Ok, my midterm-flooded readers, here’s a quiz for you:

It’s Saturday night and there’s just been a wild party in your suite. Your roommate is passed out on your bed. Everyone has gone home except one…that cute guest you’ve been flirting with all night. Looks like things are going well. Do you:

A) Decide that it wasn’t meant to be with you two tonight and go to sleep in your roomie’s bed, leaving her undisturbed.

B) Wake up your roommate, make sure she has had enough water, switch beds, and see if consent really is sexy.

C) Screw it: leave your roommate asleep and have wild sex in her bed, leaving her to find you two looking disheveled and regretful the next morning.

Hope your answer wasn’t C.
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Admittedly, I spent a lot of yesterday’s Music Hum lecture staring at the cover of C-Spot, Columbia’s new “erotic review.” I found everything about this photo to be utterly arresting: The balancing of light and shadow, the marble-like quality of the sitter, the dignified touches (the watch, as well as the calm, knowing look on subject’s face) juxtaposed with the typical signs of human physicality and limitation: the exposed ribs, the accentuated knots of bone, the naturally odd gradations of the body’s surface. Adorned with probably the best cover shot of any Columbia publication ever, this magazine held promise.

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The executive director of the College Republicans picked up her first paper when she was 12 years old! How cute! How early for the politically-inclined to start reading printed press! I marvel! This is the same girl I saw at the first presidential debate who was nodding her head at McCain’s every word (even if it wasn’t something to nod at) and shook her head and put her hands up in the air in frustration whenever Obama had something to say. Sometimes, the rest of the room found her erratic head movements more entertaining than the debate itself (although she somehow didn’t notice it… bit like McCain, right?).

The guest policies between the different undergraduate colleges is a public diary of who’s slept with who. For the sake of anonymity let’s have swipe-access between all four colleges.

Now this one’s a bit of tear-jerker–if you’re into the age-old story about the Dad who was never there. At least by the end of it, she recognizes that he’s not the stereotypical Dad-who-was-never-there. It is often the case that Daddy is working his ass off to get you through college.

Please welcome our new sex blogger, After Hours. A variety of perspectives on sex will be explored under this alias. This time, we’re not fumbling the anonymity.

Though it’s my third year at Columbia, it’s only my first being here and being single. My high school relationship ended over the summer, and I’ve spent the start of the semester navigating those unfamiliar waters of courtship and seduction at this university. There have been missteps, of course, so I’m here to share what I’ve learned so far with all those other newly single girls, freshly heartbroken and healed of those overly serious adolescent relationships. I know there are a lot of you. So if you find yourself going home with someone for the first time since your breakup, here are things to bear in mind.

1. Don’t mention your ex (too much).
While it’s probably good to mention your general situation, e.g., “I just got out of a serious relationship,” don’t dwell on your ex. It can be a mood killer and will make it patently obvious that this is a rebound. For instance, don’t say, “Your chest hair reminds me of my ex.” Even if it’s true.

2. Turn your phone on silent.
So it’s been a few weeks since you’ve heard from your ex, and he’s the last person you’d expect to call you right now. But somehow, somehow, he can sense what’s going on, and you’re in some guy’s bed and your phone starts to vibrate loudly. (You wouldn’t believe how loud it actually is.) It’s your ex, calling you at 3:30 in the morning. You ignore the call, but it keeps on ringing. Then the texts start. “I miss you,” they say. “I’m lonely.” Maybe you’re tempted to pick up his call, to say that you miss him too, that you are lonely too, that maybe you two should just give it another shot. But take it from me: that can wait for the morning. Turn your phone on silent so your night of hedonism can go uninterrupted.
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Today in my history class, The Radical Tradition in America with Professor Eric Foner, we talked about communitarianism: a widespread response in the early 19th century to the problems with the developing market-based economy. Basically, disgusted with the selfishness perceived in an economy based on supply-and-demand rather than morals and regard for one’s fellow man, various groups created a series of communities around the nation. These communities, based on religious or secular ideals, aimed not to reform society at large but just to exist, undisturbed by what was perceived as the growing inequality around them. Of course, we are familiar with such communal societies, and they still exist in one form or another in parts of the country, notably, or at least stereotypically, in California.

Many among these 19th century experiments in living toyed with standard gender roles: a radical practice indeed, Professor Foner informs us. The most famous, perhaps, was the Oneida Community, based in upstate New York. The founder of this group, John Humphrey Noyes, was of the opinion that monogamy was unnatural and that women should be able to enjoy sex as much as men. Although the idea didn’t work out as well in practice as in theory–Noyes pre-approved all pairings and the sexual experiment eventually turned into an early form of eugenics–it made me wonder whether non-monogamy is really possible among humans. It’s not an original question; sex columnists the world over ponder it daily, but it’s a good one. What role does love play in sex and vice-versa? I’ve heard the idea of a sexual revolution thrown around among friends for some time, but how long could such an experiment reasonably last?
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Besides basking in my babacious blogvasion of (b)alliterations, the upstanding gentlemen of the spring 2008 pledge class of Beta Theta Pi ran a very successful blood drive on April 14, raking (or rather pumping out with a large bore needle) 42 pints of blood.

The drive was supported by the New York Blood Center, a local bar that donated a keg for our 21+ donors, Ben and Jerry’s, who donated an ice cream cake (cheap bastards), and 15 pairs of tickets to a Mets game courtesy of the fraternity.

Throughout the day, members of the pledge class, as well as two pledge fathers, volunteered at the drive (where the hell were you?). “Snaps” to the Beta brothers for a fantastic turnout and for maintaining Beta’s good reputation on campus. Indeed, Beta’s recent work comes as a refreshing change to the more unpleasant habits of various fraternities that will remain unnamed to protect The Commentariat from a libel case.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the concept of “virginity” lately, since the publication of the now-infamous article about a chastity club at Harvard. A good discussion of the issues the article brings up ensued in The Fray. On top of that, last night I dreamed that I met Dan Savage (he worked at Columbia?) and promised him I would write about this topic.

So…virginity. What is it? Janie Fredell, the co-head of True Love Revolution at Harvard, doesn’t think that oral sex “counts” as sex and calls it “disgusting and degrading.” Then again, she’s incredibly naive about a lot of other things, too. Must one have had heterosexual, vaginal intercourse to be considered no longer a “virgin?” By whose definition is The L Word’s Shane a virgin? Surprisingly, a large chunk of society.

I suggest we retire the concept of virginity or find a better word to describe the state. Considering the multitudinous forms that sexual contact can take and the risks we must all consider, the idea that someone who has performed one kind of sex act is less of a virgin than someone who has performed another is obsolete. Is there a point, in American culture, in putting a name on it? It’s essentially a semantic issue, but its repercussions are far more widespread. I’d like to hear readers’ perspectives on this matter.

Did anyone else see the New York Times Magazine article yesterday about Ivy League abstinence clubs? There are so, so many things wrong with it, but my main complaint is that the author, Randall Patterson, did not fairly lay out both sides of the argument. Lena Chen is not a good representative of people who have sex before marriage, yet she was one of the only counter-examples cited.

Here’s the gist of the article: student organizations endorsing abstinence until marriage (or, in the case of homosexuals, just abstinence) have sprung up on campuses across the country. The article focuses on True Love Revolution, the iteration of this phenomenon at Harvard. Headed by Janie Fredell, TLR not only promotes “chastity” (Fredell has called oral sex “disgusting and disrespectful” but doesn’t think it’s sex; I beg to differ, as does Dan Savage–check out the second question), but encourages other students to engage in the lifestyle as well. And by “encourage,” I mean they sent messages to all the women at Harvard one Valentine’s Day saying “Why Wait? Because You’re Worth It.” Only when it was pointed out to them that this suggests women who don’t wait are worth less did they send them out to men as well. People can abstain from sex all they want, as far as I’m concerned, whether for religious, personal, or circumstantial reasons. But they should not force their private practices on other people, just as I do not flaunt my vegetarianism when I am around meat eaters. It’s a personal, private choice. Both the students quoted and Patterson fail to recognize the value of choosing to have sex–and when to have sex.
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I don’t know about your spring break, but this is comparable to how mine was spent.

I think it’s patently clear that governors get more love on the side than any other politician. Mere hours after being sworn in, Paterson drops an extra-marital affair scandal bomb–giving Republicans a nice two-in-a-row opening, having come straight after Spitzer’s own prostitution scandal.

Paterson openly admitted to macking several other women, including a state employee. According to the newly-appointed governor, the whole affair business happened on both sides–a new leap in the fight for gender equality. Their marriage was in a slump, but after they both admitted to their extra-marital affairs, they sought professional counseling. Now, Paterson joys in being part of a strong and healthy marriage with his wife, Michelle Paige Paterson.

I’m not sure if it’s the best start for this new page in Paterson’s career, but it sure is nice to see a little down-to-earth honesty here and there.