Articles

WHAT GUYS SHOULD LEARN TO WEAR UNDER THERE
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
SEPTEMBER 26, 2003

If you made it to Student Activities Fair two weeks ago, you might have spotted me holding up a pair of bright pink lace “boy-short” panties, harassing innocent passersby.

“Any comments on these hot little undies?” I inquired.

After recovering from the initial shock of being confronted by such a garment in the usually lingerie-free student center, most guys stammered:

“Yeah, I prefer boxers.”

Interesting. So do I.

Last week I borrowed a pair of The Boyfriend’s boxers (for research purposes, of course). Roomy, machine-washable, relatively cheap, and best of all, they never get stuck in unmentionable crevices. One lucky half of the population gets to wear these all the time!

Still, men aren't always quick to pick up on the subtleties of proper undergarment wear. They have a tendency to select underthings like so: Pick out boxers. Buy them. Go home. Watch “The Man Show.”

Yep, some guys need just a little more guidance.

“Oh yeah,” my 19-year-old brother wanted to know, “but why should I care?” (It should perhaps be noted here that this brother does not actually buy his own undergarments; choosing instead to rely on a stockpile of Banana Republic and Gap hoarded from various Christmas and birthday celebrations.)

Well, baby brother — and anyone else questioning the significance of this topic — you should care simply because it will affect your sex life.  If that’s not enough of an incentive to clean out your underwear drawer, I don’t know what is.

Good! So let’s get started!

Briefs, aka “Tighty-Whities”

Although no male I know (over the age of 8 and not including my dad) would admit to owning this garment, I would bet that a certain world leader with the initials GWB has more than a couple of pairs.  It just seems like a Republican thing.

But maybe I’m being uncultured here.  After all, some people actually think there are nations other than America (I know, crazy, right?).  These foreigners may wear tight pants … and perhaps they prefer tight-fitting undergarments as well.

I consulted my favorite Euros and concluded that: 1) there seems to be a proliferation of brief-wearing males overseas, 2) no one knows who these males are and 3) most blame France.

Meanwhile, the feminine aversion to this style stayed constant, regardless of national origin.  One freshman dismissed the unfortunate trend. “They’re definitely more common in Europe,” she confirms, “But when I see them, all I can do is laugh.”

I think it’s fair to say that not many guys want the first reaction after they remove their pants to be laughter.

Thong

Does anyone actually know a guy who owns one of these? (No, I mean someone they didn’t meet at Hedonism II or Nation.)

Although I’ve never personally encountered this regrettable bedroom spectacle, my girl friend Bridget hasn’t been so fortunate. One of the men she hooked up with last year had a habit of making interesting … fashion statements. “Every time he got naked, I thought, ‘Ew, a thong? That’s gross!! I’m taking it off ASAP.’”

Hey, maybe that’s the result he was going for ...

Commando

Wearing nothing but pants and a smile is certainly your prerogative. If you do so, however, I would politely suggest keeping the state of your … affairs … to yourself.

While I was in Red Square the other day, a fellow overheard me pondering this topic and cheerfully reported: “It’s laundry day so I’m free-balling it!”

Um … wow. Hard not to attach a visual to that. And then the resulting questions: Is that even comfortable? What about zipper problems? Do you wash your jeans afterward?

Actually, I really don’t want to know.

Boxer-Briefs

In one situation and only one may you wear boxer-briefs: you are the proud owner of a ridiculously sculpted rear. (Please stop trying to check yourself out from behind. It’s impossible unless you go into a women’s dressing room at a large department store.)

Those with this extraordinary quality include male models, men who look like male models and the drop-dead gorgeous gay guys on “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”

Still wavering? Well, if teenage girls continuously squeal “Oh my god!! Is that your ass on the new Abercrombie bag!?!” you’ll be fine.

Although if your butt could be on a billboard — why are you going to Georgetown?

Boxers

Clearly, these are the most socially acceptable. Peer pressure! Everyone’s wearing them!

However, let me be absolutely clear. Wearing the right style of drawers may not save you from making freakish faux pas.

Under no circumstances should you be tempted to wear:

• Boxers with juvenile prints — no cartoons! Cartoons = big turn-off!!
• Boxers that say “Happy Father’s Day.” (Oh, you think no one would ever do that? Try my high school boyfriend. He wasn’t a father — and I really didn’t want him to be! Talk about killing the moment.)
• Boxers that are clearly from former girlfriends.
• Anything at all from Joe Boxer — especially the big, dumb, smiley yellow ones. Come on, when was that in fashion? 1995. If you’re still wearing them, we know you’ve had them for eight years. Underwear has an expiration date, boys.

If they have holes in them, throw them out.  If they have Simpsons characters, throw them out.  If they have stains on them … Oh my GOD, throw them out!

Think classy.  Think whites, blues, subtle prints.  Think Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, Banana Republic, Gap.  Think clean, please.

Think … would my girlfriend look good in these?

I may swipe a few more pairs of The Boyfriend’s boxers for sleepwear, although a guy friend of mine thinks that’s odd.

“I don’t like looking at girls wearing my boxers,” he says, “It kinda weirds me out.”  My brother agrees, “Those items are not to be shared.”  I suppose I can see his point. If a guy put on my underthings I’d be a little weirded out too.

Still, I’m keeping the boxers.  He needs a few new pairs anyway.

Posted by Julia Allison at 03:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

FOR LOVE OR MONEY: THE ECONOMICS OF ROMANCE
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
SEPTEMBER 12, 2003

The psychological experiment masquerading as “reality television” that was For Love or Money 2 came to a laborious two-hour conclusion this past Monday.

In case you missed it, the girl (Erin) chose money over love, and the guy (Chad) chose love (or lust, in my opinion) over money. That Erin “generously” bestowed Chad with only $500,000 of her two million prize was a detail not lost on my roommate. She sputtered incredulously at the tv, “That greedy B---!”

Ah, when money and romance collide.

Oh, sure, we’ll probably never be confronted with the option of a million bucks or an attractive mate. And if we were, we’d definitely go for the million. Please. Even my friend Sasha admits he’d pick the money over his girlfriend of a year – whom he loves very much, and who is ridiculously good looking, in case you were wondering.

Is there really something to be learned from such an improbable situation? Come on, this is reality television! Of course it’s unrealistic. That’s why it’s so fascinating. The nuanced chaos of real life doesn’t allow us to isolate variables such as “love” or “money” and examine them objectively.

The show makes a valid point — no matter how contrived or transparent it may seem. Money does affect our romantic decisions. Period. Just because those choices are rarely so explicit doesn’t mean we should deceive ourselves that they don't exist or aren’t important.

Although we have a tendency to muddle fiscal issues by phrasing them in other terms (“He doesn’t have ambition,” “She’s too materialistic”), we’re only hurting ourselves. After all, we have to figure out these concerns sometime — preferably before hundreds of dollars in couple’s therapy.

And if you think things are difficult now, in a few years add rent, taxes, and babies!  It’s not a coincidence financial disagreement is listed as one of the top reasons for divorce in the United States.

Bottom line?  We all allow money to affect our relationships in some way or another, although we may not realize it or couch it in those terms.

  So how to handle the minefield of love and money?

Well ... it’s complicated. Influenced by our parents, our community, and our national culture, we grow up socialized to believe that money should be saved and spent in certain ways.

I’m a total tightwad, for example.  Out to dinner one evening, I once questioned why The Boyfriend needed to order a $2.25 bottle of sparkling water.  So unnecessary, I thought, when you can drink perfectly good tap water — for free! It's no coincidence I was picking up the check for that meal.

The fact is, even minor relationship expenses may trip us up. For many students, the most significant interaction we’ve had with the money-love issue is the contentious debate over whether or not “The Guy Should Pay.”

Should a guy pay for everything? Does Wisey’s count as a date? Should you feel obligated to go dutch if he has less money? What if he has more?

I was schooled in the old-fashioned Rules, which state “It’s just chivalrous for men to pick up their dates and pick up the checks.”

There is no other reasoning.  That’s it.  Sort of like when your parents insisted you do something “just because.”

Really. It just feels wrong for a man to expect a woman to split the check.  Recently, however, my knee-jerk assumption that only a callous ass would do such a thing was called into question by a certain boyfriend of mine, who was, alas, quite obviously not raised in Connecticut. Or even this country, for that matter.  He seemed to think that expenses should be shared. Shared?!?

Incredulous, I asked a few male collegians what they thought:  Who should pay?

From Los Angeles: “Of course I pay. It’s the rules, the guy always pays. Especially on the first couple dates. And I don’t expect to get anything in return.”

From Chicago: “If you’re trying to hook up with a girl, you should NOT make her pay for the dinner that you’re using to set up for the sex. That’s really stupid.”

From Greenwich, Conn.: “It’s nice when you're dating a girl and she offers to treat for things (which of course you don’t let her do) … [pause] … but it’s even nicer when you have a girlfriend who has enough money to pay for late night pizza.”

From Bethesda, Maryland: “Times are definitely changing, but people are a product of their environment. I was raised in a conservative traditional household; taught to respect women – holding doors, picking up the checks. That’s how I show my appreciation. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is.”

It shouldn’t be that way, but it is.

Remember the $2.25 bottle of sparkling water I didn't want The Boyfriend to order?  Now, if he had been paying, as he most often does, I wouldn’t have noticed — or cared.  But it was going on my credit card, so it was my decision whether to splurge on expensive H20, or scrimp on water from the sink.

After all, what does it really mean for somebody to pay for you? Money is a type of control; whoever has the cash gets to choose what's important.

But no one can be happy in a relationship when they feel that they’re being taken advantage of. You can be obstinate like my roommate and resolutely declare, “money and love don’t mix.”  Great!  That’s wonderful. Next stop, the convent.  Because in the real world, money and love have to mix.

So what’s the answer? Well ... I don’t know. But I do know that we can’t pretend the problem doesn’t exist. And although dealing frankly with money issues is difficult, what’s the worst that could happen? Even if your love chooses money over you, at least it’s not on national television.

Posted by Julia Allison at 12:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

THREE'S COMPANY: HOOKING UP WITH YOU HAVE A ROOMMATE
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
SEPTEMBER 5, 2003

At a university where 90 percent of the student body lives on campus, “Your place or mine?” should really be, “Your double or my triple?

Yeah, I know.  Just doesn’t have the same ring.

College hook-ups are rife with this irony. Technically, we have the freedom to make out whenever and wherever we want. But unless we’re one of the fortunate (or unsociable) few who have singles, there's a large obstacle stopping us: our roommates.

Yep, there’s nothing worse than waiting for a moment alone with your significant other (or the girl you met 20 minutes ago at Rhinos Bar), and having your roommate walk in complaining that he has an exam he has to study for — right then! In the room! Next to your bed! When the library is two blocks away!

Definitely a buzz-kill.

The last time I shared a room was more than a dozen years ago. Bunk beds with the sibling didn’t present much of a problem in 1989; my seven year old brother wasn’t exactly doing a lot of after-hours macking on the ladies (and frankly any nocturnal action I got then consisted of making out with my arm). Yeah, we had a good deal: fight during the day, sleep at night.

In college, most of us do the opposite. And fighting may not only occur in the night, but about things — or people — that go bump in the night. With you there. Trying to sleep. Failing to sleep. Cursing yourself for not getting the squeaky beds removed when you first moved in. Cursing yourself for not being enough of a nutcase to get a medical single. Cursing yourself for not having someone to help you squeak your bed. Vowing to find that person, tomorrow. In your computer science class, if necessary.

The volatile combination of hormones, independence, alcohol and shared living quarters often leads to unintended — and amusing — consequences. Most importantly, at least for those of us who like to gossip, we're left with a lifetime supply of ridiculous stories involving roommates, sex and sometimes even the memorable instances when one sees the former having the latter.

So what’s a horny co-ed — or a sleepless roommate — to do?

“Oh, I can tell you,” my friend Sarah said with the confidence that only a recent graduate holding an impressive four year record of unusual hook ups can muster.

“Hook up in the hallway.”

Yeah … hmm. I’m not sure which hallway Miss Sarah is referring to, but it certainly can’t be the one outside my Nevils apartment, because not only could 34 people walk by within one minute, but I would certainly get a disease from the crud on the carpet (the result of beer and Wisey’s from the last two decades).

“It’s funny how desperate students are to hook up,” said one senior whose roommate had infamously disappeared into the bathroom of their apartment for an entire night with her fling.

Students are renowned for their innovative — sometimes unconventional — solutions to these sorts of problems. Legend has it that the Leavey Esplanade, the benches in Dahlgren Quad and bushes next to White Gravenor have from time to time served as an outlet for frustrated lovers.

Although the outdoors may be attractive for some students, most take their chances in a room with four walls.

Personally, I’m a big fan of the whole “lock your door” thing, although I realize that only works if 1) your door has a lock and 2) your roommate doesn’t have the key.

My friend Colleen insists that the oh-so-subtle placement of a biology book outside the door will cleverly clue in a roommate.  Other stealthy methods include placing a piece of clear scotch tape over the keyhole, signaling the roommate to “Stop! Think! And walk slowly away.”  Unless of course, you’ve done what some guys have, and turned the peephole around. That’s right: you see in, they can’t see out.  But voyeurism is a topic for another day.

Still, it seems that the propensity to engage in licentious activities with others around decreases as one gets older.

“It’s definitely a freshman thing,” insisted one senior.  His on-campus apartment is well known not only for its parties, but for the “sex nooks” in each of the rooms.  Still, he insisted he waits until his roommate has vacated the immediate area, and added, for clarification, “That’s just weird, man.”

My friend Kristy, also a senior, agrees: “Over the years you get smarter about it.  Looking back, I can’t believe what I did with my roommate in the room when I was a freshman.  By junior year I’d hear her breathe and we’d stop!”

While some students fly by the seat of their pants — or lack thereof — others choose to sit down and plan out future indiscretions to the best of their ability.

Last week, a group of my girlfriends in Village B actually had a meeting about the subject. Their conclusion: “Because we have bunked beds and the walls are paper thin, we should try to go to the guy’s room.”  If that proved to be impossible (after all, guys have roommates, too), they agreed to buy a futon for emergency hook-up use.

Others try to plan nights that each roommate “gets” the room. A sophomore I spoke with sputtered “that’s ridiculous,” explaining, “sometimes you just feel like going home with someone — right now, right here. Not tomorrow!”

But what to do with a roomie who just can’t compromise — ever?  One New South freshman I spoke with insists that hooking up with his roommate in the vicinity is “just plain disrespectful. ” After all, there’s always the lounge.  Although he did concede that he might still do it, “but only if I were drunk and really horny.”  Hey, at least he’s honest.

Ultimately, most students want to be understanding, mainly because someday they hope to be in the same position.  Badly.  “I guess you can’t get mad because you know there’s a time you’ll do it to them,” that former uncompromising freshman hedged.

Hey, keep your eyes open and you just may learn something.  Or have a good story to tell.

Posted by Julia Allison at 12:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)