I feel as though this one is pretty self explanatory, and if you’re still shaky on the basic premise, well, there’s really not much that I can say for your sense of morals. That being said, I’ll start with a reflection.

Back when we were mere pipsqueaks, our parents taught us not to take what isn’t ours. For the most part, I think that they told us this in the hopes that they wouldn’t have to check our pockets every time we walked out of a shop (why storeowners continue to place trinkets within arms reach of children, I have no idea). But also, because, they genuinely believed that stealing is just plain wrong. (Click here to read more…)

On Thursdays I’m taking the liberty of playing Monday Morning Quarterback. For these posts I’ll take the opportunity to add another part to my column, criticize myself, respond to comments and/or do whatever else I feel like doing.

One tidbit of the interview that I wasn’t able to include in the column because of space limitations:

Mustafa Shaikh: Do the same laws for alcohol usage apply to marijuana?

Kevin Beecham: Not really. The thing about marijuana is I would think it’d be really hard to prove that a woman was so high that they couldn’t resist. Alcohol is a different beast.

Somebody can get really sick, really drunk and kind of lose control of themselves when they’re drinking alcohol. I haven’t really seen that with marijuana.

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I laughed at the fact that all of the comments I got from this week’s edition were in reference to the preface to the actual meat of the column. Do any of you guys actually have a reaction to rape laws?

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LOL Bob Dole. First off, your comment was hilarious. Second off, the response to your comment  from the reader defending me was even funnier. Third off, I already said I would buy you a beer in my last Thursday Morning Quarterback.

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I feel like it has been a very tough transition from a lusty female who so delicately described her feelings mid-dorm-shower-sex, to a (for starters) male who has not given any recount of emotional sex …

What about raw, organic sex where the only intoxicant is the smell of each other’s skin, the heat of the other’s breath on your neck, and that tingling sensation down even every muscle fiber of your body…. Ah, R.I.P. Carmel…

What is this, a Harlequin romance novel? Anyone can write that stuff. Note:

“I recall this one-time after a most romantic evening in which I followed the  loveliest of ladies down to my basement. Her footsteps echoed through the corridor and only heightened the anticipation for what was about to transpire.

I continued to follow her with my ever watchful almond-shaped eyes. For a few seconds I dared to shutter my eyes just so I could be led on by the utter sweet fragrance that drifted from her auburn hair. After those few fleeting moments I was forced by my innards to gaze my eyes back on her for the emotions conjured up by her hair were too powerful for me to dwell on.”

Not too bad huh? And that was after five minutes.

I think you actually inspired me to write a column. I’m going to base it on sex elitists who are of the belief that if sex isn’t taking you to some higher level of being, you’re doing it wrong.

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At the very beginning of the semester, the Berkeley chapter of the National Organization for Women (BNOW) distributed fliers all around campus that read in big, bold letters: I Consensual Sex, followed by the definition of the word, “consent.” For about a week, I saw these fliers everywhere—one of my friends even took a flier, cut off and threw away the half with the definition, then taped the remaining half onto his door as a joke. I have to admit, I cracked a smile whenever I walked past his room.

The fact of the matter, though, is that when it comes to sex, consent is (Click here to read more…)

Are you in a monogamous relationship?

Are you interested in helping out Sex on Tuesday?

If you answered yes to both questions then you’re a prime candidate to take an anonymous survey. Here’s the way it works.

I’m trying to do a piece on the masturbation habits of couples. Since this is a touchy subject for some people I’m making this a completely anonymous survey.

Send me your and your partner’s e-mail addresses. I’ll forward those e-mail addresses to a second person who will give each survey taker an individual pin number.

Neither me, nor your partner will know the answers to the survey that you give because you will only be identifiable by your pin number.

Shoot me an e-mail at mshaikh@dailycal.org if you’re interested in helping out.

The air is getting colder, the leaves are starting to turn, and overpriced miniature pumpkins are for sale at that little produce stand on Sproul. Autumn has arrived. And with this glorious season comes that much-beloved holiday, Halloween.

As strange as it may seem, whenever I hear someone mention Halloween, I immediately think of slutty costumes. Actually, my first thought is more along the lines of Free Candy! But slutty costumes are a really close second. As soon as October rolls around, people begin to use “so what were you dressed as for Halloween?” as their conversation-starter of choice (a welcome change from “what’s your major?” in my opinion). And chances are, if you’ve asked a girl, her answer will be “a sexy (enter any costume idea, here).” It seems as though no one is ever just a normal nurse or a police officer. No, no, it’s got to be a naughty nurse or a dirty deputy. Yeah, those are actual costume names; I looked them up online. Something about being able to dress up for an evening of wild partying—wait, so how is this not exactly like every other Saturday night?—makes girls want to raise eyebrows and hemlines campus-wide.

Personally, I find costumes that joke about sex (plugs and sockets, one night stands, etc.) to be exponentially more entertaining than the mid-drift bearing, see-through versions out of which Legs Avenue makes a fortune. Clever without being too obvious always ranks higher in my book. I wasn’t at all surprised when that this past Halloween was no different than all the others—I saw my share of slutty schoolgirls and sultry sorceresses. But I can always hope that next year, all the ladies out there will be inspired to break the norm, and that will be a treat for sure.

Image Source: Librarian Avenger under Creative Commons

So you’re perusing the “Human Sexuality” section at Moe’s one afternoon, thumbing through a copy of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s “Venus In Furs.” Its margins are heavily annotated with interjections such as “Ahh!!” and “YES!!!” in distinctively masculine handwriting, especially next to the scenes detailing the protagonist Severin’s repeated requests to be whipped, beaten and called derogatory names by his lover Wanda. He also demands that she clothe her naked body with animal fur coats and little else.

You shut the book in terror, realizing that Sacher-Masoch’s work bares a troubling resemblance of your most recent romps in the proverbial hay. Suddenly a string of your boyfriend’s recent sexual requests flood your mind: (Click here to read more…)

On Thursdays I’m taking the liberty of playing Monday Morning Quarterback. For these posts I’ll take the opportunity to add another part to my column, criticize myself, respond to comments and/or do whatever else I feel like doing.

It’s funny, when I wrote this week’s column I fully expected people to misconstrue what I was writing.

All I did was write a simple piece about how alcohol and sex are intertwined in college life. People often drink to feel more comfortable interacting with others. Are you telling me this doesn’t exist?

Maybe you don’t want it to exist, but how can you hate on me for writing about the fact that it exists?

One more thing, I never said you should get someone else drunk to have sex with he/she.  I said you should have a couple drinks yourself. People are claiming that I condone raping people when the truth is the exact opposite is true.

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Here is an excerpt from an e-mail I received and my response. It encapsulates a lot of the ill-founded comments people were making.

Email: (Click here to read more…)

Picture this: you’re at a party, you’ve had a few drinks, and you’re feeling good. The music’s pumping, cute boys are abundant, and by golly, one of them is even coming over to talk to you right now! (OK, I would normally say feel free to adjust the genders of these hypothetical characters so that the scenario is most applicable to your own sexual preferences, but in this case, it’s kind of critical that the suitor has a penis. Straight girls and gay men, this one’s for you.) He polishes off his fifth beer, you quickly smooth out your hair and drain the screwdriver you’re holding, and the conversation commences. After a few arbitrary exchanges (hey, hi, how’s it going?, pretty well, etc.) you and your new-found friend start (Click here to read more…)

via SMBC Theater.

The other day, while browsing the Web and searching for ideas to blog about, I stumbled across a true gem. Despite the fact that it was a bit more scientific than I typically go for, I was fascinated. This article that I found delved into the mysterious realm of the human senses. You know how people talk about the senses being more powerful than we realize and how we say things like dogs and horses can smell fear? I’ll do you one better: according to what I read, humans can smell sex.

That’s right, ladies and gents, our sniffers are good for more than just telling us when Mom’s baking a batch of cookies. In fact, they can actually decipher when someone is aroused or not. Here’s how it works: Have you ever noticed that when you’re around a person that you’re truly attracted to, you get a little nervous and maybe even a little bit sweaty? Well, that sweat—you know, the kind that we specifically layer on the pre-date deodorant to avoid—contains pheromones (bodily chemicals that elicit responses in the opposite sex). Studies have shown that men and women alike are able to notice the difference between the sweat that results from a good long gym session and the sweat that we exude when aroused. These little chemical signals hiding in our sweat are just waiting to call our bluffs and reveal our true intentions.

So next time you find yourself wondering whether or not the hottie in your morning lecture is in to you, try something other than decoding the subtle hints of his or her body language. Instead, see if you can get close enough for a whiff—it could tell you all you need to know.

Image Source: publicenergy under Creative Commons