I’ve never gone on spring break.  Oh sure, I thought about it.  Watched MTV on it.  Practiced “going wild” in front of my mirror to prepare for it.  But for some reason, I made it through my entire college career without ever experiencing the triple sweetness that is Simultaneous severe alcohol poisoning, Sunstroke and STDs … in a beach-centric locale, of course.

I sincerely regret missing out – shockingly, those things just aren’t as much fun once you’ve graduated.

But you, my wanton cupcakes, still have time!  In order to engage in the maximum amount of tropical debauchery before rent, gravity and liver failure take effect, follow my advice below.

Then get your ass on a plane to Mexico, sew a little pocket into your swimsuit to hold the condom and repeat this mantra to yourself: never again will I have so many more or less naked, nubile 19-year-olds wanting to jump my bones (unless I intend to become a professional athlete).

In other words, gather ye rosebuds, bitches.  You're in for a ride.

Continue reading "What Happens in Cancun ... Stays in Cancun. Sort of. Sometimes." »

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Name:  Mike Harrison
Age: Old with a British Accent
School: Manchester Metropolitan University in the UK – degree in Chemistry, Phd in Polymer Chemistry
Official Title: Senior Principal Scientist for Trojan
Cool Title: Condom Tester

How, exactly, does one test condoms?  Just put ‘em on and see what happens?
No.  The main stability test involves unrolling the condom onto a specialized post and forcing air into it until it expands to 40 liters in size.  Then you measure the pressure when the condom bursts.

Continue reading "So You Wanna Be ... A Condom Tester?" »

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The Official Intelligence-Pulchritude Fairness Equation usually works like this: you either get beauty, or you get brains.  You don’t get both.  And you certainly don’t get to go to Yale and simultaneously be a professional model.  That just pisses people off.

Continue reading "Being a Model Student" »

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Being a former college sex columnist is a dubious distinction.

I wrote news articles my freshman year (you know – riveting stuff like “Famed Physicist Addresses Packed Auditorium Crowd,” and the like).  No one read them.  But the first piece I did for my new column “Sex on the Hilltop,” the crowds (all 23 people who read the Georgetown student newspaper) went wild.  Okay, okay … or someone wrote an offended letter to the editor, which is pretty much the same thing.

“Sex and college go hand in rosy-palmed hand,” said Playboy in a 2003 article on college sex columnists (complete with a spread featuring University of Kansas columnist with nothing but her press pass.)  “University newspapers are finally writing about the one topic that really matters to their readers.”

Continue reading "Carrie Bradshaw 101: The Rise of the College Sex Columnist" »

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When I began my freshman year, I read a little book called “Making the Most Out of College.” It featured dozens of upperclass students and recent grads giving advice on various topics: grades, professors, dating, extracurriculars. The specifics were almost irrelevant, because all echoed an identical sentiment: “If I had only known then what I know now.”

News flash: You will feel this way in four years no matter what you do. The question is, how much will you suffer in the meantime?

Continue reading "Top 10 Dating Tips for College Freshman (*And Seniors Who've Forgotten)" »

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Gamekiller, noun: a jerk who thwarts your romantic prospects for the evening.  Just when you think you’re about to get some, they swoop in, leaving you blue-balled and alone.

Mo Rocca cares deeply about your sex life.  So deeply, in fact, that he’s devoted himself to tirelessly roaming the country, visiting colleges and spreading awareness about its mortal enemy: The Gamekiller.

Just call him Mo’ffy the Gamekiller Slayer.

Continue reading "Mo Rocca: Gamekillers, RIP" »

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A friend of mine at the University of North Carolina happily describes herself as “a COMMITTED online stalker.”  “I crave information,” she says, “and sometimes that’s not a good thing.”  Ah, technology – creating new armchair detectives with every Google search.

Whether or not you’ve ever used Match.com (which I assume you haven’t, given that it’s within the purview of the 45-64 demo), you’ve probably noticed the growing range and influence of methods for gathering information on your crushes.  Or your exes.  Or their exes.

Continue reading "HOTMail: The New Technology of Dating" »

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Little more than two years ago, Harvard roommates Mark Zuckerberg, Dustin Moskovitz and Chris Hughes were all fairly normal college sophomores.  They slept in, they studied occasionally, and for 10 days during winter finals they rallied around Mark as he programmed a little website called … Facebook.

Ah, Facebook.  Launched to the world of Harvard (is there another?) on February 4th, 2004, it has since expanded to more than 2,100 campuses and become a bona fide phenomenon.  A sensation.  A revolution.  And for millions of college students fighting against the powerful pull of procrastination, an obsession.

Continue reading "In Your Face! The College Entrepreneurs of Facebook" »

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The focus of the average male’s college education is three-pronged:  1) Maintain nocturnal hours so as to sleep easily during class. 2) Master the art of beer pong. 3) Get laid as often as possible.

The third, of course, causes the most trouble (although depending on your level of intoxication, beer pong can be tricky too), especially for those men who aren’t, well, traditional studs.

Neil Strauss is one of those men – or he was, at least.  Author of “The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists,” Strauss is arguably the most unlikely pickup artist you’d ever meet.  He’s a self-described “lump of nerd,” who, true to stereotype, happens to be bald, short and “so skinny that I look malnourished to most people.” (Damn, I wish I had that problem!)

Continue reading "No College Guy Left Behind" »

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Continue reading "7 Deadly College Sins: Overzelaous School Pride" »

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Walk of Shame, noun.

To traverse a route back to one’s home after spending the night in a romantic partner’s bed, often in identical clothes from the evening before.

“When a woman leaves the home of a man (quite possibly one she met the night before) in the early morning hours; hair sticking out in all directions, makeup half gone, with her undies in a pocket of her purse … looking trashy, romped and hungover.  Usually after a booty call.”

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Continue reading "The Walk of Shame" »

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Continue reading "The Case Against Monogamy" »

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Ask any man about women crying during sex and you’ll get a strange reaction.

First, there’s The Blank Stare – they have no idea what you’re talking about.

Then there’s the silence, which lasts … and lasts …  enough time for you to rethink the three glasses of champagne you had before you brought up the damn topic.

Just as you’re planning an escape route, he gives you this look – like you’ve somehow seen into his bedroom, circa high school.  He’s astounded.  “Once,” he says.  Or maybe “Yeah, twice, it was weird.”

The confusion is palpable. He still has no idea what happened.

Continue reading "Sad Sack: Crying During Sex" »

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Continue reading "The Sad Triumph of Ugly Men" »

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