Category: Sleeping Around

By Stacy Lace

Columnist

My dearest Jack,

All semester, journalistic chemistry has been building between us. You’ve felt it; I’ve felt it. From the moment you offered me a shout-out in your column about “Bucknell girls,” I couldn’t take my mind off of you. I feel the time has finally come for me count the ways in which I love you. Since I really only know you from afar, I’m mainly focusing on the way you have entrapped me with your column. However, I will of course reference our few non-Bucknellian almost-interactions.

1. I love that the first time I heard your name, it was during a game of “Where the Wind Blows.” Apparently, a large percentage of my sorority also loves you … and has proved it on several occasions.
2. I love that as a guy at the peak of his physical prowess, you’re unable to run up and down a basketball court for a reasonable amount of time. It helps me to think of your skills as perfect for a quickie.
3. I love that you drink almost every night and that your excessive alcohol intake causes you to frequent Taco Bell. I myself am a fan of the Crunchwrap Supreme.
4. I love that you told us all about your college bucket list. I wonder which tasks you’ve managed to accomplish in your time here. While I know that at some point you “got naked” and rocked a tank top, I wonder if you had the opportunity to shower at the Bison, take a philosophy class or spend a weekend sober.
5. I love that you accept that my day and night behavior are drastically different. I love that you accept my Thursday morning “walk to class of shame” outfit of leggings and a baseball cap. I’m partial to my navy University cap, but I’d rock one supporting any sports team you’re a fan of.
6. I love that you created an entire “I love” list about the strange things you love. I, too, love warm leather, rice and America.
7. I love the way you refer to your belly as a Franzia wine bag. Clearly, six packs don’t do it for me; it’s all about the Franzia.
8. I love that you have perfected the Super Saturday. No one at the University has been able to truly catch my eye when I’m in my afternoon drunken haze. I now know that the height at which a guy stands is really what draws me in and gets me hot. Boys should truly take note of you.
9. I love that you expect to see women in their bikinis. I understand how this objectifies my sex, but I’ll be honest: if I get to check out your Franzia belly, shouldn’t you get to check out mine?
10. I love that when I told you I would write you a love letter your response was “That’s awesome! But make sure I look like a sex god so all the girls want me.” Yes. That happened.

So long, Jack. Next year, I’ll have to find a new “sex god” to worship from afar. Any suggestions?

By Stacey Lace
Columnist

Earlier this week, I decided to take a night out and “frat real hard.” I figured the end of the semester and finals week were coming and I wanted one last midweek night of drinking at my boyfriend’s frat house.

I played a little pong and watched the frat-stars play a game of snake and a few rounds of 21 cup. No worries, though. I didn’t drink myself into oblivion or even a haze; I’m writing this after being home for only a few minutes.

My late night drinking isn’t the most interesting thing that happened tonight. I learned what the guys all think my life is really like.

I said I needed to head home to write my column and my boyfriend’s response was, “I’ll give you something to write about.” Obviously, I wasn’t surprised by this. However, I’m usually the one who wakes him up in the middle of the night to get down and dirty.

I was more surprised by the image I’ve gotten with the rest of the house. I jokingly asked one guy to write my column for me and he said he would do it from my point of view. Here’s his response:

“I woke up this morning, rolled over, saw XXX and just thought he looked so sexy. Then I went back to sleep. A few hours later I woke up and again thought he looked so sexy. Then I went to class and all I thought about was how sexy XXX is. Now I’m heading home to go be around XXX, who is so sexy.”

I find it hard to believe I have a more active sex drive than most. I feel like health class always taught us that boys think about sex something like every six seconds. I am far from that.

In reality, I woke up at 6:45 a.m. so I could shower and make it to my 8 a.m. class on time. I left my boyfriend sleeping in my bed, wishing I could join him. The main motivation to hopping back in the sack was not to have sex, but rather to sleep. It was 8 a.m. for crying out loud!

I headed off to lab and class, then spent the afternoon watching the finale of “One Tree Hill” and the evening at The Bucknellian. I know, I live the life of a porn star.

While it’s fun to have everyone think my life is this glamorous glimpse into the world of large amounts of sex, I really do normal things.  My life isn’t put on hold so I can get it in at all times of the day. If that were the case, I doubt I’d manage to be monogamous.

For those of you who want to keep on picturing me as this sex-crazed girl who gets it in anytime, anywhere, feel free to do so. I just ask that you let me know what that life is like!

By Stacey Lace

Columnist

This weekend, my boyfriend and I woke up late Saturday night to the sound of my neighbor giggling very loudly with some guy. I gave them some privacy, but the next morning, we decided we had to pay her a visit to get the dish on her hook-up.

When she opened the door, we immediately noticed the gorgeous hickey she was sporting on her neck. Ironically, it was in the same spot as my boyfriend’s; they’ve now bonded as hickey buddies.

This awkward encounter led me to start thinking about the art of the hickey. When I think of love bites, it takes me back to a fourth season episode of “7th Heaven” in which middle-school-aged Simon gives his girlfriend a hickey and is no longer allowed to see her.

Hickeys really are straight from the middle-school years, but I want to acknowledge that they still have merit six or seven years later on the college campus.

I enjoy the way that come Monday morning, they announce the details of your weekend. As in my friend’s case, even if you didn’t overhear her, anyone could guess what she’d been up to the night before. The bruise on her neck is a dead giveaway.

My favorite way to hide my indiscretions is to throw on a scarf since they’re so in right now. Unfortunately, this tactic might not work out for me as we head into warmer weather and scarves start looking European and douchey.

If I were in the wild, I would definitely be one of those “alpha females” willing to fight any other female to the death for her mate, babies, nest or whatever. With this quality, it’s important to me that I’m able to mark my territory.

Rather than getting sucked into some awkward encounter with another girl where I spend a lot of time with my face close to hers saying, “You didn’t know he had a girlfriend?” I’m able to do a little biting and sucking to get my point across.

Before sending my boy toy off for a night out without me, I like to leave a little trace behind, just to be there when I can’t be.

The hickey is also a really nice way to stifle moans, screams, panting, etc. After a neighbor overheard my sextracurricular activities overheard a few weeks ago (yes, we have too intimate of a bond), I needed to figure out a way to be a little quieter so I wasn’t always putting on an audio show.

I’ve learned you can’t make too much noise when your mouth is busy elsewhere. It’s nice to kill two or three birds with one stone–or one strong suction.

As we head into the weekend, start looking for signs of others’ play this weekend. I guarantee a neck bruise will give away all their secrets.

By Stacey Lace

Columnist

As a person in Cosmopolitan’s target demographic, it’s no surprise to anyone that every month I page through the magazine to check out the latest sex tips and tricks. After reading this month’s issue, I’ve found some things I’d like to share with you, my readers.

1. Katharine McPhee is sexy. I thought she was completely irrelevant, but now I realize she might be back on the rise. In Cosmo’s “How I Unleashed My Sexy Side,” McPhee filled me in on her go-to sex kitten look of jeans and a t-shirt. While I think that’s it’s nice for class, I have to say, I don’t get ogled when I wear that to a party. I’ll stick to my short, low-cut getups for hitting the parties and bars.

2. The Circle of 6 app is what’s up when it comes to dodging a guy. The app sends out a text at a single touch to let your friends know they need to save you from some greasy creeper. It also lets you instantly ask them for a ride or a phone call as well. I know I can’t wait to use it when I get into a sticky situation. Thanks for giving me a ride, girls!

3. Gynos have no boundaries. A gyno actually tried to set a woman up on a date with her son while “huddled over [her] vadge.”  Another ate lunch while doing an internal exam. You’re really going to get that invasive, doc?

4. Guys creep all over my new Facebook timeline. My boyfriend claims he doesn’t use FB. I believe him, but apparently other guys are looking at my “map” to see where I hang out. Good thing I have my Circle of 6 app for when they find me …

5. Costco is a hot date locale. I often frequent Costco with my parents when I’m at home, but I’m not sure it’s the sexiest place to have a date. Maybe some of Cosmo’s other “25 Fun–and Free–Things to Do With Your Guy” could work for me. Also, I don’t know that a trip to Costco has ever ended up being “free.”

6. People like to see what’s going on when they’re having sex. According to Cosmo’s “The Thing He’s Dying to See During Sex,” seeing yourself get it on “taps into [your] craving for sexual power.” The magazine recommends giving your guy a view as well as taking a peek yourself. Even going above the waist, I can only tell you one thing, directly from the mouth of a 20-year-old male student: “Boobs are cool. I want to see them.” Really, someone actually said this to me.

While it’s nice that women’s magazines are providing us with treadmill material, it seems to me that most of it is bullshit meant to make me buy next month’s issue.

By Stacey Lace

Columnist

You know how great it feels to take a hot shower right after you wake up? You get a feeling of refreshment and cleansing, giving you the strength to get through your busy day. It’s the second best way to start the day.

The absolute best is morning sex. Let’s not pretend it doesn’t feel so good. I wake up horny. I realize “morning wood” is usually thought of as exclusively male, but it’s not. My morning wood just doesn’t peek out from between the sheets. Rather than take a cold shower to cool off, I’d like to take advantage of the fact that I have a gorgeous guy in bed next to me. (No comment on my own bedhead. I like to think I wake up looking something like a naked Jackie Onassis—classy and well put-together, just a little more naked and alluring.)

It just puts me in such a great mood to get it on before I do anything else. It’s so nice to spend the morning lounging in bed, lazily enjoying each other. I love the way morning sex can be slow and sensual, unlike nighttime sex, when I typically tend to focus on getting to the main event and falling asleep while snuggled up close together. In the morning, I can be so much more cognizant of the moment and less concerned with everything else in my life.

Playing in the morning leaves plenty of time for giggling, caressing, massaging … basically all the best parts of having sex. I can spend my time indulging in every single tingle and feeling of pleasure I feel all over my body.

I love the way it can be so playful and fun, yet so serious and meaningful at the same time. There’s so much more playful touching and kissing when I do it in the morning. It’s less sex-with-a-prostitute “Risky Business” and more sweaty-hand-on-the-window “Titanic.” Honestly, nothing compares to that scene in the car when Leo and Kate just can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s so clear they just want to touch, and so clear that doing it with each other is super gratifying.

Another perk to doing it in the a.m. is my energy level. Like I said, at night, I just like to do it and head to bed. But in the morning, I’m well-rested enough to really make the encounter count.

This weekend, when you go through round one on Saturday night, don’t forget that round two on Sunday morning (and maybe round three in the afternoon) can be just as good, if not better.

Stacey Lace

Columnist

With a new boyfriend in my life, I have to voice a concern that is starting to dawn on me. There will come a day when we get too comfortable.

Even in such a new relationship, I can feel the comfort level changing. It didn’t take long before he knew about my weird (and slightly embarrassing) hangover regimen: I turn on episodes of “Star Trek” while I sleep, and I sip tomato soup through a straw.

I’m sure whenever that first visit with my parents happens, the BF will hear all about my escapades as a child–every embarrassing detail. In fact, my father prides himself on remembering my worst moments so he can quickly recall them. There is actually a home video of me circa 1993 in which my mother is dressing me after a bath and my father says something along the lines of “Wait until your future boyfriend sees your naked baby butt, Stace!”

My mother had this converted from VHS to DVD so I really don’t see a way to keep this hidden.

Beyond my sometimes embarrassing past, getting too physically comfortable with each other creeps me out just as much. This week, I had an 8 a.m. class and the BF had stayed over. I felt bad waking him since he didn’t have class until the afternoon, so I left him asleep in my bed and went off to my four hours of regularly scheduled lectures.

It’s not really a big deal, but if we’re already at the point where it’s no longer weird to sleep in each other’s bed without the other, how much further is it going to go?

As someone addicted to “How I Met Your Mother,” I can’t help but reference the show. There’s an episode in Season One (“Zip, Zip, Zip”) when Ted and Victoria get a little frisky on the couch and Marshall and Lily end up stuck in the bathroom for hours on end. Even after dating for nine years, the couple had never gone to the bathroom in front of each other.

While it’s wonderful to be so perfectly matched for someone that you never worry about how they view you, certain things just don’t need to be shared. If I could keep a guy from realizing the extensive eyebrow plucking I and other women go through just to look presentable, that would be great. Also, while I know my guy plays basketball and other sports, I’m really grossed out by sweat and just assume he never sweats. I realize this seems utterly ridiculous, and while I agree, I’ve managed to avoid seeing him post-game thus far, and I intend to keep it that way.

I’m fine with things as they are, but let’s hope they don’t progress too far into the comfort zone. Since I haven’t discovered anything too strange yet, I’ll just keep myself on a need-to-know basis.