[For many of us, sex and college go together like Uggs and snow - you can’t have one without the other. So, we brought in one of Berkeley’s finest sex columnists, Elizabeth, to start a dialogue about the topic (and act) that is very near and dear to our hearts. Every Thursday she will get your day goin’ with a little somethin’ somethin’ that’s on her mind.]

My roommate Jeanenne thinks I don’t play “the game” enough. According to her, the only game I play is “let me drop my pants for you.” Yeah, ouch. After such an accusation, I decided to go out there and see what this game was all about. I wasn’t really sure what that meant - or why I needed to play if I was doin’ pretty well without it - but boy did I play that game.

I went out and started partying at 10 AM like any normal (game) day, and vowed to be “coy,” “mysterious,” and “un-slutty” – basics in “The Game,” but pretty odd concepts in my book. What this essentially meant was me going out, getting wasted, and not talking to any guys. (Okay, so I did talk to guys, but I didn’t heavily mack on them per usual.)

And you wanna know what happened? I didn’t get hit on. Not once. Read More »

I’ve been single for well over a year and I have truly enjoyed every moment of it. Especially those no-strings-attached moments between the sheets.

For the past year I have enjoyed new experiences, new men, new positions and a whole new chapter of my life. Having recently gained the self-confidence to approach a man, I took charge of my sexuality and decided it was time to let loose a little bit and have a good time.

And that was the best decision EVER.

Recently, though, I was set up on a date. Not really looking for anything serious at the moment, I only agreed to the whole event to appease my friend. But as soon as the boy came to pick me up I was glad that I did.

He was cute. He was smart. He was funny. And he was a total gentleman.

At the end of the evening I thanked him for dinner and awkwardly dodged his attempts at a kiss by slamming my apartment door in his face. Smooth, I know.

It was not like I didn’t want to kiss him – in fact, I wanted to do a lot more…in the shower – it was just that, well, I didn’t know how. I haven’t kissed someone I actually liked in a really long time. The last 10 guys I kissed, in fact, had names I could not recall and happened in a dark corner in a gross bar. The kiss almost always led to sex, which was always lots of fun, but was always purely physical, carnal, and fueled by too much alcohol.

In other words, the only “feelings” involved in the whole exchange were the feelings that were happening below the belt. Read More »

The thought of bathing suit shopping will make most women cringe. Those harsh lights. The mirrors. The way your legs look super pale after a winter of sweat pants and Uggs. And the extra few pounds that found their way onto your ass since the last time you saw yourself wearing so little.

Who would enjoy that?

I remember the first time I went bathing suit shopping with my mom. I was young, naive and didn’t care what my pudgy body looked like in that Barbie bathing suit. But my mom was a different story. I remember hearing the now-familiar gasp/shreik combination as she pulled on suit after suit…and came out empty handed…in tears.

It is sad but true (and recently proven in a poll by Fitness Magazine): Shopping is no leisure activity. In fact, to most women, it is a nightmare for their self-esteem. Fitness magazine polled 1,001 women about their experiences with shopping and some of the more staggering statistics are below: Read More »

I did my usual perusing of NYMag.com a few days ago to find America’s Next Top Model on the homepage, with a picture of some beautiful girl and the headline that “Miss Tyra threw a curveball” by selecting the first-ever plus-sized model to win. I haven’t seen the show in many a season, because Tyra Banks continued to be Tyra Banks and you can only see a marathon so many times, but needless to say, I was intrigued.

I frowned and scrolled back up to the picture. Hm. Come to think of it, her legs don’t look like they could be snapped in two by a twelve-year-old. But plus-sized? She didn’t really look plus-sized. I was perplexed. The consistent theory was that this “oversized” model was picked from the beginning as part of Tyra’s personal agenda to make reality TV history. Or something. Making a point that you don’t have to be skinny to be pretty.

It’s a great message, it is. Except this Whitney character really isn’t not skinny. But in the context of an industry full of waifs, she instantly becomes the fat girl. It’s like picking the hottest guy in a classroom only to find that he’s less attractive on the street among other civilians; you can’t base your judgment of a person in the confines of one element. Read More »

Taking someone home from the bar when I was still in school was a fairly normal occurrence. Just like drinking in the bathroom while I got ready, or dance parties with my roommates before heading out to the bar, finding a man for some late night fun was always a given when going out.

The entire situation was bittersweet, really. I would put on my sexiest top of the day (which was ever-changing with a weekly run to Forever 21), smoke out my eyes, throw back a few cocktails and look for a guy to make out with in the corner. Once I set my sights on someone, I would work them until I had them hooked then toss em in a cab and go on home.

I made myself believe that it was all fun and games; that everyone needed a little action sometimes and I was just fulfilling that need. But the truth was the only thing being fulfilled was my self esteem. Finding a guy was not about having an orgasm (or trying….so hard….with some of the guys I managed to bring back), but about the high of knowing someone found me sexually attractive. That high, like most, would wear off soon after the boy of the evening left, without so much as passing me his number. Read More »

I have to decided that today is National I Have Tons Of Confidence Day.

Why have I decided this? Because a lot of us need a jumpstart on that old self-image, and having an artificial holiday is one of the best ways to get that started.

Besides, naming random days is fun.

So if you happen to be one of the millions of women who want to grab Confidence by the horns (or balls, whichever) but aren’t sure exactly how to start, I’ve come up with a nice little promise we can make to ourselves:

“I (insert name here),

Hereby promise to make today a day full of confidence. I will make a special effort to treat myself with extra care and take time to realize I am awesome.

I will forget about pulling on my clothes when I walk down the street. They look great on me.

I will stop thinking everyone is starting at me because I look weird for some reason. I don’t look weird, and maybe that guy was checking me out in a good way! Read More »