Ah, sexually transmitted infections. The modern scarlet letter. “Stay away!” we cry. Particularly if it’s herpes. Oh, religious deity, forbid it be herpes.

For many, STIs exist on an intangible parallel plane. This or that promiscuous so-and-so might have had it coming, but we’d like to think we’re far removed from that plane of existence. STIs are seen as “dirty,” a blight upon whoever might have them. We dread joining their ranks.

In truth, however, STIs are as ubiquitous as bedbugs in New York. And like bedbugs, STIs are often more discomfiting than necessarily nefarious. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly all sexually active adults will contract some strain of HPV at some point, but the body magics away most HPV infections.

This unfortunately isn’t quite the case with herpes, the second-most-common medically incurable STI. One in six people in the United States — 50 million people, y’all — have genital herpes, or HSV-2, and somewhere between 60 and 80 percent have oral herpes, or HSV-1, also called canker sores. Although there is no cure for either strain, both can be treated and their symptoms vastly ameliorated. And for the more notorious HSV-2, besides the occasional flare-up — which can lie dormant for years, in any case — there doesn’t seem to be any larger health issues. No complications with the female reproductive tract, no internal damage, no cancer.

Despite HSV-2’s commonness and relative harmlessness, it is still surrounded by social stigma second only to HIV, according to a 2007 Harris Interactive Poll. Not to cast HIV as some sort of extreme (modern medicine can help the HIV-positive live long lives full of salacious sex if they like), but herpes? C’mon. It’s like slightly misplaced acne.

Let’s start by asking you, the reader: Would you call a relationship off if your potential or current partner told you he or she had herpes? In the Harris poll, most respondents without HSV-2 said they would either avoid partners with herpes or end things with their partner if they were told he or she had herpes. That’s indiscriminately voting one out of every sixth potential mate out for something that doesn’t cause any problems and that doesn’t need to be passed on if you practice safer sex. For groups with one herpes-positive partner and one not, paying attention to breakouts and always using condoms and/or antiviral medications can cut your rate transmission down to 1 to 2 percent per year of regular sex — pretty minuscule, if you ask me.

The most alarming statistic in my eyes is that an estimated 80 percent of people with herpes don’t even know they have it. Yeah, we’ve talked about how herpes isn’t that bad. But the larger issue behind this stat — besides not possessing the ability to be open with your partner or practicing safer sex — is the fact that these people probably aren’t getting tested for other entirely curable — but more dangerous — STIs such as chlamydia, trichomoniasis, gonorrhea and syphilis, either. This convenient forgetfulness or ignorance about our own susceptibility to STIs could potentially be what damns us. We sexually active folk are likely all exposed to STIs at some point in time, so why do we evade the issue?

Chlamydia, trich, gonorrhea (the “clap”) and syphilis are all bacterial, so you can be rid of them for good with treatment. Left alone, however, they can have devastating effects in the long run, although they might not manifest any symptoms in the short run. Chlamydia — the most commonly reported STI — and gonorrhea can cause infertility if left untreated. Scary syphilis, if not caught early on, can cause damage to the brain, heart and nervous system and possibly even lead to death.

If you’re sexually active, whatever sex you identify as, the CDC recommend getting tested for chlamydia, gonorrhea and HIV once a year. The Tang Center covers an annual checkup for chlamydia, the clap, HIV and Pap smears (the last recommended to be administered every three years for women above the age of 21). Other STIs, such as trich, syphilis and herpes, aren’t generally tested for unless you feel you have been exposed to them or display symptoms, but you can ask for these screenings at either the Tang Center or Planned Parenthood.

Stigma won’t go down without a fight, unfortunately, but perhaps talking about it and dispelling falsehoods will help combat it. Hopefully with more openness and knowledge will come more testing, acceptance, treatment and discussion. It’s better to play it safe and get routinely checked, so if necessary, you can plan ahead or get treated accordingly — but remember, it’s not an end-all if you contract something. Life and sex go on. A tour guide and actor at Kink.com once told a classmate of mine about the first thing a colleague told him when he discovered he had herpes: “Welcome to the club.” You won’t be alone.

Vi Nguyen writes the weekly Sex on Tuesday column. You can contact her at sex@dailycal.org or follow her on Twitter: @yonictonic.

The post Misplaced acne, bedbugs and stigmas appeared first on The Daily Californian.

I had gone through the longest dry spell of my nonvirgin life while studying abroad. By the time I returned to the good ol’ U.S. of A, my sex drive had all but shriveled up and died due to neglect. I thought I had found a new sort of sexless nirvana. So this is how people go months, even years, without doing the deed, I mused to myself. It was almost calming. Zen. I could keep doing this.

Zoom to Los Angeles. I was telling my good friend about this new state of being as I was relaxing on her bed in her new apartment, but it didn’t seem like she was paying me much heed. Rather, she was busy peering around the space, poking at neatly folded piles of clothing in her armoire. “Whoa, looks like my boyfriend hard-core cleaned the place up earlier. We were pretty high and I joked about our having a threesome tonight … I guess he took it seriously,” she said with a laugh.

If there is nothing else you glean from this article, just remember this: Very rarely does someone joke about having sex with you unless there’s some shrapnel of truth to it.

Three hours later, I was reflecting on the wisdom of this adage as my friend tried to hide her nervousness by flip-flopping between “joking” and testing the waters as to my level of interest. But then the moment of truth: “Wait … let’s actually do this. I’ve never had a threesome before.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes … Would you be down?”

Rest in peace, newfound temporary abstinence.

One very quick conversation about boundaries and rules later, my friend strips and giddily runs into the bedroom. I turn around to see her boyfriend behind me so I think, fuckheregoesnothingokay, and kiss him. But because I feel weird as hell — I’ve never been attracted to him, and this is the dude my friend is convinced she’s going to marry — I yank off his shirt and run off with it in what I hope seems appropriate and sexy. Inwardly, I feel like a five-year-old miscreant.

Previous to this exchange, the only advice I’d received regarding threesomes was to find a way to keep myself busy. This sounds frantic, but it’s actually a pretty good rule of thumb to keep from being discouraged; getting into the sharing groove of three is a distinct departure from the single-mindedness of having just one partner. When I wasn’t being stimulated, I found a way to incorporate myself in the romp, enhancing my friend and her boyfriend’s experience in some way or form; in turn, I was never neglected for very long. We spent a good chunk of the time laughing and making bawdy small talk, and there wasn’t a single heavy moment throughout.

Apparently, it was good enough for them to want another go a couple weeks later.

I don’t know what it was about the following summer. Maybe that first couple of threesomes really set the mood or something, but nearly all the sex I had in the following months was in groups of three or more. The starts of such romps were sometimes awkward, sometimes not, but they had one theme in common: their focus on casual good times. None of my experiences materialized as the lustful throng of body parts that I had previously stereotyped orgies to be — my partners and I just wanted a playful romp.

I have found that I cycle between periods of abstinence in which I tell myself to wait for someone I care about — having gotten tired of a string of loveless hook-ups — and subsequent periods of hedonistic lovefests after having gotten tired of waiting. But somehow, group sex doesn’t leave that sour taste in my mouth that casual hooking up often does. From my experience, there’s generally less emotional intensity and instead a focus on just having some lascivious feels and fun. Maybe it’s because things aren’t personal, but people feel calmer — it’s not about getting to the passionate pinnacle of orgasm.

Rather, the intent is simply goofing and playing around with many sets of naughty body parts. And one huge perk: You can leave whenever you want. Done? Respectfully slip out. Your remaining partners will either continue or let things come to a natural end. And communicating what you want in this often-goofy, sometimes bizarre situation is easy, since things usually don’t get intense to the point where speech disappears.

Although I feel too occupied to emotionally invest in something serious at this juncture, this doesn’t mean I don’t want to still have fun in the sack. But sometimes I’m not into the intensity or faux-seriousness that might accompany your standard fuck buddy. For pure sex and giggles, I’ve found group sex to be a whimsical outlet for thrills and fun.

Vi Nguyen writes the Sex on Tuesday column. You can contact her at sex@dailycal.org or follow her on Twitter: @yonictonic.

The post How I came to love group sex appeared first on The Daily Californian.

Leather and latex cover some parts of the bodies at Folsom, but not the parts that society typically asks of clothing.

Some folk are bound by rope and chain — others are led by their partner by collar and leash, often wearing full-head leather masks. A woman’s limbs are arranged artistically via rope and knots before she is suspended by hooks, her bound breasts turning slightly purple. She grins wolfishly as the fellow who tied her up pinches a nipple, and she kisses him upside-down — he grips her hair in a show of both force and devotion. A beautiful transvestite rocks a lace bra and knee-high leather boots. A naked man in a ski mask stands in a window on the third floor of his apartment and jacks off what might be the largest erect dick I’ve ever seen. The crowd on the street erupts in cheers when, 15 minutes later, he cums.

These are a few of the scenes I was fortunate enough to be privy to at the Folsom Street Fair last Sunday. For those unfamiliar, FSF is an annual leather and BDSM — Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism and Masochism — street fair. BDSM practitioners enjoy a myriad toys and methods, many of which I saw at FSF. But for all the variety in sexual preferences — from butt plugs that had horse tails, aerial suspensions via rope and so forth — there was one thing that all the people I saw held in common: smiles. No matter whether the party was a dom — the dominant member in a BDSM relationship — in spiked heels or a sub — the submissive — in a full-face leather dog mask, a totally naked middle-aged man getting his ass whipped cherry-red or a plainly clothed average human walking through the fair, everyone was having a good time bringing bedroom preferences to the daylight or simply watching others do so.

Nearly no one I saw was intoxicated. No one did anything to anyone without explicit consent: Nearly all the sexual activity — be it flogging, spanking or stroking — was between people who already knew each other or was within the bounds of set-up booths. I felt entirely comfortable the entire time. There I was, surrounded by people who were so open, honest and communicative about their sexuality that they chose to air it out in the sunshine. The feel of community and adventure was buzzing in the air.

Oftentimes, people associate the images I painted at the beginning of this article with a sort of deviant, seedy subculture. Part of this is institutional. Older editions of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the psychologist’s bible for mental disorders, had listed paraphilia — an umbrella term for “unusual” sex desires like fetishes, BDSM and kink — as a mental disorder. But a Dutch study published last summer found that, of the survey’s participants, BDSM practitioners scored better on measures of mental well-being and the emotional security in relationships than those who only practice “vanilla” sex. Granted, the participants self-selected into the study, so the results may not be representative of society as a whole, but it was still a refreshing shout against the historical villainization of BDSM. And maybe the sort of communication necessary for BDSM — regarding soft and hard limits, for example — does lend itself to healthier relationship skills.

BDSM is simply a personal preference, not an expression of some dark personality twist or abusive history (as with the hero of Fifty Shades of Gray, Christian Grey). The newest DSM does make the distinction between “atypical” behaviors and mental diseases involving those “atypical” behaviors, which is a solid step toward appreciating BDSM as just a personal preference. But I still think the wording is a bit problematic. What’s “typical” and “atypical” when it comes to your inexplicable carnal passions?

An incredible BDSM comic on DeviantArt by artist “Shiniez” said it best: “With sexuality being a taboo on a good day, deviations (have always been) observed with judgmental eyes. They took that small, personal aspect of one’s life, and put a spotlight on it. And under that spotlight sexuality cast an ugly shadow on the society and the society frowned upon it. But there were those who understood that it is a wonderful aspect of the human experience. Wonderful, exciting, intimate, sometimes a bit scary, and sometimes even a little funny.”

Human sexuality is a messy maelstrom of emotion, carnal passion and power plays. It will inevitably materialize differently based on individual tastes. You might not like BDSM. But you also might love it, and it doesn’t say anything seedy about you or suggest anything warped in your past or personality. The happy, loving and confident people I saw at FSF were an ardent testimony to that.

Vi Nguyen writes the Sex on Tuesday column. Contact her at sex@dailycal.org

The post Notes from Folsom Street Fair appeared first on The Daily Californian.

Now, I’m not saying these guys are perfect. Far from it, in fact. I’m not even saying they’re feminists. That’s Ryan Gosling’s thing, and I wouldn’t dare try to steal any thunder from the demigod of male feminists. It would be idolatry and, I’d  have to answer to the high court of 14-year-old girls from across the globe. But I’ve recently realized Louis C.K., Tupac Shakur and Jon Hamm have some important things to say on behalf of us ladies. Although they may not be the people you would expect to pipe up about women’s issues, I think their messages are worth sharing.

Louis C.K. has been called a “rape apologist” for allegedly supporting Daniel Tosh’s show after Tosh told a particularly offensive rape joke. In light of the accusations, he did what every celebrity with a good publicist does when he or she is the subject of outrage and hopped right on “The Daily Show” to straighten things out.

On the show, C.K. explained that he did not mean to defend Tosh’s offensive joke and that he learned a lot because of the miscommunication. “I’ve read some blogs during this whole thing that enlightened me to some things I didn’t know,” he said. “This woman said rape is something that polices women’s lives. They have a narrow corridor. They can’t go out late, they can’t go to certain neighborhoods, they can’t dress a certain way.” Ordinarily, I’d say he was just trying to save face after the social media maelstrom. But something really exciting started to happen: Pro-woman sentiments quickly began seeping into his stand up.

In his comedy special “Live at Beacon Theater,” C.K. defends women who don’t want to have as much sex as their male counterparts do and explains (quite accurately) why some women want to cuddle after sex — a topic that most people, especially other comedians, used to belittle women for a cheap laugh. In response to men who claim women are “needy” for wanting to cuddle, C.K. says, “She’s not needy, you idiot, she’s horny. Because you did nothing for her. You did absolutely nothing.” Although C.K. is the antithesis of political correctness, he hilariously ridicules those who accuse women of unreasonable sexual prudeness.

Then, on a vastly different plane from C.K., there’s Tupac Shakur. Hip-hop has always been notoriously saturated with misogyny. Yet during his prolific career, Shakur actually wrote many songs that were explicitly feminist. This is most apparent in his song “Keep Ya Head Up,” which takes on numerous topics on the feminist agenda, touching on single-motherhood, domestic violence and rape. In it, Tupac advises that men respect and defend females, lest we raise a generation taught to hate and admonish the very women that gave birth to them.

You might be thinking, “But what about all the Tupac references to ‘bitches’?” In the 1990s, politician and civil rights activist Dolores Tucker asked the same question. But if you take a look at his song “Wonda Why They Call U Bitch,” Tupac responds directly to Tucker’s attacks, expressing that a woman’s sex life is her business and saying he finds no issue with any woman wanting to make a better life for herself.What he does find issue with is the type of woman who money-grubs to accomplish these things, and he is unapologetic for criticizing them in his music.

Last, we have Jon Hamm, commonly known for his role as Don Draper on AMC’s hit series “Mad Men.” In the show, Hamm plays one of television’s most infamous chauvinistic lady-players and adopts the degrading attitude many men openly expressed toward women in the 1960s, both in the workplace and at home.

But outside of his role as Draper, Jon Hamm works hard to rebuke his character’s sexist treatment of women. Along with fellow cast members, Hamm spoke at a sponsored benefit for the Rape Treatment Center in Los Angeles about how it is essential that younger generations have male role models who do not tolerate sexual violence. He also criticizes the chauvinism he portrays in “Mad Men,” explaining, “Working wives were a rarity, because their place was in the home, bringing up the kids … That was a fact of life then. But it wouldn’t be tolerated today, and that’s quite right in my book.” Pour yourself another cold one, Mr. Draper. I’ll drink to that.

Louis C.K. has somehow managed to offend every stigmatized group in the book with his standup. Tupac was sent to prison for doing several illegal things in the 1990s. Jon Hamm’s SNL episode was just OK. These men have obvious flaws. Yet they nevertheless prove a valuable lesson I would like people to recognize: comedy, hip-hop and being a suave male do not have to be mutually exclusive with respecting women.

The post Feminist finds unlikely allies appeared first on The Daily Californian.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the music scene has been taking some desperate measures. With a generation ready to embrace whatever trending thing that comes up on their social media news feed, there are hundreds of thousands of artists out in the world trying to make the next best universal hit. With so many musicians coming out with so many songs, it becomes more difficult to come up with something that’s truly creative and original. Some artists will sing about anything. After taking a moment to look back on some random song titles with us at the Daily Clog, you may never look at an inanimate object in an unsexualized way ever again.

1. “Slip N Slide” by Jonn Hart featuring Kid Ink. You were definitely the cool kid on the block if you owned a Slip ‘n Slide. If your parents just had a thing against inflatable water slides, at least you enjoyed the TV commercials. But if there were ever two people in the world that could create an analogy between a Toys “R” Us product and sex, it’s Jonn Hart (that’s right, with two N’s) and Kid Ink. The painfully catchy tune has now made innocent slipping and sliding something of a forgotten past. And Hart’s serious, mentioning in his rap, “I ain’t gon’ play no games.” But why, Mr. Hart? Summer games are chock full of innocent and good fun! What’s probably the weirdest thing about this song is how the heck Hart or Ink found the inspiration. That must have been one hell of a Wal-Mart trip.

2. “Whistle” by Flo Rida. What. The. Hell. If someone told us that we were allowed to make a song about a stupid whistle, we would be making bank! Uncalled for, Flo. But of course the guy who unnecessarily splits a state’s name in half has dibs on creating a song about a small wind instrument. We would also like to mention that if it took you a while to catch on the song’s sexualized themes, we don’t blame you. He is literally singing about how to use a whistle. It really is so damn literal. But really, Flo Rida must have seen a random whistle on the ground and decided to make a song about it. We can only imagine his disparity in needing to pay his utilities bill. And just for the record, if you happen to meet a girl who doesn’t know how to use a whistle, she has a breathing problem.

3. “Crickets” by Drop City Yacht Club featuring Jeremih. It’s very unsurprising to realize that this song has nothing to do with crickets. Sorry, cricket lovers … whoever you may be. The word “crickets” only comes up like four times in the song. As A-Wolf and Kristo rap quite distastefully about a girl, Jeremih’s soulful voice sings about trying to get a girl to hang out with him but hears crickets instead of a “Yes.”  But you can’t fool us here at Berkeley. We know that crickets prevalently come out at night, so look Jeremih. It’s not that you’re ugly or you don’t have a great voice or whatever. Maybe she doesn’t want a stranger following her and singing to her in the middle of the night.

4. “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna. We can say one thing about this song: It makes a great drinking game! But if you’re ever curious — or bored — enough to look up how many times Rihanna mentions the word “cake” in this song, it’s probably more than you’ve mentioned the word in your last eight birthdays. This song is so repetitive and simplistic that it’s almost … genius. Think about it. As Rihanna sings about making someone her bitch and not having the decency to put your name on your very own birthday cake, we can’t help but dance the night away to this on replay. You wouldn’t even know this song was about a pastry unless you did a really random Google search.

The only lesson we can learn from this? The next inanimate object you see, make a song about it. By what we’ve seen here, you can make millions.

Know of any songs or song titles you just have troubling getting? Share with us in the comments!

Image Source: Focka under Creative Commons 

Contact Karen Kwaning at kkwaning@dailycal.org.

The post 4 painfully literal song titles appeared first on The Daily Californian.

Maybe you’re in a long-term relationship. How can we define this? Maybe it’s been six months — or even more. Although the cutoff for being in an “official” long-term relationship remains ambiguous, maybe there’s one thing you know for sure: This person’s the one.

There are definitely perks of being in a long-term relationship. The killer butterflies that make you feel like you’re going to crap your pants have finally flown away. Now, it’s no longer weird that your significant other has to poop. You guys can finally have dates that involve eating barbecue. Maybe y’all even feel comfortable enough to take showers together. However comfortable you feel, the point is that you’re comfortable.

Berkeley’s academic year is full of distractions, and the distractions never fully disappear over the summer. This usually means busy summers interning, volunteering or even studying abroad.

However, no matter how busy you may be, remember to channel your Brian McKnight. Bring it back to step one. Summer is the perfect time to explore exactly why you guys fell in love. Also remember to support your partner. If you and your partner have ambitious goals to accomplish during the summer (some or all of which could be mutually exclusive), make sure to let your significant other know that you’re there for him or her no matter what. I’m talking flowers, chocolates, morning breakfasts in bed, coffee outings, dates overlooking the Bay Area or even daily text reminders telling your partner how much you believe in them.

If you’re in a long-distance relationship, don’t fret. Not being able to see a person that you’re totally head over heels for can be scary but shows strength. Most importantly, long-distance relationships show that you trust each other enough to be miles away over long periods of time. If the love of your life doesn’t even live in the Bay Area, then summer is definitely the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Book it. This is the time to grab that Greyhound ticket or schedule a flight to spend some time with the person you’ve been waiting to see. Or, better yet, drag his or her butt to the Bay Area and explore all the romantic — though sometimes cliched — spots overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Alternatively, it’s possible that you’re in a temporarily long-term relationship. Maybe your significant other is on a family vacation in another state or country. Also, let’s not forget about UC Berkeley’s study abroad program. Maybe your partner is going to spend a month or more in Europe. Distance sucks, but make it work! With the world being technologically integrated, 3,000 miles doesn’t mean that you can’t see your sweetheart for more than a couple days at a time. If you’re determined to maintain this relationship through the summer, there are two ways to keep connected.

The first way is to send pictures to each other. It can soften the blow of being so far apart and also offers a way for you guys to explore the world together.

The second way is through phone or Skype sex. If you’re missing your one and only in every way possible, virtual sex could help maintain that intimacy. Although it could be a step out of your comfort zone, remember that this is summer. It’s a time for adventures and for new things! Phone or Skype sex can be another memorable experience you guys share together, or it could be that hilarious event you guys can look back on and laugh about.

Maybe after all is said and done, your relationship wasn’t like the ones you find in romantic comedies. Maybe you’re done. Being done refers back to an inevitable truth about relationships: No matter who it is, at least one person ends up being hurt. If you’re sure that you cannot continue with your relationship, wipe away those tears. The start of this season is offering you a new beginning.

During your post-breakup summer, you have the option of staying friends with your ex. Let’s be honest. John Mayer has a point. You’re either friends, lovers or nothing. If you and your ex get along great as friends, that’s, well, great! Not sure how that works out, but that’s wonderful. But be careful not to jump too quickly onto the Friendship Happiness Express. Now that you’re back on the market, don’t let being friends with your ex stop you from hanging out with someone new. Enjoy meeting the new people in your life. Remember there’s always time in the future for settling down.

Now that summer has come, maybe you’ve finally met the one. Maybe you’re falling in love. Love. This is what we fight for. This is why we cry, and this is why our hearts break. This is why we’re left with memories we can’t forget and why our lives start to change. But most importantly, this is how we grow. Sometimes you may not even feel it happening. It just happens. All of a sudden, you find that you just want to be with this person. Now. This summer.

If this is how you’re feeling, I can only offer you one word of advice: Go. Just go. Regardless of what type of relationship you’re in, summer is a beautiful season. Its warmth and comfort will surround you every day, whether you’re with the one you love or if you are the only person you want to spend time with. Make this summer memorable. Appreciate every moment and remember the bliss of not knowing where life can lead you — and whom you might meet.

Contact Karen Kwaning at kkwaning@dailycal.org.

The post Status update: your summer relationship appeared first on The Daily Californian.

As a health worker for Unit 3 this past year, I was used to residents coming to my door late at night, timidly asking if I had any banana-flavored condoms left or wondering how to make an appointment at the Tang Center. In fact, I looked forward to those interactions. But 3 a.m. was a pretty unusual time to hear any knocking. Groggy, confused, and clad in my uncomfortably tight boxer briefs, I opened the door on a late Friday night to two serious faces staring nervously right at me.

I could tell this wasn’t just a late-night condom run. Standing in my doorway, one of them bluntly said, “I think our friend has alcohol poisoning.”

I muttered an expletive under my breath.

Sure, I was trained to notice signs of alcohol poisoning. “Remember ‘CUSP’: clammy, unconscious, slow breathing, pale.” Super easy, right? But until then, I had never been faced with such a situation.

So I followed them to their floor, shuffling through my memory bank to recall everything I had learned about alcohol poisoning and got ready to call 911.

When I got to her room, I found the girl in question lying on the bed, inebriated and surrounded by her floormates. She was perfectly conscious and entirely capable of carrying on conversation. But I proceeded through the checklist — just in case.

Normal breathing: check. Clammy: nope. Pale: not at all. So I reassured her friends that she wasn’t showing any signs of alcohol poisoning but that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her throughout the night and to find me if they had any remaining concerns.

I took the walk back up to my floor feeling incredibly relieved, and it immediately occurred to me that the week’s “health tip” that I posted was about partying safe and being a good bystander in case of emergency. My residents had actually taken something from my tip and used it that night to keep themselves safe and healthy.

That stressful five-minute encounter proved that all of the responsibilities, commitments and experiences that contribute to the complex life of a college student open the door to a variety of health issues. From relationships to the flu, managing these issues is crucial to maintaining yourself.

As fun as Berkeley is, I think the student body can still make improvements among itself — not necessarily in its recognition of the full scope of existing health concerns, but rather in how students make each other conscious of these concerns. How many times have you walked down Sproul and had the opportunity to trade the business flier that you blindly grabbed for something associated with student health? The advertising of groups, organizations, programs and resources dedicated to student health just isn’t as prominent as it should be.

We have — or, rather, should have — the fundamental right to pursue our interests and strengthen our creative spirit with no restrictions. That’s what these four years are for, right? But being bummed about an ailing relationship — romantic or platonic — or being stressed about classes to the point where sleep becomes an afterthought does just that: present restrictions. While these kinds of things may not be entirely preventable, creating a dialogue around them and raising awareness among students can never hurt.

To consider myself an undeniable expert on things like relationships, sex, depression and stress would be completely foolish, but I’m trying to increase the understanding of these issues. A large aspect of my job was to educate the residents on all aspects of college health through weekly health tips, one-on-one interactions and monthly events.

Over the course of the year, I had numerous encounters with students relating to any issue you could possibly imagine — from common things like stress, depression and nutrition to unexpected afflictions like scalp sunburns, infected foot mosquito bites and random requests for XXL condoms. A happy result of all this is the well-rounded outlook I gained on the range of issues that we as a student body have to deal with on top of our academic responsibilities.

I saw how unnerving it could be to constantly worry about the potential consequences of unprotected sex from the previous night. I saw how debilitating depression could be for someone who was so intelligent but didn’t have the energy to reach his or her potential. By no means am I downplaying these situations, but the consequences of some of these instances could have been prevented — or, at least, eased — with the right resources.

I truly wish this column could solve all the health and wellness issues on campus. More reasonably, however, it will serve as an additional resource to raise awareness of the things we don’t always think about. Making college health issues more prominent on our campus will be difficult — but not everything is as easy or straightforward as CUSP.

Shahin Firouzbakht writes a Thursday column on health issues affecting student life. Contact Shahin Firouzbakht at sfirouzbakht@dailycal.org.

The post On the CUSP of consciousness appeared first on The Daily Californian.

The single life is amazing. Nobody to answer to, no one else’s needs to take into account when making big decisions. You can have sex with whomever you want, and if you get bored of one partner, there’s nothing stopping you from moving to the next. It gets glamorized as an endless string of parties, the slow montage of sensual men and women, each beckoning to you with the promise of pleasure.

Sure, it has its merits, but what I don’t understand is why some single people go so far in embracing singledom that they end up bashing relationships. Too many friends of mine have told me they avoid relationships because they seem boring or uninspired. Maybe being with one person is too serious at this stage in our lives, or maybe relationships appear to offer less fun when compared to the revelry of flying solo.

But are things really that simple? In my experience, being in a relationship means that you’ve found someone who likes you as much as you like them. A relationship doesn’t seem too hard to find, but dating in Berkeley is surprisingly difficult. Allow me to rephrase: Dating in general is surprisingly difficult. You go through the standard conversation of getting to know each another — hometown, major, music taste, other interests. In order to actually get a sense of each another, you have to invest a big pretty big chunk of time in the other person. And then, more often than not, you find the “but.” She laughs at all your jokes, but you guys have diametrically opposed political views. He’s a really sweet guy, but there’s no chemistry. They have X, but you want Y.

The person you actually like enough to start a relationship with usually becomes the person closest to you. As the intimacy grows, so does the realization that your partner finds all the different versions of you attractive — the 8 a.m. grouch, the inner pouting child, the sassy flirt. You’re just as likely to get laid hanging out in pajamas on a lazy Sunday afternoon as you are dressing up and going out to a bar. Easy, frequent and (hopefully) good sex — you’ve hit the jackpot.

Not to mention you can try all those kinky things you’ve been curious about. In my experience, trying new things comes with erotic excitement, but it also happens to be stressful. When you’re in a relationship, you have a person now who knows what gets you off, whom you trust, who’s willing to experiment. Imagine asking a one-night stand to indulge your foot fetish or use anal beads on you. It’s much easier exploring new things with a boyfriend or girlfriend, with whom there’s a sense of emotional stability and safety.

For me, the major attraction of single sex is the novelty. Who doesn’t like flirting with a complete stranger, enjoying not only the attention but also the chance to discover their turn-ons and quirks? You get to play cat and mouse, and you fall into bed together, eager to explore. There’s the thrill of having sex for the first time with an unfamiliar body that responds to your touch in a completely unique way. That first time may not be seamless, but it sure as hell is fun.

I’m by no means saying relationships are perfect. They’re stressful and messy, and you and your partner might end up isolating yourselves from the world. Sleeping with the same person makes it easy to fall into a sex rut. You end up doing the same positions in the same order, because they’re familiar and you’re guaranteed to get off on it. Your sexual dynamic goes on autopilot, and you stop surprising each other. It happened to me, and I didn’t even realize it until I found myself eyeing every male within a 20-foot radius. Luckily, the situation was easily remedied by pouncing on my partner later that night and making sure to mix things up.

In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I enjoy my time being in a relationship more than my time being single. I’m drawn to the opportunity to develop an increasingly deep connection with someone, to have them be intimately entwined in my goals, dreams and fears. I guess you could say I’m attracted to the romance of it.

Maybe it’s a reverse case of the “grass is greener on the other side” mentality. We feel like we need to defend whatever lifestyle we’re currently in at the expense of devaluing the alternative. Or maybe the people who argue there are “types” are right.

I’ve always scoffed at that idea, that some people are just predisposed to prefer coupledom or singledom. But really, we change so much over the course of our lives (or even the few years we spend in college) that it seems hasty to divide everyone into a nice, neat binary.

Whatever the case, we should strive for happiness in our personal lives. If you find playing the field and single sex better, by all means, stick to that. But keep in mind that doesn’t make being in a duo any less fun.

Contact Elisabeth Bahadori at sex@dailycal.org or follow her on Twitter: @lisabaha.

The post In defense of relationships appeared first on The Daily Californian.

In her provocatively titled new book “The End of Sex,” noted religion and sexuality scholar Donna Freitas does something rather unusual — she attacks the notorious college “hookup culture” from the feminist left.

Commentators sometimes nostalgically lament the supposed collapse of courtship among young people. But as of late, feminists have generally been more sanguine about the culture of casual sex on campus. Hanna Rosin articulated the argument best when she wrote last year that “feminist progress right now largely depends on the existence of the hookup culture,” because “an overly serious suitor fills the same role an accidental pregnancy did in the 19th century: a danger to be avoided at all costs, lest it get in the way of a promising future.”

Broadsides against promiscuity, on the other hand, are typically associated with puritanical social conservatism. They frequently rely on the idea that too much sex is inherently sinful or that it damages our integrity as human beings. New York Times columnist David Brooks, for example, once proclaimed that “anyone who has several sexual partners in one year is committing spiritual suicide.”

But today’s elite college students couldn’t care less about religious, spiritual or moral arguments against casual sex. And it’s not just that we are less religious than older generations. Educated Millennials have a distinctively libertarian social outlook. As social psychologist Jonathan Haidt wrote, “there’s something about the process of becoming comparatively well-off and educated that seems to shrink the moral domain down to its bare minimum — I won’t hurt you, you don’t hurt me, and beyond that, to each her own.”

Freitas’ book could prove to be more influential than past treatises on hookup culture because she recognizes the socially libertarian ethos that pervades college campuses. Though Freitas has a background in theology, she eschews rhetoric about abstract moral concepts like sanctity or degradation, opting instead to make a detailed case that casual sex does real, tangible harm. She appeals to socially progressive priorities, like rape and gender inequities, rather than conservative concerns about debauchery and moral collapse. In other words, she argues that casual sex violates even Haidt’s minimalist definition of morality.

Her commentary on the complex relationship between hookup culture and sexual assault is especially lucid. She describes the experience of one young woman who “was so out of it that not only was she unable to consent, she was too drunk to move away when someone was ‘masturbating into her mouth.’ That this sexual assault went unreported by her is a given — a big part of what hookup culture teaches both women and men on campus is that ‘sex just happens,’ especially when you’re drunk.” She suggests that sexual assault is inextricably linked to the culture of casual sex and that the two must be addressed together.

Gender inequalities also feature prominently in Freitas’ indictment. She enumerates a number of themes for campus parties she observed during her research: “CEOs and their Secretary Hos,” “Superheroes and Supersluts,” “Bussinessmen and Office Sluts” — you get the idea. Women are expected to show up drunk and half-naked to these events, where many hookups take place. According to Freitas’ surveys, women believed participating in these parties was “the only way to get the male attention they craved — male attention that has become extremely fraught and hard to win in any other way within the context of hookup culture.”

Resistance to the hookup culture has emerged on some elite college campuses. Students at Harvard, Stanford and Princeton founded “Anscombe Societies,” socially conservative groups dedicated to “a proper understanding for the role of sex and sexuality,” as Princeton’s puts it. But these groups use an outdated moral lexicon that relies on stigma and taboos that have been largely dismantled in the decades since the sexual revolution. It’s no wonder that, even though Freitas’ surveys indicate that many students are uncomfortable with the hookup culture, the Anscombe societies have failed to attract a serious following.

Freitas’ book isn’t perfect. Her tone might at times seem retrograde to some college students, who do not object to a level of laxity toward sex even if they are uncomfortable with the hookup culture as it currently exists. And she fails to put forward any solutions that could plausibly have a noticeable impact on the problem she so vividly describes. The best she can come up with is having parents and professors educate students more about the emotional harm wrought by the hookup culture.

But maybe she doesn’t need to explicitly offer solutions. “The End of Sex,” with a bevy of data and anecdotes, builds a powerful practical case against excessive casual sex — one that will speak to Millennials’ libertarian social and ethical outlook. Maybe that’s enough.

Jason Willick is the assistant opinion page editor. Contact him at jwillick@dailycal.org or follow him on Twitter: @jawillick.

The post The politics of hookups appeared first on The Daily Californian.

The first time a guy did some back-door probing during sex, I freaked. All I could think about was the potential of things getting very, very messy. When I voiced my concerns, what I got in return was a laugh and a casual “So?”

I decided to be open-minded and give it a go. The resulting orgasm was so intense I could feel its waves throughout my entire body. When I tried to return the favor later that week, a simple “So?” didn’t cut it. I had to convince this guy to let me use a finger on him, and after only a few minutes, he begged me to stop. It wasn’t that we needed more lube or that my nail was sharp. The problem, as he so eloquently put it, was that he felt “gay.”

I tried to reassure him, but no avail. Now, this guy was straight and had never shown any signs of being homophobic. I didn’t really get it. Why would he react so negatively to something he’d been eager to try on me just last week? We talked for a bit longer, and then it was settled: His back door was (and would remain) firmly shut.

What a shame. Anal play allows for prostate stimulation, which can bring a guy to orgasm all by itself. In fact, the prostate is such a source of pleasure that it’s often referred to as the “male G-spot.” It can be indirectly stimulated by gently kneading the perineum (the space between the anus and testicles), but a finger right on it provides much more intense pleasure.

A lot of straight guys, though, will freak out if you mention it. I once asked my friend’s boyfriend if he ever let her do it to him. Instead of answering, he chided me for thinking he was “some kind of homo.” Quite the charmer, this guy.

For all my heterosexual male readers, let me tell you something. Having a finger, butt plug or dildo in your ass does not make you gay. It makes you awesome. First, it shows that you know what you want, which is hot. Second, it shows that you feel comfortable about your sexuality, which is hotter. Third, it’s going to lead to a mind-blowing orgasm. You can judge for yourselves whether that’s hot or not.

Let’s keep in mind what the word “gay” even means. In its original sense, it means “happily excited,” and now, in more common usage, it’s a synonym for “homosexual” (which means your sexual desire is directed towards someone of the same sex). Please note that nowhere in the second definition are butts mentioned.

By insinuating that anal play makes you “gay,” you are literally saying, “I believe that a finger or toy near or in my anus will force me to be attracted to men.” Yeah, and me painting my nails is going to make me fluent in Portuguese. Guys, a vibrating dildo in your behind will not make you gay overnight. In fact, it won’t make you gay at all.

To be more precise with our language, then, the notion is that anal play will make you be perceived as gay. May I ask what is so wrong with that? It’s not like someone is mistaking you for an avid neo-Nazi. It’s more similar to being asked if you’re British. A simple “no, I’m not” will clear things up, and then we can all get on with our lives without making a big fuss of it.

This stigmatized response to anal play just points to societal homophobia. Gay people have sex, fall in love and suffer heartbreak just as straight people do. They’re not some vulgar separate species. They’re not animals. Let’s stop acting as though being mistaken for gay is some big insult. It’s not.

For those readers who are interested in trying anal play, here are a few guidelines to make it as enjoyable as possible. First, try to empty your bowels a couple of hours before play, and then take a shower and clean your anus. Start with something small like a finger, and make sure to use anal lube, which is thicker than traditional vaginal lube.

The two most comfortable positions for anal play are on all fours or laying down with your legs pulled into your chest. Get comfortable, go slow and stop if you feel any pain. The male prostate is located about an inch inside the anus, toward the stomach.

A great first-time experience is to have your partner gently massage your prostate while going down on you. When you’re comfortable with a finger, look into butt plugs, anal beads and dildos.

By all means, if you’re not into trying anal play, don’t do it. I just hope you have a better reason than “that’s just gay.” For everyone else, get your toys ready, and in the original sense of the word, go have a gay old time.

Contact Elisabeth Bahadori at sex@dailycal.org or follow her on Twitter: @lisabaha.

The post Anal play for all appeared first on The Daily Californian.