gold when it comes to sex. Never settle for less than your wildest desires. Never forget that you are the architects of your own sexual destinies. Sexual confidence is 85 percent mental; as soon as you have your first success, you’re on your way to another and another and another. So get out there! Especially at Brown, which boasts 5,900 extraordinary, passionate, multi-talented undergrads to choose from. Did I mention that most of them are also smokin’ hot? Take advantage of each other—in a good way—while you still can.
Some parting words for the graduating class of 2010: Though we’re saying goodbye to this well-endowed university and its lush, wet grasses after the Providence rain, come June 1, we’re going to be the newest, freshest PYTs on the block. We got our game; it’s time to share it with the world. Those big, bad cities won’t know what hit ’em.
Lastly, thank you to everyone who has tottered up to me at a party on a Friday night and drunkenly slurred that you’ve read the column and that it touched you, or at least that it helped you touch yourself. That feedback never got old.
Well, Brown, I guess this is goodbye. So long and thanks for all the sex. I’ll really miss you. Oh, and before I go, I have to ask: was it good for you? Because it was f*cking great for me.
