My college roommate and I would wake up simultaneously as our alarms blared into our dreams. From the right side of the room, came a croaking, “fuuUCK”; from the left, a whining “Shi-it”. We liked to say that I started every day off with a fuck, and she started it with a shit.

Over the summer, I found myself homeless and living off the charity of friends for a period of time. Eventually a good guy friend and I settled down into the kitchen of a pot-engulfed renegade artist colony. We had been friends for a long time, so I didn’t have any qualms about it. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if he was heterosexual. For the two weeks before school started, he and I spent almost every moment of every day together: working, cooking, and hanging out. I did his laundry, and he gave me rides. We timed our schedules so that we could work out together. I started to feel like I cared for him, much more than in a friend or roommate way, like I wanted to take care of him, and him to take care of me. But we were just friends, so nothing more ever crossed my mind…

“I’m so cold!” Every morning (when I could manage to wake up in the morning, that is), the even-in-the-summertime chill crept underneath my comforters and led me to cry out. From his bed (well, really just a futon cushion spread on the floor), my roommate always faithfully offered me a blanket. When I woke up on the last day that we were to share that kitchen together, I whined, eyes closed, “I’m so cold!”. Unsatisfied with his usual blanket offer, I replied, “No, I need a fucking heat generator!”

I suddenly felt my comforter lift and a body fall onto the bed beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and said, “I’ll warm you up”.

And that is how I started dating my friend and roommate. A pleasant surprise, like an unassuming box of chocolates.

This chain of events started when my best friend bought me the book, He’s Just Not That Into You for Christmas. I had the biggest crush on the guy who lived down my hall. In fact, I would time my appearances in the dining hall to coincide with his meal schedule and choose my routes around the dorm to maximize my chances of bumping into him. But after almost a whole quarter of my obsession, I decided that enough was enough and that if he didn’t reciprocate after giving him so many opportunities, that he “just was not that into me”.
It’s funny how things turn around. The last day of the quarter before break, he and I were hanging out in my room. No longer restrained by the awkwardness of attraction, we were chatting while giving each other back massages. Eventually, we found ourselves fooling around and after a few steamy moments on his bed he asked me to get a condom and I obliged.
I didn’t feel attracted to him at all; I just wanted to have sex. From our massage chat I learned that he was a virgin. In retrospect, I should have considered his feelings more; a random one-night stand is not the most memorable way to lose your virginity, and I was taking that moment away from him. But at that moment, I must admit that I didn’t care about him at all. I was just thinking about myself.
I know that men get a power kick out of having sex with virgins but what about the other way around? It’s a power dynamic that was completely new to me. Instead of the usual reciprocity, I found myself confronted with almost complete sexual dominance. So I blanked. He was nervous, I was nervous. Erections went limp, vaginas went dry. I tried to reassure him that he was doing it right. I answered his questions of, “how is it” with the parroted, “it’s really good”. I tried my best to be understanding and to not let my disappointment and frustration show. But the night ended anti-climatically, with two used condoms and zero orgasms.
I’m not saying don’t have sex with people less experienced than you are. In fact, I bet it could be a great experience! But if you do, let me offer the following words of advice (I must apologize that this essay is very heteronormative, as I don’t have much experience in anything else):

For the experienced girls:

Do not put so much effort into making the guy ejaculate. Too many girls think that this is the ultimate marker of their sexual abilities. Just enjoy yourself! Don’t be afraid to take control if he seems to be unsure.

If he seems nervous, don’t keep going. Try taking a break for a while and doing something else, like oral sex, hand job, or other romantic things. It’s a good way to take your mind off the pressure of performing.

If he asks you if he is good, don’t lie. If he’s not good, don’t tell him that he’s the best you’ve ever had. Just speak plainly (without putting him down). For example, “Everyone is trying to figure it out their first time”.
For the guys who have sex with more experienced girls:

Do not be intimidated or threatened by a more experienced woman. Try to have positive feelings, such as flattery and confidence that she is willing to share her body with you. Do not be afraid to let her “take the reins” so to speak. Who knows, you may be rewarded mentally and sexually.

Do not feel like you have to ejaculate. Putting too much emphasis on ejaculation places a lot of stress and hampers erection. Just enjoy yourself!

Remember, mindset is everything! You won’t enjoy yourself sexually if you don’t feel comfortable and at ease.

I don’t want to be tired all the time.

I don’t want to be constantly catching up.

I don’t want to always make excuses to other people.

I  don’t want to be me.

I took a nap today, setting the alarm for thirty minutes before my 4:00 meeting. I reached for my phone, assuming I had plenty of time since I hadn’t heard my alarm yet. Fuck. A digital 4:10 and the image of my supervisor stared me down, yelling at me for being late again, asking me what was wrong with my life.

I wish I could say this were an isolated incident, but it’s not. It’s a lifestyle. Last minute emails to my adviser, explaining why I hadn’t finished my thesis draft yet. Flaking on my friends because I had double-booked myself. Canceling appointments, relying on the fact that I was still ‘too sick’ recovering from swine flu.

There are many reasons why I haven’t written anything in two months on my blog. One of them is that I didn’t feel like I needed it. Things were going well in my life, for an extended period of time. I was a senior, I was socializing with friends, I was acing all of my classes. Then I realized that this feeling of being on top of things was just an unstable equilibrium, and any small series of events, like having someone with a panic attack yell at me, like my car breaking down, or like having swine flu and missing a week of classes, will tip me over the edge. And I don’t want to be that person anymore.

It ends today. (Or at least I will try). Even if I only reach that unstable equilibrium again, I just need to climb out of this rut.

No more..

• complaining about my life
• staying up late to get ahead in work
• taking naps during the day
• missing my alarms (set multiple alarms)
• bumming around and feeling guilty about it
• feeling bad for myself