Articles

FOR LOVE ADVICE, BROTHERS ARE PRETTY WORTHLESS
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
NOVEMBER 14, 2003

What do men really want?

Hell if I know.  They don’t usually like to say.  And whenever I force one to grudgingly enlighten me, I’m pretty sure most of his response comes out of his … well, not his mouth.

Lying to members of the opposite sex isn’t solely a male idiosyncrasy.  Women fib just as much — and about a wider variety of subjects — but we’re usually better at it, perhaps because we like smaller, more subtle fabrications.

Men, on the other hand, tell colossal lies about any situation involving sex and whether those pants make your ass look huge.  Unless he lives in Dupont, he really doesn’t care what your pants look like, he just wants them off.  Off of you, your best friend, her roommate and maybe even her roommate’s hot mom.  And when guys are after that, they’ll never be honest.  Sorry.

The solution?  Go to family.  If anyone can tell you your ass looks huge, it’s them. Yep, brothers and sisters are founts of honesty about the unintelligible minds of the opposite gender.

Whenever I need hard truth I ask my baby brother Britt.  A sophomore double majoring in physics and philosophy, Britt is much cooler than I am and always has been.

Like most guys, Britt feels that his level of stubbornness directly correlates with his masculinity.  So I know it’s going to take some formidable persuasion to get him to give me answers. Fortunately, today is his 20th birthday, and if he wants to get something from me other than Ralph Lauren polos and pastel cable knit sweaters (Britt: “nooooo … anything but that!!”), he’ll fess up.

Julia: So Britt, tell me: what do men really want?
Britt: Oh, god. (I can hear him rolling his eyes 3,000 miles away) Sex.
J: Are you trying to piss me off?
B: (laughs) Umm … next question.
J: Fine. What are college guys looking for in a girlfriend?
B: Umm. Reliable sex?

See, this is the scary part. I think he’s being honest. I suspect that with our little pressure-driven lives, most guys, no matter how much they claim otherwise, are all after sex. Sure, everyone wants great conversation and intimacy and all that — but it’s secondary.

Thus, my next question:

J: Why are guys complete tools?
B: False.
J: That doesn’t make any sense.
B: (Laughs)
J: OK, why are guys total pricks?
B: Girls like pricks.

Hmm.  Interesting point.  Women do seem to like pricks. But the key word there is “seem.”  What they actually like is his manly confidence and the thrill of the chase that often comes along with being a prick. Women aren’t really big fans of the whole "being treated like crap" part.

J: How do guys deal so well with breakups? And how can we girls avoid becoming a pathetic mess afterwards?
B: Who likes rejection? We just pretend it never happened. So don’t dwell on the breakup; distract yourself with the things you love to do.

Wow, some solid advice there. And to think I always used to believe hysterical sobbing and hours of over-analysis were the keys to moving on …

J: Do any of your guy friends say they’re in love?
B: Love?
J: You say that word like you’ve never said it aloud before.
B: Well, I’ve never talked about love with a guy.
J: Why?
B: I dunno, I’ve never even thought to bring up the subject.

This boggles my mind. I’m happy if an hour goes by in which I don’t speculate with my girl friends on an astounding variety of love-related issues, questions, theories and male offenses.

J: You know, you’re reinforcing all the stereotypes.
B: Maybe they’re true.  Look, if a single guy is out on a Friday night, his goal is not to fall madly in love, but if he runs into a really hot chick, then sweet.  That’s the key difference between women, who actively seek love, and men, who stumble onto it the way some people stumble onto dog poop.
J: So you guys don’t care if you fall in love or not?!
B: No … Why would I spend my time wallowing over something I don’t have?
J: Because life doesn’t have any meaning without love.
B: Sure, if literally no one loved you, obviously that would be a serious problem.
J: So why do women want soul mates and men want friends with benefits?
B: If you figure out the answer to that, you will rule the universe.
J: Britt, come on. Work with me here.
B: I think the answer is to have superficial sexual relationships which are empty and meaningless but have all the characteristics of real relationships.
J: That’s not fair. I want it all, sex and a meaningful relationship.
B: Well, I guess you’re talking about a lifetime of happiness and partnership — who doesn’t want that? (Burps loudly)
J: (sarcastic) That’s great, Britt. In conclusion, you’ve made me really depressed about the nature of men. Can you redeem your half of the species?
B: Nope.
J: Fine. Any last advice for the ladies?
B: Sure. Consider all guys your “friends with benefits.”

Maybe he’ll get Ralph Lauren polo shirts after all.

Posted by Julia Allison at 03:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

REAL WORLD STARS: HOT BUT PROBABLY NOT BOYFRIEND MATERIAL
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
NOVEMBER 7, 2003

We of the MTV generation have a curious relationship with the stars we mythologize.  Some of us put pictures of Justin Timberlake on the wall.  Some of us score backstage passes to 50 Cent.  And some of us — well, me — ask a “Real World” cast member to drop his drawers for a shot of tequila at McFadden’s.

He did. It was nothing new to him — he’d done it on national television.  And probably not for sex, either, but instead for the readily available bit of fame.

This is the dirty truth of reality TV: people watch the shows, join the shows, live the shows — not just for the easy hook-ups and the fun-filled sojourns to exotic locales, but to milk the camera for their 30-minutes-a-week of celebrity.

As Andy Warhol put it, “In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.”  In actuality, this should be changed to “in the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes on at least one really horrible reality show.”

In order to facilitate Warhol’s prediction, Hollywood came up with a new concept: a streamlined reality casting corps, traveling the country searching for good-looking, inhibition-free, attention-hungry future reality superstars.  After whetting the fame seekers’ appetites for renown by filming an interview during the day, the company lures them to a local bar with the promise of meeting a real reality star — from such memorable shows as “Real World: Paris” and “Real World: Las Vegas.”

Big time reality casting usually targets hotspots for attractive, camera-loving youth like Las Vegas, New York and Los Angeles.  Reality Casting Call instead goes to places like Baltimore, Richmond and Washington, the ugly step-cities of the reality craze.  Let’s be realistic here: no one wants to watch future — or current — politicians. Why do you think C-SPAN and “K Street” have such low ratings?

There’s a reason they say politics is showbiz for ugly people.

But don’t tell that to Josh Landsberger, a 28-year-old federal government employee I met last Thursday at the Reality Bar Crawl in McFadden’s on M Street.

“Are you here for the reality casting?” I asked him innocently. He shook his head no, explaining that he had already been cast. “But I can’t disclose which show I’m on,” Josh confided with the clandestine nature of a not-yet-aired icon. Less than five minutes later, he admitted he was making it up, but that he had “actually considered” being on his favorite: Love Cruise. “Oh sure, I’d be on one — in a heartbeat.”

George Mason juniors Courtney Dofflenyr and Sonia Garmerian, both 21, blonde and petite, and both dressed in scandalous devil costumes almost leaped out of their thigh-highs when I mentioned the words “reality,” “show” and “would you be on one?”

“Oh yes, yes, definitely!!” they chirped in unison. “It would be a good experience!”

They couldn’t hide their disappointment when I told them that I didn’t have the ability to provide them with a reality role, and they had obviously missed out on Reality Casting’s interviews that day.  “That’s OK,” chimed one. “My parents would kill me!”

Most people at McFadden’s Thursday evening didn’t seem to know anything about the “Reality Bar Crawl” other than rumors that there would be two hot “Real World” studs serving drinks. This proves to me, if there was ever a doubt, that the reality stars become more famous the more sex they have. Or the more sex people want to have with them.

Steven of “Real World: Las Vegas” and Ace of “Real World: Paris,” are both men with whom a lot of women wouldn’t mind having sex. Clad only in bathrobes, I figured both hotties were into exhibitionism (and what else is reality TV?).  I posed my first question: “What if I asked you to take off your underwear?”

“I’d do it,” said Ace, obviously game for anything (a common “Real World” trait). “No, wait,” he said, reconsidering, “give me an hour.” Then he made me a drink that tasted suspiciously like it was 100 percent alcohol.

“Why’d you do the “Real World?” I asked Ace.

“I always wanted to try out,” he replied, cautioning that “still, you really never get used to the cameras being in your face all the time.”

But this is obviously a lie.  Ace is used to the cameras — Ace loves the cameras.  So does Steven from Las Vegas.  “If you watch the show, I’m like the ‘Real World’ slut.”

Oh, really? My ears perked.  Just how many are we talking about, I asked him, referring to his number — yes, that number.

“I passed 30 long ago,” he winked.  Ew?

So what can we all learn from this rush of reality show wannabes? None of them are boyfriend material — because what makes good television rarely makes a good relationship.  Sure, they may be ridiculously good-looking, and a lot of fun to watch, but a cute 20-something deeply confused about his life’s purpose, all the while wondering where the next camera might be, well, it just gets old after a while.

As for Steve and Ace?  I'd guess they have about three minutes left — combined.  But somehow, I think that's all they'll need. ;)

Posted by Julia Allison at 03:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)