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Sex: The thing that every guy would list as one of his three favorite things on the first day of class if he wanted to be completely honest. Apparently this might be true for a lot of girls, too, if we’re being honest here, or so I’ve been told. If that’s true, then girls are exponentially better at composing themselves and their desires than their male counterparts, for guys will occasionally lack that . what’s the word? Restraint?

This is because sex tends to play a factor in every guy’s thought process. Every thought that goes through a guy’s head passes through a sex filter. The result is the reason why guys can giggle at assortments of fruits or figure out how to make a Pollock painting seem even dirtier. And maybe it’s never lost, which is why you make grandpa sit in the corner of the booth when you go out to dinner, but it definitely tends to go into hiding as the years go on and you decide to be more “professional.” It will probably resurge with vigor around the time that adult diapers become not only fashionable, but also efficient for you, as you have no face to lose at that point and can be as dirty as you want.

Maybe it’s because it really is in our heads all the time, such an apparent part of our existence, that sex has such a dirty and irreverent status. There’s definitely a certain taboo around the very discussion of it that is only relinquished in the presence of close friends, coworkers, blogs and newspapers. Maybe it’s the idea of having to imagine two normal, not Oscar award winning people naked. Maybe it’s because the fact that you’re here means that a truly terrible reality happened some night about 21 years ago between people you know. Truly terrible. But it might also have something to do with the way in which sex has been introduced to us from the get go.

Sex before you’ve had it (not that I’ve had it, hi Mom and Dad) is put on a massively, oxygen levels are so thin I might puke into a cloud high pedestal. It’s epic, like climbing Mount Olympus with the Greek and Roman Myth teacher strapped to your back. The myth of sex is partially built around the totally inaccurate things that your friends tell you in middle school, but also around the fear that was established before you even really had a notion of what sex actually is.

Fear is an important part of sex. Not just the fear of having to deal with a natural Rubik’s cube, but also the general fear that comes with knowing about sex. I believe there’s a section in the Bible that deals exactly with the first notions of fear and sex. That part where Adam and Eve first take a bite out of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and then God blows his whistle, takes roll and makes them sit down to watch a video titled “STDo’s and STDon’ts.” This is a custom that has been lodged into the core of our souls, an experience that silently slinks along with us, waiting for that proper age and ill fated day when your sex ed teacher rolls that dusty, near busted TV into the classroom.

These are some of our first impressions of sex. This is what molds our interpretation of an act that is seemingly more natural than the multi syllable, chain word ingredients that are put into our food that might not really be food.

With this understanding, sex became a dangerous joyride. For every frolicking step you take in the meadow of sex is a pregnancy landmine or the possibility your ding a ling could go all chameleon on you. And then it’s no more frolicking. Or so you’re supposed to some people will operate in a rabid Wack A Mole style most of their lives regardless of the repercussions.

Sex is something that dictates part of a guy’s reaction to pretty much everything. From humor to lust, it presses buttons and adds a certain color to our thoughts and actions. It’s a confusing instinct that has been presented to us in a way that tweaks our mind to be slightly averse to the act at first or at least careful, but not without reason. Chameleons can be terrifying.

S”I just really like sex.”

That was the ditsy but brave response given by a pair of tan blonde stick skinny Ugg boot wearing North Face toting girls when their Human Sexuality professor asked the hundred or so members of her class why they all had signed up for the course.

And their male classmates clapped. But that comes as no surprise.

When my roommate Katie told me this story about her classmates at the beginning of the semester, I couldn’t help but applaud them myself for their audacity, blatantly admitting their fancy for fornication in front of all of their peers.

Well, sister, don’t we all enjoy a roll in the hay.

Sex and the human affinity for it has become less and less taboo I mean, even the most “worthless” feature in the CT is writing about it especially among members of our generation. It’s everywhere, from ads in magazines,
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on late night HBO, to my personal favorite, the television show Sex and The City. (I swear, gentlemen, if you ever want to truly understand the nature of the female sex and how to get some, watch a few episodes, and believe me, you’ll achieve a new level of your game.)

But the most wonderful thing about making love is that it’s an experience that is a culmination of what you and your partner (or partners, if you’re into that kind of thing) make of it.

For example, there are different circumstances of intimacy.

There’s romantic sex where you’re whispering sweet missionary nothings into each other’s ears; break up make up sex where you physically take out your raunchy frustrations on each other in kinky positions; nostalgic “play date” sex where your “toys” come in handy; hot and raw my long distance boyfriend came to visit me sex where anything and everything goes all night long; public sex where you were just so hot for each other you had to hide behind an arbitrary pylon; and drunk sex (the goal of everyone’s Saturday night out) where you went to a party and made a random score with that drunk guy who kept pretending like he was starting at that beer spill on your jeans. The list goes on and on just like that sentence but there are so many deliciously dastardly but oh so delightful times to enjoy each other’s company.

But that can be broken down further into two make or break it distinct categories: whether it was good or bad.

Good sex is like getting an A in chemistry (pun totally intended). You do a little research, work your ass off, maybe work in a group, get a wee bit dirty and drench in sweat over the exams. And, in the end (if you’re lucky), you get to experience the sheer “ohmigawd” exhilaration that is reaching that climax of being successful and acing the class.

Bad sex (which I associate with drunk sex) on the other hand, is like a feeble attempt at trying to learn how to drive a stick shift. You feel confident in the beginning, like it’s going to be a breeze I mean, the shaft, er, shift, is conveniently located and seemingly easy to maneuver. It’s seems to be a pretty simple process. The gears are all lubed up and ready to be put into action. However, struggling to keep up with the speed and intensity of the challenge of climbing the hilly interstate that is 460 West is definitely a frustrating downer. You were screwed from the beginning, but not in the way you wanted to be.

Feel like your love life has hit a plateau in the bedroom? I have two words for you: Kama Sutra.

I swear, you’ve got to be creative and incredibly limber to attempt a page from that book, but it’s worth the couple hours a week at McComas.

If you want a good book on the topic, I recommend Cosmo’s own take on the topic. Not only are the positions hot as hell and make your pupils dilate just from looking at what the drawings are up to, but the names are hilarious.

Check out the erotic accordion. It’s bound to please.

Beyond contorting yourself into a carnal pleasurable pretzel, just remember how much you (hopefully) love the person with which you’re discussing Middle Eastern politics over pillow talk, and I’m sure that will give you the necessarily critical jump start you needed.
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