We all know that there are people out there who make a living trading sex for money. Hell, one of them is even getting her own TV show. As human beings, many of us frown upon the act of prostitution and view it as something dirty, disgusting and just plain sad.

Sex, after all, is supposed to be about love and expressing that love with a very special someone.

Or, at least, it should be free.

But it seems that maybe this whole “trading sex for something” thing is actually innate in all of us. A at the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) revealed that many people – including those from affluent backgrounds – were willing to (and already had!) trade sex for a good or service.

The results shocked many. Why would someone who has everything – and the means to get anything they needed – reduce themselves to bartering with their loins? I am no Psychologist (even if I did minor in Psych at UofM), so I won’t even attempt to answer that. Instead, I pondered the many things I would give it up for. Read More »

It’s as vivid today as it was when it happened five years ago: Chris and I bodysurfing on an abandoned beach just outside of Acapulco and Stephanie looking at us with wonder from the shore. He and I would get slammed, and slammed again, then come up smiling from sand-filled ear to water-logged ear. Just before going in, we looked out into the vast horizon. The sky was clear blue. There were no clouds in sight. The ocean held us in its wake. Suddenly, we both gasped at the same time: a flying stingray briefly jumped out of the water just fifteen feet away.

“Did you see that?” he asked me.

“That was so cool,” I said.

Christopher Cady was my best friend’s boyfriend. He and Stephanie — like myself — had a real case of wanderlust. With no one else could I share my travel stories and feel completely understood. Only they understood why I would want to attend college in Maine, a continent and ocean away from my home in Hawaii: for the pure challenge and unpredictability.

Steph and I lived vicariously through each other, traversing the globe and telling each other tale after wondrous tale. Their travels brought them from Maine to Mexico to Taos to Central America to Boston, but culminated abruptly in Chamonix one fateful afternoon in January 2004. Chris had prepared an engagement ring before their trip. He didn’t get a chance to give it to her because, despite the storm that was brewing that late afternoon, he took an off-piste route and went missing. Read More »

There are some things you can live with and others you can live without. Seasoned travelers learn to live without, and when they do they often find hospitable people that let them live with. Travelers have the burden of deciding what to take with them and what to leave behind. They carry their lives in bags big and small. Big bags may mean better quality, but also result in a heavier burden. Small bags may mean lesser quality, but more freedom.

There are, of course, activities that require equipment — often heavy or bulky. Fishermen want to bring their own tackle and poles. Surfers want to bring their own boards. Scuba divers want to bring their own regulators. Horseback riders want to bring their own… saddles. Before you try to squeeze your heavy, bulky gear into that small bag of yours, there are just three things you need to consider: Read More »

I’m going to preface this by saying I truly wish I was making it up.

I set myself up on a blind date with a beautiful, foreign, twenty-something man last weekend after meeting him at a bar. And by meeting, I mean, chatting for two seconds while waiting for friends, leaving, then going back into the bar to pull a stunt I had abandoned since freshman year of college. I was a few drinks into my evening, and he had been amiable during our little chat before…

“I’m really sorry, I never do this–” (blatant lie… it’s just been awhile) “–but I’d really like to see you again. Could I get your number?”

Why, yes, he said, I could. High five, self! Confidence, boosted.

We ultimately decided to meet for drinks the following weekend. Why did it have to be that weekend? Oh, because of course he was MOVING TO EUROPE the following week. The night I met him had been his going away party.

Naturally, the first date I’ve been on in months would have no potential to go anywhere. But he was hot, and I thoroughly enjoyed that accent. This was a pressure-free situation, and he showed up in a suit. Screw Europe. Europe had nothing on my evening out with this guy.

Things were great… and then came a random man who approached and started chatting Date up, gesturing to me and asking, “That your girlfriend?”

Awkward. Read More »

Much like Heidi’s face and body, The Hills isn’t real.

The self-described Queen of all Media recently broke the story most of us already knew to be true when he reported that episodes of The Hills are about to shown in the UK with a pre-show disclaimer: “The following programme may contain scenes that have been created purely for entertainment purposes.”

The only news to me is that people didn’t know that The Hills wasn’t real in the first place. It’s not totally fake, but come on. How could you not know the scenes were set up?

I mean, it spun off from “Laguna Beach,” which asked its season two “stars”, Jessica and Jason, to recreate the break up that they’d had on a weeknight, since MTV only filmed the show from Thursday through Sunday.

We also had this fantastic account from Gavin the Model about the fakery and insipidness that is Lauren, Spencer, and Heidi (and the potential coolness of Brody Jenner).

Is the ‘news’ in this story that The Hills creators are being up front with the British audience while in the States we’ve had it revealed to us through the likes of Perez Hilton and other bloggers? Read More »

Sometimes I indulge in this fantasy where I drop every responsibility I have (damn you, student loans!) and run away to a foreign land.

Then my dreams are dashed when I realize that I do, in fact, have responsibilities that need to be attended to…and even if I didn’t, I don’t have thousands to throw away on a trip around the world. So, what is this 20-something to do? Well, realistically…I go on Facebook and check out the pictures my friends took back in 2005 when they went abroad.

Then I stumbled on an application that looked a bit curious…Trip Up CouchSwap!

It’s perfect! It merges reality and fantasy and wraps them up into one attainable goal for us travel-loving college kids. Poor college kids sleeping on other poor college kid’s couches…for cheap (or free)? Sounds like a typical Saturday! What more could we need?

I’ll tell you: CouchSurfing.com

Here the idea branches out even further into it’s own little social network where people around the world document and rate the travel accommodation they’ve received by traveling backpacker-style.

Now, I’m the first to admit to a little too much trust in my fellow man (or woman, whatever) and the idea of getting murdered while taking a nap on some person’s futon doesn’t really cross my mind…while you may be thinking there’s no way you’ll ever allow some random to take you in. Well, I’m officially calling you out. Read More »

If you’re lucky, you’ll be studying abroad this summer instead of taking a load off and “relaxing” (aka being unemployed) or working at Barnes and Noble (which is how my summers typically go). To avoid such occupational plagues, I decided to go to France last summer even though I didn’t really know French and I hate cheese. Nevertheless, I learned a thing or two about our neighbors overseas and being an American on old, foreign soil.

1. Blend in. The problem with studying abroad is that the experience tends to lack authenticity — You go abroad only to find yourself surrounded by more Americans than in America. And these Americans can be fairly “exotic” themselves (in my program there was a tribe of Mormons).

In many cases American students abroad make no bones about their nationality and flaunt it by traveling in large, loud groups, bumping and grinding in discotheques, speaking odd Franglish and buying bottles of champagne by the crate to drink in the streets. My best advice is to stray from the American wolf pack and try to pass as a native. It’s a fun challenge that prompted a man to feel me up on a bus in Paris because he thought I was German. Close enough. Read More »