Last week, a brief history of racism among participants in the Washington Post Magazine Date Lab inspired some spirited defenses of racial preferences in the boudoir—and some polite rejections of the idea that one's blind date is merely acceptable "for an Asian guy." Let's take a look!:

Kim Chi Ha says it's about preference, not ethnicity. (I say it's about preference for ethnicity! But I digress):

I really think it’s a matter of preference and not a matter of ethnicity. You’re attracted to who you’re attracted to. Some people prefer blondes, others prefer brunettes. It’s not discrimination. You can’t help what features you’re attracted to. Some people are attracted to Asians, some are attracted to whites, some are attracted to them all. Just because you have a preference on the basis of someone’s ethnicity, doesn’t make you racist. It’s like having a preference for someone who’s tall versus someone who’s short. If you’re going to prefer an Asian over someone who’s white, it’s probably because of the culmination of looks that tend to occur more among Asians.

Why does everything have to come down to being about racism?

Katie says it's not natural:

you can’t help who you’re attracted to, but you can help making blanket statements about entire races of people that are probably based on stereotypes and subconscious or overt racial discrimination (you being used generally here). We have to at least be willing to consider what informs our attitudes and ideals of what makes a person “attractive.” It’s not just genetics.

Kit-Kat says the daters are doing it wrong:

If it was really just about looks, that might be one thing–we’re attracted to what we’re attracted to. If I have a thing for dark skin, or blond hair, or green eyes, then I’m likely to find myself attracted to people from ethnic or racial groups in which those features are more common.

But (1) not all people in the same ethnic group look the same. There is a *huge* amount of variation in terms of hair color, skin color, facial features, etc. among Caucasians, Hispanics, African-Americans, Indians, Asians, etc., which makes a statement like “I don’t find Indians attractive” just stupid.

And (2) not all of these daters are speaking purely in terms of looks. Some of them are pretty open about their prejudices. Plus, to not even really give someone a chance because of their race is discrimination.

. . . My real objection though, is that it’s stupid dating behavior. Sometimes a good match for you is someone you are not initially head-over-heels for, or who doesn’t match your superficial checklist. Sometimes attraction grows over time, as you get to know someone. Sometimes looks become less important as deeper connections develop. Even if it’s not racist, it’s pretty shallow and self-limiting.

chris sets some ground rules:

Litmus test for whether something you’re saying is racist or not: Would you be willing to say it face-to-face to someone of the race/ethnicity you’re talking about? If not, it’s probably racist. If so, it might still be racist and you might be a colossal asshole. . . . protip: Saying “All x people always/never do y” is not really helping you look not-racist.

upk on the effects of bedroom racism:

. . . some people might be applying the idea that racism is a combination of prejudice and power. Even if they choose not to date a person because of his race, they are not depriving him of something he is legitimately entitled to (sex with them).

Matt is like, does being straight make me sexist? (In other news, commenter Matt is straight, everyone!):

Is it sexism if, as a heterosexual man, I don’t want to date a dude??? Give me a break!

Photo via George Eastman House

As a past date lab participant, I want to vomit every time this beaten to death subject arises. Luckily none of the above mentions my particular article, but I have to chime in. As with any reporting, as I’m sure Ms. Hess knows, the interview process which took about an hour and a half over two days was boiled down to about 45 seconds worth of quotes pieced together to make an ‘interesting’ story.

Most questions are fairly run of the mill to try to get a dialogue going (what did you do before the date? How did you feel about blah blah blah), but a fair number were very specific and in hindsight an attempt to lead the interviewees toward a particular topic. I recall being told that a certain application question answer was used to set us up, and was asked if I was happy with the looks and race of the date since they thought he would be ‘my type’ . . . then the interviewer linked my response to this question to a totally separate one in which she asked me to describe in detail what my date looked like physically ‘because she hadn’t seen photos yet.’

Yes, obviously in retrospect after reading the final product I should have foreseen this, but at the same time it’s kind of ridiculous of readers to take these stories as truth and divine prejudice/racism/whatever. Maybe, City Paper, if this is newsworthy, you should create a better date lab type column? Or highlight something actually new and different for a change?

Interesting. Any eager applicants for the Washington City Paper's Race Lab?

So how many local Date Lab daters discriminate based on skin color? Plenty! A brief history:

A lot of daters set up by the Washington Post just don't want to date white people. Set up last March, professor Steven Kelts requested anyone but a white lady: He asked for "An Asian, Indian, Latino or black woman who is educated, likes to talk about ideas and wants to travel the world with me!" Another dater told Date Lab, “I tend to like girls that show signs of being foreign-born or maybe have something ethnically awesome about their looks.” Sadly, the Post matched him with a woman with a “Midwestern” appearance.

Other daters are looking to date exclusively white. In 2009, Patrick Chang stated a preference for “Tall, Caucasian women." Unfortunately, his date told the magazine this: “I tend not to find Asians attractive." When she met Chang, "With a name like Patrick I was kind of expecting an Irish guy," she admitted. "I tried to be as open-minded as possible." The pair declined to pursue a second date.

Chang's date isn't the only one to nix the entire continent: In one 2008 date, both Asian daters didn't date Asians. "I thought he was attractive and well put together, but you always have to end it with 'for an Asian guy,'" Stephanie Villaflor told the Post. "I don't usually date Asian guys." Her date, Christopher Dum, admitted: "I've only really dated white girls." Daters are generally open about their intra-racial racism: In 2006, a half-Filipino, half-Indian guy revealed a prejudice against Indian women—he finds them “a little snobby.”

Most racial preferences are aired out of disappointment—when the date who arrives is a little too white or a little too Indian. But sometimes, racial preference makes a match. Son Vang told the paper his date has "gotta be Asian, preferably Vietnamese." When Caroline T. Nguyen arrived, "I wasn't sure if my date was going to be Asian, so I was pleasantly surprised when she was," he said. Later, Vang told the paper: "At first we were trying to figure out why The Post set us up. We thought it might be the Asian thing." They hit it off.

Dater prejudice isn't limited to race, of course. After being set up with a man who uses a wheelchair, one dater reported being “really mad” at Date Lab for refraining from disclosing her date's disability prior to the meeting. “I felt like I was set up . . . I'd look like a jerk, and he'd just be ‘the handicapped guy,’" she told Date Lab. "I also didn't think it was fair to him—what if I had turned out to be a mean, tactless person?” What if.

For the record: Date Lab's gays daters can be prejudiced, too. “He's attractive, but [he has] this whole aura [of] your basic white guy,” Bob Baden said of his 2008 same-sex date. “I go for a more ethnic or foreign look.”

On Aug. 1, The Washington Post Magazine’s weekly blind date feature, Date Lab, will print what has become a once-yearly ritual: The gay date.

Every Sunday, the magazine writes up the adventures of two single Washingtonians set up by the Post; after the date, both spill the night’s details to a reporter, judging their companions on everything from body weight to tolerance for “that’s what she said” jokes. Since launching in 2006, Date Lab has run nearly 200 heterosexual encounters. But it’s only managed to set up four same-sex couples in as many years—and one dater was a repeat.

The Aug. 1 item will be a milestone for Date Lab editor Amanda McGrath—her first same-sex write-up since assuming the feature in May 2009. “I heard stories from the previous editor about how difficult it was, and I thought, ‘This won’t be a problem for me. It will be so easy,” says McGrath. Nope: Date Lab’s last gay date hit newsstands on Jan. 20, 2008. It ended with “a little bit of an air hug.”

According to a recent survey, nearly 7 percent of D.C. residents identify as gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Which you’d think would mean The Post wouldn’t go two years between gay dates. Apparently, in order to qualify as a same-sex match on Date Lab, being gay isn’t enough. Asked in an online chat in 2006 why Date Lab mostly experimented with straight romance, then-editor Sandy M. Fernandez said it was a matter of math: “We just need to get in enough applicants that it isn’t one of those soap opera dates, where if you see two gay or Latino or African American characters, they’re inevitably going to hook up.” Four years later, the feature’s applicants remain prohibitively hetero—and, according to The Post, that’s why the people who make it into print do, too.

“We honestly try with every couple we send out to make a good match, to find a pair that will hit it off,” says McGrath, 27. But “it’s really hard to find people who seem compatible when you have such a limited pool to work with.”
Obviously, in the grand scheme of injustices, the paucity of gay Date Labbers ranks pretty low. But the lack of diversity—in a feature that so clearly strives for it in other ways—does stand out. After all, plenty of heterosexual couples have been matched based on glancing similarities: “She roasts; he bakes”; “He paints, she pots”; “He’s tall; she’s tall”; “She’s tall; he’s very tall.” The paper has matched three pairs based on a shared interest in distance running (“Have these two marathoners run into romance?”; “Two runners finally cross paths. Can they go the distance?”; “Can two marathoners go the distance?”). Some daters don’t even have that much in common. Past unifying principles include “They Were Adopted And Keep Losing Debit Cards. Will They Hang Onto Each Other?” and “They Both Agree: She’s ‘Not Hideous.’” In 2008, a monkey from Rockville tried its hand at making a match. Both daters rated the date a “5.”

So with a track record like that, why not “He’s gay; he’s gay”?

The Post’s answer: Date Lab’s shallow same-sex pool. Of the 3,300 potential daters who have submitted applications since 2007, only 84 identify as gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Fifty-one are men; 33 are women. Since Date Lab keeps potential lovebirds on file for years, some once-promising applicants wind up in committed relationships or rethink their interest in romantic exhibitionism—particularly if they’re not out to all their friends and family who may happen to pick up the Post. From there, start factoring in age (daters range from their 20s to their 60s), interests, personality, and appearance, and you’ve got a pretty skimpy selection of gay and lesbian Washingtonians.

Want to help poor people while secretly scoping the charity "scene" for prime hubby material? Ask Miss A contributor Laura Swanstrom Reece has penned a guide to D.C.'s "charity circuit" for women interested in reaping some personal benefits from their selflessness. Work the circuit, ladies—feeding the homeless has never been so sexy! Or strange. A quick primer on a socialite's most social of charity options:

Interested in putting your sex appeal at work to cure dementia in the elderly? Suit up for Blondes vs. Brunettes, a "powder-puff football game" (ew) that pits the only two flavors of women against each other, for Alzheimer's. Cute boys of both hair colors serve as coaches. Bonus: The organization will also help you "stay fit."

Looking for a more exclusive charitable organization to add to your MRS resume? Try The Madison. This local civic organization, which only accepts 20-somethings, caps membership at 100 local ladies and requires members to "possess a college degree" and "have never been married." No leftovers!

If you have been divorced, resign yourself to joining Single Volunteers of DC, which requires only that members be "single . . . not married, and currently not in a committed relationship." Volunteers must also be ready to mingle. Members, paradoxically, must always be prepared to find romance with fellow volunteers—"If you are unable to enter into a dating relationship at this time, you should not volunteer with us"—at which point, presumably, they must cease their charity work with the organization. No kids allowed, but the recently separated are free to join—as long as they are prepared "to date others" and are "honest about your status" with dates. You know: "Cathy, before we deliver these hot meals to the elderly, I thought you should know that I'm still legally married."

Really want to help feed the homeless? For a charitable organization devoid of juicy deets about its bumpin' social scene, try Martha’s Table, where volunteers are always needed to help "at-risk children, youth, families and individuals in the DC area" by facilitating with "educational programs, food, clothing and enrichment opportunities." Huh.

PR flacks sure know how to sell to the ladies. Every week, I receive form e-mails from them containing the latest in lady-centered information—on everything from permanent Sex and the City nerve damage to the world's preeminent male cougar experts. Alas, I don't always have enough time to pass these insights onto you, the ladies. Today, let's play catch-up:

Lady Pitch #1: The oil spill is sexist:

Biological Recovery And InterNational Zoological (BrainzGroup.com) Founder, Edna Hazel Celadine offered their unlimited resources and assistance directly to BP CEO Tony Hayward only to be turned away with no official response. "It's men like this who cause these problems and then turn their nose up to women like us with real, proven solutions," Ms. Celadine said.

. . . Contacted for comment, BP had no response. But, Ms. Celadine was less than reserved with her comments. "It is sexism as its core, on its surface, through and through, top to bottom. The government's response has been worse than Katrina and BP has insulted the whole world with their lack of solutions and their closed little minds. Turning us away only because we are women. . . . The White House wouldn't even take our call as the President must have been busy offering jobs to politicians to bribe them from doing this or that. It's insulting that BP has used our systems without crediting us, yet, rejects our efforts to assist or license the systems for free for fear of a woman getting credit for solving the problem," Ms. Celadine stated.

"BP says they've already spent $1.25 billion in the containment and cleanup efforts. Money wasted, as we would have already capped the rogue well and cleaned up all the spilled oil for $250 million. But with BP and the Government and their sexist policies and programs, we are left with the worst man-made ecological disaster in human history; all caused by a lack of Brainz."

Record stop. Isn't is awesome that an all-female Biological Recovery and InterNational Zoological Group exists, and that its acronym is BRAINZ? And isn't it also awesome that the same group suggests that they could have already "capped the rogue well and cleaned up all the spilled oil" for a fraction of the cost, had BP only had BRAINZ? BRAAAAAINZ. Too bad this presser is accompanied by conspiracy theory as to why BRAINZ wasn't immediately patched into the Oval Office when BRAINZ called up the White House and told the operator that BRAINZ needed to speak with the president on an urgent matter. So close. BRAINZ.

—

Lady Pitch #2: Sex and the City 2! It gets the attention of ladies every time:

With Sex and the City 2 sweeping the box office, many women are undoubtedly going to theaters to indulge in the over-the-top beauty, fashion and of course: the shoes.

Carrie Bradshaw is a style icon who is known as a master of doing just about anything in stiletto heels. But in real life, wearing high heels all the time can not only slow you down, it can do some serious damage to your feet.

Shoe-related injuries can range from bunions and calluses to more extreme pain in the ball of the foot that can quickly cause permanent nerve damage. And, studies show that women will continue to wear high heels even if they cause them pain and discomfort.

Chris Luhur, founder of Scarpasa–the ultimate source for stylish AND walkable flats, sandals, boots and low and mid-heeled shoes of the highest quality–believes that shoes should never send women home early from a fun daytime stroll or night out. The unique online shoe boutique delivers a carefully curated selection of shoes that are fun, functional AND fashionable—making for an effortless transition from day to night.

Any flack that can manage to frame Sex and the City 2 as a cautionary tale in order to move a completely unrelated product is fine by us. Ladies love that.

—

Lady Pitch #3: You cannot possibly get married the way your body currently looks!:

I am writing to let you know about BodySmith’s selection to participate in People magazine’s Bride-to-Be Weight Loss Challenge, which will be featured in the magazine this fall. BodySmith is one of six gyms nationwide that has been selected to provide training for the contestants.

Glover Park resident and bride-to-be Cendrine Robinson was chosen along with five other future brides from around the country to participate in the Challenge. The women, all Fall 2010 brides, have been provided with a trainer and nutritionist for nine months (January – September 2010). Since January, Cendrine has been working out with BodySmith trainer Shane Beatty three times a week with weights and attending 2-3 classes per week.

When getting skinny for your wedding isn't good enough, try competing with other brides to get the skinniest.

—

Lady Pitch #4: Finally, a book strong enough for "cougars"—but written by a man:

“There is a tremendous shortage of older single men who are willing to date women their own age,” says author Rich Gosse [of The Cougar Imperative: Why Midlife Women Must Choose Younger Men]. “Once women hit 40, the pickings are slim. A parallel fact is that there is a shortage of younger women for younger men to date, because so many of these ladies are dating older, wealthier guys. The solution is obvious: Younger Men/Older Women.”

. . . Rich Gosse is unique among all cougar authors:

* He is the first man to publish a major cougar book. All the others are by women.

. . . Let's stop Rich right there. If there's one thing the cougar phenomenon has been missing all these years, it's an "imperative." And if there are two things the cougar phenomenon has been missing all these years, it's a male perspective.

Photo via NASA Goddard Photo, Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0

* Andrea Plaid takes on Trojan's new hip-hop centered Magnum condom campaign, "Magnum Live Large," and how it reinforces the "ye olde black male penis myth" [via Feministing]:

The campaign is an great idea, considering the epidemic-level stats on HIV and Black cis and trans women and, as my friend sexologist Bianca Laureano said, “especially in the hip-hop community where ‘I like it raw’ is still prominent.”

I am wondering, though, about the racialized sexual stereotypes undergirding and getting perpetuating by this, namely that mainstay of black sex-negative imagery, the Big Black Penis.

* Fuck you, LOST! Ahem. This is pretty interesting, however: Bitch Magazine crunches the numbers on race and death throughout the series.

* Emily Nagoski talks trials and tribulations of dating as a sex educator:

it’s hard to date when you’re a “sexpert” (hideous word). I mean, at what point in a new relationship is it appropriate to tell a guy that you’ve written a guide about fellatio? How early can you talk about orgasms and lubrication and the miracle that is cervical mucus? How early in a relationship is too early to use the word mucus? . . . It appears you can’t talk to any guy you’ve just met about sex—even about sex research—without giving him the wrong impression.

* On I Blame the Patriarchy, lessons learned from true crime documentary television:

(a) If a man targets you on Craigslist and murders you, remember that the really shocking thing to television producers will be the "photos of dead women in porn outfits."

(b) Sex work is only safe if you are working at the direction of a pimp. "So ladies, remember; if you’re gonna work the classier hotels, you’d better get yourself a pimp to “protect” you. Otherwise you might come down with a terminal case of slain masseuse."

* Sociological Images on Shape magazine: Kim Kardashian is confident with her body. Readers: Don't learn how to get confident—learn how to get a body just like Kim's!:

It’s another example of articles that pretend to be presenting an alternative to beauty standards/Hollywood ideals (be confident! Even stars have cellulite! So what?!?) but ultimately reinforce them, both by presenting images in which the featured women’s bodies differ little from those seen in the rest of the magazine and by making sure you know how to diet and exercise in order to get  your body to conform.

Photo via Thirteen of Clubs, Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0

Who says that fucking while feminist is a lost cause? On Ms. Magazine's blog, aspiring feminist journalist Alexandra Tweten (22, 5'7", green eyes) posted a dating ad on Craigslist specifically seeking feminist men. The experiment yielded 68 replies, and only two penis photos!

Tweten is looking for a guy who's more than just a feminist—he also must be liberal, between the ages of 20 and 27, and accepting of vegetarian thrift enthusiasts with a musical interest in  Sufjan Stevens. But hey, Tweten is a woman seeing a man on Craigslist! Based on the responses she received, I'm guessing that a lot of respondents read her post selectively, like so: "I'm a Midwest girl who moved out to LA recently to follow my dream of being a (feminist) journalist."

"I hope you wrote that ad from the kitchen, where you belong," wrote one guy; "Well, I’m definitely a feminist: I make sure they pay their own way, that they make the first move a fair share of the time, allow them to drive and make a fair share of the plans and decisions, even," wrote another. My favorite feminist lover has this to say: "I have been conditioned to know ladies are always right and mostly guys are just jerkoffs, i like ladies that share this opinion." Is it getting hot in here, or is it just a bunch of anonymous dudes sending photos of their penises to a feminist?

Tweten promises that she'll air some more positive responses to her ad in her next installment. In the meantime, who knew that the trolls who populate the moderated comments sections of feminist blogs are also actively seeking love in the personals section of the Los Angeles area Craigslist? You big lugs.

Photo via SarahDeer, Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0

Based on my interest in feminine hygiene, YouTube suggested that I watch this vintage Secret commercial, starring Denise Richards, and with a special appearance by Jared Leto. The ad also features one of the most confusing series of floral metaphors that I've ever encountered. And I've encountered some floral metaphors!

Here's the transcript:

They say you're gonna bloom. Heh, what are you, plant life? Please. You've got all these decisions! You've got a life. Hey: You can make it come up roses. It helps to use this. You see, Secret is pH balanced for your body's chemistry, pH balanced for your decisions. Your life. Helps keep you dry. Confident. So when you're faced with one of these [a Jared Leto], you won't pull one of these [wilting flowers]. Secret! Strong enough for him, but pH balanced just for you.

The lesson here, girls, is that floral metaphors for your life are totally pathetic, because, decisions. However, floral metaphors may be helpful in describing the potential romantic benefits of applying deodorant, and when hooking up with Jared Leto is on the line, do you really want to be arguing semantics? In conclusion: Secret.

This weekend, "America's officially ranked number 1 pick up artist" Adam Lyons is coming to Washington, D.C., where he will be "teaching the secrets of attraction to 15 dateless men who have each paid $1300." Here's my dating secret: Not being one of 15 people who would burn $1,300 on this. But what do I know? I've never had "14 simultaneous relationships with models, actresses and other beautiful women." From the press release:

A former school geek who was voted by his classmates as "least likely to get a girlfriend" when he was 15 has been officially ranked the Number 1 pick up artist (PUA) in America! Even better, Adam Lyons, a published author and international commentator on dating, is in WASHINGTON D.C this weekend.

Adam Lyons was given the award at the official World Pick Up Summit in Hollywood, California at the end of last year. The summit is held every year and brings together the world's best dating coaches and pick up artists from across the globe. Adam even beat Mystery, the formerly ranked number one PUA, whose exploits were chronicled in the 2005 New York Times bestseller The Game.

At the peak of Adam’s playboy lifestyle he was a renowned club promoter bringing 80-100 girls to clubs each week and having 14 simultaneous relationships with models, actresses and other beautiful women. Adam married his girlfriend, a strong Christian who goes to church every week, in August 2009 after deciding his lifestyle was no longer making him happy.

So, Lyons let down 13 lovely ladies and married his currently-active-Christian wife in August, "after deciding his lifestyle was no longer making him happy."  He was named the Number 1 Pick-Up Artist in America later that year . . . after denouncing the lifestyle and getting hitched? What kind of World Pick Up Summit is this? According to the Web site, last year's summit theme was "TRANSITIONING TO SEX!," and everyone was really excited about it because of its close proximity to shopping. "And guess what???" the Web site reads. "It takes place in the world's best place to meet the hottest babes!!! The Renaissance Hotel is located in the heart of Hollywood IN A MALL!!!" Is there any better place to transition to sex? If you're still interested in dropping $1,300, have at it.

You were my High School English Teacher... – w4m – 21 (Manassas)

You were my english teacher at SJHS in Manassas. I was the class of 07'. You're class was ridiculously hard, but I think its because I spent more time imagining all the amazing things I wanted to do to you when class was over than actually listening to the lesson.

You are extremely intelligent and I found it soooo sexy. Well I'm of age now, and I've been done with high school for a few years now so we should catch up a little :)

Your name was.. Mr. Pharr
<3

In this edition of Feminist Dream Phone Sexist Beatdown, Sady Doyle of Tiger Beatdown and I help all the hetero feminist ladies out there find a man! There's been some very Serious Feminist Literature written on the subject of Feminist Dating as of late, covering such important topics as establishing a feminist litmus test and learning to sarcastically accommodate man-children. What is this discussion missing, besides more hamburgers? Personal information about Sady and I, apparently!

Important Note: This Sexist Beatdown will make a lot more sense if you imagine Sady and I throwing sassy hand signals (such as "the hand") at various points throughout the dialogue, inserting the word ". . . girl" before and after each of our sentences, and exiting to the enthusiastic applause of hundreds of single women at the discussion's conclusion. Thank you.

AMANDA: Hellooo.

SADY: Why, hello! First, allow me to extend a brief litmus test to you, to determine whether we may chat.

AMANDA: OK.

SADY: My litmus test is: Rape Culture! Are you a fan?

AMANDA: Fuck, I know this one. I know this. I'm going to go with "not a fan"?

SADY: A-ha! We may proceed!

AMANDA: Great! Can I also request that we make this a speed Sexist Beatdown, because I reeeaaaally need to go eat this hamburger pretty soon?

SADY: Sure! The thing is, my own Litmus Test (which is not so much a Litmus Test as a Litmus GRE, I must admit) is not that much more subtle.

AMANDA: OK cool. So do you have an actual, like, question you will ask a potential boyfriend?

SADY: Personally, I just talk about feminism all the damn time. There are no questions! There are only answers! Answers provided by ME!

AMANDA: Right. Yes. That tends to be pretty effective in weeding out a whole lot of people.

SADY: I find myself a little unbearable. But I, like, hit on a guy and then transition into talking about Dworkin's thoughts on the Tolstoy marriage in “Intercourse” (ACTUALLY HAPPENED; TRUE STORY TIME) and if their genitalia withers at the mention of the name of Andrea D, well, that's when I find out!

AMANDA: And did it? Wither?

SADY: We are dating now! This man and I!

AMANDA: The genitalia doth not wither! I actually haven't been on the market since I became insufferably outspoken on the issue of ye olde rape culture, so I haven't been able to have that really fun experience yet.

SADY: Ha, yeah. Can I tell you it will be TERRIFYING? (Not that you are going to break up with your boyfriend. But! I am going to talk about me now, because that is my area of expertise and interest!) It is the worst part of breaking up. You are like, "but I can't break up with you! I became a FEMINIST BLOGGER! Now I'm NEVER going to get laid EVER AGAIN!”

AMANDA: I have heard, "You talk about rape all the time," from the significant other, who tolerates it. And he's not wrong. I feel like there are feminists, and then there are professional feminists, and if you are lucky enough to get within genital-withering distance of a professional feminist, then you're going to have to listen to a lot of theories about rape. But I imagine it's kind of like a lot of things? For example, I often have to silently log government acronyms in my brain that I will never understand, and it is something that I generally tolerate. But I feel like it's made out to be scarier or more annoying when the shop talk that is boring you to tears on your first date is of the Feminist persuasion.

SADY: Right. Because you have to navigate it. It actually has to be a topic of conversation, like: "Look. Look at me. This lady right here? Feminist. We can't avoid that. Let's talk about how I won't genitally mutilate you over a disagreement, as you may have heard The Feminists enjoy doing from time to time." But when you are not a Professional Feminist, when you are just Regular Feministing It Up, I feel like it is almost harder.

AMANDA: Because it's not necessarily the first thing that a potential partner knows about you?

SADY: Yeah. And because you can't be like, "but actually I know my shit on this topic, enough to get paid for knowing it from time to time." You are just a wacky lady with a cute little hobby of thinking she's a person and stuff, and people don't treat it with the same level of respect.

AMANDA: Oh word. God getting laid is so hard.

SADY: It really is! It amazes me that people ever manage it! And (FOR ME!) I didn't have the same level of confidence, Back in The Day, so I'd try to slip it in there on like the ninety-seventh date and in a very quiet way, whereas now I am like, "oh. Right. I got this."

AMANDA: The only thing I truly remember addressing in previous relationships is the pro-choice thing, which has direct and immediate application to having sex with a person.

SADY: Ha, right. I was very up-front about birth control. Still am! Still talk about it! Because, that is my own personal body we are discussing! But also I would go to ninety-seven Judd Apatow feature films with you and sort of quietly stew and not tell you what was wrong. You know what I recommend though? Is, like, looking around for dudes who do the feminism.

AMANDA: But where?

SADY: Uhhhhh... the Internet? I think a lot of feminist ladies who blog on the Internet date or have dated or are currently dating feminist or political dudes who blog on the Internet. Seriously like three separate feminist ladies I have talked to have been like, "and we met through work." Or, "and we met because of The Blogs." And I totally recommend that! Actually! Because like more or less all your junk is out there already, and that is easier than doing your Missionary Work (ZING PUN BLAM) and trying to convert anybody. So, Step 1: Start feminist blog. Step 2: Meet dude who runs feministish blog. Step 3: Scientifically determine dude is awesome. Step 4: PROFIT??? IN THE ROMANTIC ARENA????

AMANDA: I have this hilarious image of a single lady like walking into a Men Can Stop Rape meeting and being like, "well HELLO feminist allies," all sexy like. Kind of like That Guy who shows up at a pro-choice rally in a "This Is What A Feminist Looks Like" t-shirt in an attempt to get some ass.

SADY: Oh, dude. If they figured it out, it would be OVER. It would be like the weird guy who walked up to you after Women's Studies classes to say you'd Opened His Eyes, creepily, times a thousand.

AMANDA: I think I'm still at a stage in my Comfort With Internet where when I am going out with a person I met over the Internet, I'm really self-conscious about it. Like, "Oh, I'm going to get a drink with someone. YES WITH MY INTERNET FRIEND. WITH MY INTERNET FRIEND OKAY." But I'm realizing that the Internet is becoming more like Real Life now so it's not so tortured. And why not cultivate sex partners that way, I guess! I just wonder if being a feminist and dating requires more of a premeditated campaign than having some other particular hangups and dating... I mean, I think it can just happen naturally, like anything else. Not that the Internet is unnatural! Oh god! Oh GOD.

SADY: JUDGER. Yeah. I mean, I always want to meet people From The Internet if I work with them, to REMOVE that creepy "it's like a friendship, but on the Internet" feeling. Then it's just a friendship. But maybe there should be like a feminist J-Date! Oh, my God, I just became an online dating entrepremillionaire. Just by typing that sentence.

AMANDA: F-Date. F-Fuck.com. There are possibilities.

SADY: YES. GOOD. MARK THE DOMAIN NOW.

AMANDA: It is shockingly unclaimed!

SADY: NO TIME FOR CHATTING! GOT TO ESTABLISH ONLINE FEMINIST-EXPLOITING CAREER!

AMANDA: I only date other professional exploiters of feminism, personally.

SADY: And at last, we discover the true purpose of both feminism and the human desire for companionship: To Make Us Money.

AMANDA: Excellent! So now that we've solved the Feminist Dating Dilemma, I guess I can go eat a burger now?

SADY: You eat that burger, my friend. And I myself will be making some pasta and cashing in harder than you've ever seen. The next time you see me, I will be eating a burger made from a cow cloned for me personally. Because that's how feminism works.

The battle for ideological dominance in our nation’s capital’s collegiate sex columns continues. Are our local campus columnists on the forefront of radical sex writing, or are they bringing back the good old days of sticking rhinestones up our asses? Wait, what?

This week in college sex columns: In the future, we will bedazzle our butt cracks; Why your grandmother is wrong about staying single; why sex columnists should listento their LGBT peers.

TOWSON UNIVERSITY addresses the Vajazzling epidemic.

Sex Tip: In Towson University's Towerlight, writer Chiquita Young takes on vajazzling. She is skeptical. In a story entitled "Rhinestones are a vagina's best friend," Young writes, "I saw this I would laugh and stare. Plus when the jewels start falling off the sex factor is instantly erased, because then you’ll be too busy picking loose jewels out of your panties. . . . There is nothing fashionable about putting rhinestones on your vagina."

Life Lesson: Vajazzling is a slippery slope. "[A]ll I have to say is when will the madness stop? What’s next, bedazzling our butt cracks? Bedazzled bikinis?"

Progressive Meter: Oh, you know I cannot resist. 10.

—

GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY tells students to start dating already.

Sex Tip: Listen to your elders. This time around, Georgetown Hoya relationship columnist Colleen Leahey learns some relationship tips from her grandmother. Grammy, who dispenses advice while lounging in her trademark red knit suit in Palm Beach, tells a single Leahey, "Good for you, darling. There is nothing wrong with being young and single."

Life Lesson: Well, don't listen to them too much. After hearing Granny's advice to stay single, Leahey goads her classmates into pairing up. "As the weather warms and winter depression disappears, prove my Grammy wrong. Go out on a limb and ask someone out. Girls, if you are comfortable ignoring all the silly rules your mother taught you as a young girl, then ask a boy out. Just be aware they will be far less excited about seeing the pretty cherry blossoms than you," she writes. "And guys, ask your crush on a date (weekday dates are usual preferable if you are scared she’ll say no). Seriously, you have nothing to lose. For better or worse, you will have a story to tell."

Progressive Meter: Sentiment that women should take the romantic lead is swiftly followed by the claim that boys don't like flowers. So, it's kind of a wash as far as gender stereotyping is concerned.

—

THE UNIVERSITY OF MARY WASHINGTON listens to the school's LGBT set.

Sex Tips: In this edition of The Bullet's "Sexclamations" column, Erin Hill opens up her column space for her LGBT classmates to answer the question: “What is one thing you want straight people to know about your sexuality or gender expression?” Among the responses: “Sexuality is a beautiful thing, and essentially, it is about falling in love. Bisexuality just means you can fall in love with twice the people.” “Lesbians aren’t just flannel-wearing butch women. Lesbians are a community of diverse women who have a variety of interests, appearances, gender expressions and ways of loving.” "I am not a ‘label’… no matter how you describe me, it doesn’t encompass all that I am."

Life Lesson: Above all, Hill's column provides a lesson for sex columnists everywhere: Write outside your own experience.

Progressive Meter: Another 10!

Photo via Oregon State University Archives

Jaclyn Friedman is, in short, a feminist rock star. She is the executive director of  WAM!: Women, Action & the Media. She edited the incredible Yes Means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape, and continues the work of dismantling rape culture in her weekly pro-sex column. She writes as compellingly about taking off her shirt for fun as she does her college sexual assault. And she has been fucking under these conditions for nearly 20 years.

Fucking while feminist presents a peculiar set of challenges for the pro-sex single. How do you talk rape culture on a first date while still managing to get laid once in a while? How do you find the feminist guy who won't self-flagellate to the point of unfuckability? How do you avoid dying alone, basically? Friedman agreed to talk to me about establishing a feminist fucking litmus test, the art of locating non-douchey sex partners online, and the secret perks of fucking a feminist.

Sexist: So I was eating dinner with my boyfriend the other day and I started talking about my opinions on rape kits and shit, and I realized that I could probably never talk about this stuff on a first date with someone I had never met.

JF: And if you were me, you would go the a first date, and he would ask, "So, what do you do?" My online dating profile says that I’ve written a book and I’m writing another one. So they ask about it. And then literally ten minutes into a first date I’m talking about rape culture.

How does that usually work out?

JF: The way I hope it will work is that they ask these initial questions before we meet in person. So then they can go offline and collect their thoughts and then respond to me. My profile says I’m a feminist. So a lot of people who would be really scared off by me, we don’t get very far. When the whole Polanski thing was going down, I had this big argument with a guy about Polanski. First date. And last one.

JF: I would like for there to be a set of feminist litmus tests that I could reference and use to find the right guy. Right now, I feel like I'm in an endless cycle of asking myself, "Am I willing to let this slide?" I'm mostly dating guys right now, which is fairly new for me. From my early 20s to my mid-30s I dated exclusively women and trans men. I'm not romanticizing that, like "it's so much easier with women"—let me tell you, it's not. But it's a different set of questions you have to ask. I don't feel like I can go in to these dates expecting dudes to know as much about feminism or sexuality studies or rape culture, the stuff that I live my life talking about and thinking about. I feel like I’m going to die alone if I do that.

. . . Here is what’s depressing about dating while feminist. Feminism is what I do with my life, it's how I spend my days, it's my job, it's not just an opinion I have among many other opinions. If I had a hardcore litmus test, the pool of men I could date would be so tiny. And then when you weeded out men who are gay, the men I don't find attractive, the men already in monogamous, committed relationships—really, I would never get laid again. So I do feel that I have to try to be flexible out of necessity. But if I were to end up with someone—and I do want a long-term, stable relationship with someone at some point—they would have to be feminist on some basic level. They would have to be.

JF: That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? If I could turn a man feminist with the power of my vagina? It hasn’t happened yet. . . . When I was younger, I dated mostly women and trans men. Those relationships didn’t work out, obviously, they had their own issues. But the feminist thing wasn’t as much of an issue. And the only cisgender man I’ve been in a longterm relationship was a feminist when I met him. We would have feminism arguments where I was educated by him, and vice versa. And I thought, well, how lucky I am to have found a feminist guy! And he ended up being an ass . . . in somewhat unrelated ways.

JF: I'm e-mailing a guy right now I really want to meet who used the word "heteronormativity" in his profile . . . aside from that, which almost never happens, more what I look for is. . . you know the Bechdel Test for films? It states that any good film has to have two female characters who talk to each other about something other than a guy. Well, this is my test: When I look at personal ads, I look at their lists of favorite books, movies, and music, and they have to list women in all of those categories. They don't have to have a majority of women, but they have to know that women exist in the culture and be fans of some of them. It's a pretty low bar—or it should be. I used to look for guys who don’t list Fight Club in their favorites, but I've had to relax that rule, because all dudes evidently love Fight Club. I do draw the line at Ayn Rand. It's more about avoiding red flags than anything else. . . . I also don’t respond to any guy who says they’re looking for a woman who "doesn’t have drama," not because I have a lot of drama, but because I feel like that is code for women who have opinions.

JF: If you Google me, it’s pretty obvious where I stand on the sex stuff. Whenever I end up talking about my work on rape, I also am immediately communicating that I’m a pro-sex feminist. . . . I have been with some men who are surprised that I am, shall we say, less than vanilla in bed . . . A couple of guys were shocked that I like to play various games in bed, because I'm a feminist. That's always really interesting to me. I'm always like, 'Are you kidding me? The feminists I know are the craziest women in bed you can find!" Those are the moments where I feel like a one-woman feminist PR machine. I'm instructing the world one man at a time that feminists are really fun to sleep with.

JF: Oh God. There is a type of feminist guy who is so eager to fall over himself to be deferential to women and to prove his feminist bona fides and flagellate himself in front of you, to the point that it really turns me off. And it makes me sad, because politically, these are the guys that I should be sleeping with! You know what I'm talking about?

YES.

JF: Everyone knows what I'm talking about. And some of them are even really cute! I want to say to them, "If you could be a person, like a whole, complicated person, who I feel like I could crack jokes around, then I would really like you." But they're so serious about their feminism at every moment that I don’t feel like a person to them. I feel like I'm on a pedestal, almost. I know that they're not going to disagree with anything I say under any circumstances. And I don't feel like I can make a raunchy joke about sex, because they'll be horrified. . . . I hate to be critical of our allies in any way, because we need them, but there's something about that certain kind of hyperfeminist guy that makes them unappealing to date, to me. I suspect it has something to do with our internal conceptions of masculinity, which is terrible on my part.

JF: Yes. They haven't internalized their feminism, so it’s always being externalized. And it places a lot of pressure on the women they're with. There's this very self-conscious performance of feminism. And it does sometimes feel like they want a cookie. . . .  OK, I know this is such a delicate conversation to have, but I want those guys to wake up because those are the guys I want to want to sleep with!

JF: . . . What happens to me that drives me up a tree is this: The guys who respond to me and are like, 'You’re awesome. You’re kind of a hellcat." They think it's cool and kind of bad-ass that I'm outspoken and passionate about things. They think that’s really hot. They’re into it. But then when that outspokenness gets applied back to them, it’s suddenly game-over. You know the idea of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl? She's light, and quirky, and she has no inner life of her own, and just there to serve our hero’s development and erotic interests. I sort of feel that I get cast in these dudes' narratives as the Hellcat Dream Girl, there to prove how bad-ass they are because they’re dating such a bad-ass woman. They think it’s cute or sexy. But when I use that smart, outspoken bad-assery to challenge their own perspectives, it’s suddenly not sexy at all. It happens when they say something that I disagree with, and I act like a person and not someone that is playing out their particular fantasies.

It’s happened to me a million times . . . they want it as a trophy. "Hey, look at my bad-ass girl." They don’t want to deal with me as a person. It follows this pattern where it usually comes from a person who seeks me out. They try to seduce me. They think I would be an accomplishment to conquer or something. They seek me out and try to get me interested in them, and then I am, and then they flee. . . . I feel like the same thing happened with the guy I dated for two years. He liked the idea of being a guy who would be with someone like me, but ultimately it turned out that he wanted someone who wouldn’t challenge him as much, a person who was easier and quicker to sweep away. I got evidence of that when, within three months of breaking up with me, he was dating a 23 year old who lists her political views on Facebook as "moderate."

JF: Oftentimes I wonder what the people who know me professionally would think about the compromises I make when I’m dating. I wish this were a live conversation where other feminists were weighing in. I’d like to know what other women are doing. Am I making the right compromises here? Should dating require these sorts of compromises? Is there any tactic that produces better results? . . .  I feel very unsure about what the best way is to live my politics and have a sex life. I really feel in the weeds about it. But it's something I think about all the time, and I don’t feel like I have the answers.

Photo by Anh Dao Kolbe

Hooking up: We know it's all the rage among kids these days! But for us Elderly Folk who are, like, three years out of college, questions remain.

For example: Sex is great and all, but wouldn't girls be happier if they consumed several meals paid for by men who clearly only want to fuck them before they gave it up? Would girls be better off if they just stepped away from the blow job, twiddled their thumbs in their parent's house, and waited until a suitor deigned to call? Hold on a second—don't different girls want different things out of a relationship? But more importantly, will hooking up EAT THEIR BRAINS?

In this edition of Sexist Beatdown, these questions—and more!—will remain pretty much unanswered. But Sady Doyle of Tiger Beatdown and I will talk a lot about blow jobs, and other academic topics encompassed by the new field of Hook-Up Studies. Join us!

AMANDA: Well hello!

SADY: Hello Amanda. Before we go any further, I should let you know that I am not too "committed" to this chat. This chat will not buy you dinner! This chat will not visit your many relatives in Phoenix, Arizona! This chat is a "no strings attached" form of chatting.

AMANDA: Is this why I overheard you silently weeping throughout your college years?

SADY: And AT THIS VERY MOMENT, yes. Actually, I feel like the least qualified person in the world to discuss Hookup Culture! Since I have always been a visitor to it from my own home town of Serial Monogamyville.

AMANDA: And as such I assume that you have never had any boy problems!

SADY: Well, it's interesting. Did you know that if someone calls himself your boyfriend, and you are in a relationship in which there is substantially more emotional vulnerability in play, this person is LEGALLY AND MORALLY OBLIGATED never to hurt your feelings? Like, ever! To be fair, though, I think that the Simmons piece—and I have always really liked Rachel Simmons' work, so maybe I am partial – did have SOME interesting points in play. As did the amazing [Kate] Harding response!

AMANDA: And Amanda Marcotte's, too.

SADY: Oh, yeah. That did lay open some of the structural issues, in terms of what needs men and women are even allowed to HAVE, much less express. So what I think Simmons is saying is that if we have a "dating culture" where the obligation is to act like things are casual even if one or more parties would not like them to be, and if this is particularly based on the idea that the males are skittish creatures who will basically shit themselves and die if you are too affectionate or make it clear that you consider them boyfriends or whatever, well: peoples' needs don't always get served in this culture.

AMANDA: True, and I think one of the problems with most of the critiques about the "hook-up culture" is that they look longingly back on the "good old days," instead of admitting that perhaps there is a third option beyond accepting the "hook-up culture" as-is or going back to the 50s. Or the 1850s. People talk about it like it's "freedom to have sex!" or "abstinence," and forget that there are a lot of ways to have sex and to talk about having sex.

SADY: Right! Because, basically, sometimes people really DO want to just have some sex and not get too involved. And in a monogamy-and-courting-centric dating culture, THOSE peoples' needs (particularly if they be lady people) are shamed and hard to fulfill. So, yeah: I think Simmons is interesting, but (maybe inevitably) not really taking the WHOLE ENTIRE picture into account. What about shy dudes who see sex as this really intimate thing and get crushes afterward? What about them? They are missing from this analysis! They might also not be served by The Hook-Up Culture!

AMANDA: I've been constantly disappointed by the reluctance of researchers in the field of Hook-Up Studies to talk to boys about this stuff. I mean, I knew many guys in college who wanted girlfriends badly, and who were dissatisfied with casual sex.

SADY: Yeah. I mean: I have to tell you, that is one reason I am at the very least more charitable to the Simmons piece than I am to the many anti-hook-up screeds which I have delighted in tearing to pieces. Because a lot of them go so far as to MAKE UP BRAIN CHEMISTRY REASONS why a person who is a lady can never have casual sex, ever, without crying all over the binder on which she is compelled to write the dude's name 9,000 times.

AMANDA: Along with rough sketches of wedding dresses.

SADY: And plans as to what you will name your first baby. So at least Simmons is not gender-essentializing TOO much in that regard. But dudes and their vulnerabilities – and the problems with the idea that dudes want sex, nothing but sex, all the time, and that sex is therefore a good which women must trade in exchange for a dude agreeing to Totally Be Your Boyfriend OMG—always kind of get left out of these conversations, which is interesting to me.

AMANDA: Yeah, I mean, they tend to just support stereotypes. The women who are interviewed are all miserable about it, and the men are all just basking in the blow jobs. The End. There are no women who are getting what they want, and if we actually interviewed those women—I don't know—maybe we would come to a better model of sex?

SADY: Right! Exactly! I mean, I feel like a lot of OH NO THE KIDS ARE HOOKING UP is, like, just this weird hysteria over what are pretty common dating experiences.

AMANDA: Yeah, I mean, mistakes must be made. There's no use of us Elderly Folk attempting to make kids get it right on the first person they fuck.

SADY: Yeah, exactly. And, I mean: when you first meet someone, or even for a few months after meeting someone, you might be unsure as to what they want, and there's the potential that you might not know them that well (in fact, a certainty that you don't) and they therefore might turn out to be a jerk in various exciting ways. Like 97% of Jane Austen novels are about that! Except that nowadays, Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy would have been banging ever since that first party they attended together, so you might end up having sex with someone while getting to know them. OH NO!

AMANDA: Oh, no. And it's not that I don't appreciate narratives about female sexual dissatisfaction. There are definitely a lot of structural ways that the dating culture values men's pleasure and devalues women's pleasure, and so if women aren't satisfied, I understand that! The problem is when you try to just stuff all women into another structure — well, maybe girls would be happier if they didn't give it up so fast — that also devalues them

SADY: Exactly. Like, that's the thing, and where I have to depart from "hook-up culture" critiques. If you, lady, will be sad if the guy you have sex with does not want to be Your Boyfriend, well... don't have sex with that guy? Like, conversations about consent and boundaries and why it is OK to have the needs you have without apologizing are a lot better, in my experience, than telling people to have sex or not have sex in these specific ways.

AMANDA: Right. The problem isn't with this "new trend" in sex, but that our sexual culture dutifully follows trends at all. I know this is not "cool" of me to say! But perhaps kids would be better off if we didn't crumple under the weight of hysteria over kids having sex and just emphasized that they should be having sex the way they want.

SADY: Exactly! And emphasized that you might want different things at different times, and with different people... like, it's not like I have never BENEFITED from The Hook-Up Culture. Sometimes you are just like, "okay, this dude and I are never going to run skipping through a field of daisies, but he is cute, though." And other times, you are like, "well, I don't necessarily want to be putting myself out there for someone unless I think that person and I have the potential to get along real well." And sometimes you are me! And you just don't care! Because you have one million other things to do!

AMANDA: Yeah. A recent study came out that said that abstinence-only education could be effective in delaying sex among young teens. And the headlines were like, "Abstinence-only education works!" I mean ... I guess it works if you think that the point of sex education is for people to just call the whole thing off because it's too hard? But really we should be focusing on what happens when kids DO decide to have sex—what that sex is like.

SADY: Yeah. And, I mean, that's where sex leaves the level of the biological and the health-related and the ideological and enters the realm of the personal. And, like... I don't think, no matter what "dating culture" we have, we are ever going to avoid the fact that girls are going to crush out on unavailable or unattainable dudes. Or dudes on the unattainable or unavailable ladies! I mean, we have basically explained the careers of Taylor Swift AND Megan Fox right here! But getting girls to the level where actual SEX is something they know they have options regarding and the right to say "no" or "yes" to depending on what is up at the moment... that probably should be the goal, yeah?

AMANDA: Right. Not just "sex" or "not sex," when you've heard that "sex" consist of "giving a guy who refuses to be your boyfriend a million blow jobs that are never reciprocated"

SADY: Haha, yeah. Let's just get to the point of "blow jobs should always be reciprocated." MAN, I have NO IDEA why I am not working in the public schools right now! "Ladies, blow jobs are fun... TO RECEIVE, THAT IS!!!!!" And that is the story of how Sady Doyle got sued by thirty sets of parents at the same time, the end.

Earlier this week, I asked you to give me your worst Relationship-Ending Line—that phrase uttered by your now-ex that foretold the final chapter of your relationship. As it turns out, ya'll have dated people who have said some absurd shit, from the older professor who asked, “do you have anyone to read you love poetry?” to the boyfriend who admitted that he "was emotionally incapable of having a serious relationship with anyone who did not have a 'go go dancer’s body.'"

The good news is that Moregasm: Babeland's Guide to Mindblowing Sex, which you stand to win for your trouble, contains plenty of information concerning masturbatory techniques. Your top 10 Relationship-Ending Lines, after the jump:

10. Yes, but . . . Via evie:

When having a vaguely intellectual discussion about gender inequalities in politics, relationships etc:

“Yes, but do we really need equality?”

9. The couple met on JDate. Via Diana:

1. We hung out for about 45 minutes at an outside cafe. He pretty much challenged me on everything I said like disagreeing that Austin is a cool city (that's where I live), and that there wasn't anything to do in this town except artsy things (oh the horror).

2. He had invited his roommate to join us, but before the roomy showed it got a little chilly out. My date noticed some girls wearing sweaters and jackets and asked if i thought it was that cold outside. i said yeah its chilly and made some reference to smuggling raisins. He had never heard that before so i explained what it was. He thought that was disgusting. and went on and on about how gross that was. The roommate shows and the first words out of my date's mouth are, "She's kind of a bitch for the first half hour then she gets nice." Classy.

3. Then he mentioned the smuggling raisins thing to his friend and asked if my nipples looked shrivled like raisins when they got cold.

4. When I excused myself to go to the bathroom to make a desperate call to one of my friends, the guy grabs my arm and says, "I just sent you a text, I want you to know its a joke. Ok? Its a joke. Ok." I got the text while sitting on the toilet.  It said, "You're a moron."

5. And lastly, they asked me what my favorite movie was, I said Donnie Darko. He asked me if I see Rabbits and do they tell me to kill people. I asked what their favorite movies are and in stereo, they said, "Top Gun." I'm not joking.

8. It's just science. From NotSoPoetic, via Twitter:

7. I prefer men who arrive wrapped in a mystery. Via ACG:

I gave Match.com a swing for a few months, and I wouldn’t give those months back for anything, because they were the source of more unintentional comedy than I could have hoped for. The best was the guy now referred to as The Riddler. Admittedly, I was already in the process of unloading him (because he was just kind of a negligent douche, and I had other things to do with my time), and he said:

“I’m aloof and enigmatic, and that bothers you.”

6. Cute boys who are insecure in their masculinity say the darndest things. Another one from Another Jenny:

After a pleasant enough hook-up encounter with a pretty cute boy, he propped himself up on his elbow, looked me in the eye and said, “You’re not so tough now, are you?”

5. Again . . . it's science. Via Erin:

I was having a conversation with my boyfriend of 3 years. He tried to tell me that the amount of gay men in the world is on the rise because of women taking oral contraceptives. He believed women were peeing out extra estrogen which made it into the water supply and made men gay. He made it worse by telling me he believed this to be true because his father, “a Mensa member,” told him.

4. Racism + clear ignorance of chosen field = dealbreakerladies. Via Kimberly:

I was crushing on boy from another school last year during the Swine Flu scare. We were discussing current events when he uttered this line:

"I don't think the swine flu is a big deal since it can only affect Mexicans. All the cases in the United States have been of people from Mexico."

To say nothing of the fact that I'm Hispanic and have spent summers with family in Mexico, he was a biology major.

3. Lessons in how to make a bad blow job even worse, via rorawks:

In the midst of a really terrible blow-job, he pulls off just to say:

“I am going to break your heart.”

2. This is SO HIGH SCHOOL. Via memories...:

High School: Hot boy from nearby famed all-boys school asks me to a school dance. I am thrilled! Formal attire or semi-formal, I ask? Formal is the reply.

His best friend and he rent a limo, pick up their respective dates—both of us excited and looking smashing in our formal gowns. Enter dance: not another gown in the room. The other girl and I spent half of the night in the ladies room commiserating and avoiding our dates.

Same Night, on the way home: My date’s best friend has managed to convince his date to a make-out session in the limo. I refused. The Stones come on the radio, and my date starts passive-aggressively singing along:

“I can’t get no . . . Satisfaction.”

Worst date ever.

1. Somebody's a little sensitive about his fantasy fantasy. Via Lily:

(I am a huge nerd. This was in high school.)

I said, “We’re differently nerdy, you know. You really prefer fantasy and I’m more into sci fi.” He said, “That’s not true; I love Star Wars.” I said, “Well Star Wars is really just fantasy that happens to be set in space. It’s not about man’s relationship to technology, or a comment on modern society, or any of those sci fi themes. It’s a space opera. It’s the Hero Cycle, that Joseph Campbell thing. Very much a fantasy, especially in the context of George Lucas’s influences.”

And then he YELLED at me, YELLED, that I had no idea what I was talking about and obviously didn’t even understand what sci fi WAS and that he couldn’t BELIEVE I would say that and HAVE YOU EVER EVEN READ HEINLEIN!!!!!

And then I realized that if he cared more passionately about, like, R2-D2 than my feelings, in combination with the poor personal hygiene, it really wasn’t worth it.

Congratulations, Lily! I'll send you a copy of the book today.

It could come before the relationship even begins: "My favorite book is The Fountainhead."

It could come in the middle of a blow job: "Swallow my man custard."

It could preempt sexual contact entirely: "Hey, bring those roast beef curtains over here."

It could come 30 years into your marriage: "The ceremony would be held on a rooftop in New York and the Dave Matthews Band would make an appearance."

Give me the best Relationship-Ending Line you've heard, throw in a little context, and if you've got the saddest/funniest entry, I'll ship you out a copy of Babeland's new sex-positive how-to, "Moregasm: Babeland's Guide to Mind-Blowing Sex."

File your relationship-enders in the comments or e-mail them to me here (if you comment, make sure to leave a valid e-mail address where I can reach you). Extra points awarded for dramatic irony.

In this edition of Dr. Laura Schlessinger's YouTube extravaganza, the Doctor tackles a series of questions from Susan, a woman who has been forced to date men in order to ultimately become married to one of them. Susan is understandably confused on the specifics of such a modern endeavor.

Susan asks: "After years of dating, I still have a lot of questions. And since dating is essentially a prerequisite to marriage, I'd like your opinion on some of those questions. After one date, if a girl isn't interested in a serious relationship with a guy, should she go out with him again anyway? I've ben told that it's courteous to go out with a guy a second date unless the guy is a complete jerk. Until there's a definite dating relationship, should the girl pay for her share of the meal? How soon is it to considerate to disclose health issues? Information about past marriages? And other unpleasant corners of your life? And finally, how soon is it okay to kiss and hug?"

Over the next four minutes, Schlessinger informs Susan how to know when to ditch him ("With me, if he didn't open a door, take off my jacket and put it on the chair, pull out the chair and pay the tab, and open the door to the car, and pay for the gas to get me there, there wouldn't be a second date"); how to know when to tell him about your STIs ("For example, you have herpes. That's communicable!"), and how to know when to put dating on hold ("Gee, I was molested when I was five and I hate sex. This would be a good thing to clarify with your therapist before you begin dating").

Finally, Dr. Laura lets Susan know when to kiss him: "Hugs are nice at anytime. Pecks are good anytime. Really slobbery kisses and sucking on each others' face, that should wait awhile until you think each other is a keeper, I can't believe I answered that question. So until next time—I'm going to stop blushing—I'm Dr. Laura. Take care."

In the video, Dr. Laura became visibly uncomfortable discussing only one of the following topics:

a) "Gee, I was molested when I was five and I hate sex."

b) "For example, you have herpes. That's communicable!"

c) "Really slobbery kisses."

Hmm.

Yesterday, I asked Sexist readers for the worst pick-up lines you've ever heard, and boy did you deliver. Your would-be suitors have tried everything from "I'm Tony. I have a dildo this big [holds hands an improbable distance apart] that vibrates in 17 different directions, and when you're done, you can light your cigarette with it" to "You know, I worked in the Carter Administration."

At stake: A copy of Julie Klausner's book, "I Don't Care About Your Band: What I Learned from Indie Rockers, Trust Funders, Pornographers, Felons, Faux-Sensitive Hipsters, and Other Guys I've Dated." The worst of the worst, after the jump.

RUNNER-UP: From commenter groggette:

“Just so you know, I’m divorced now.”

From the guy who harrassed me for a year or so in college, starting with his wife calling me accusing me of sleeping with him after a group lunch he and I were both at (were I repeatedly mentioned my boyfriend, because I was gettingthat vibe off the guy), moving up to love poetry in emails, and peaking when he evidently got the hint from me and started sniffing my roommate’s hair during a class they had together. That line was the first time he actually admitted to being married. Oh and he also stole a mutual friends phone one time to get my new number after I got a new one. Gee I wonder why jackass.

THIRD PLACE: From commenter Gnatalby:

I was at a wine shop picking out wines for my birthday dinner, and the man working at the store was ignoring all his other customers in favor of me, even though I told him I was just looking.

Eventually he picked up a bottle and said: “This wine is like a woman . . . it needs to breathe.”

Points for accuracy!

SECOND PLACE: From commenter Jennifer:

I was seated at a bar with my friend when a friendly, older gentleman started a conversation with us. My friend ordered a vodka cranberry, which prompted our pursuer to coo, “I like that you drink cranberry juice; it’s good for your prostate.”

1) She doesn’t have a prostate.

2) Did he get that from Reader’s Digest?

FIRST PLACE: The winning slot goes to attorney Mandy, who has fielded three highly bizarre pick-up attempts from her incarcerated clients:

* A client (I’m a lawyer) wrote a letter because he had sent me a giant Scooby Doo valentine’s day card that year and I hadn’t responded. Because it was weird. And he was a client. And he was in prison. In the letter, he scolded me for not responding to the Scooby card, then gave me this mind-blower:

“we are two threads, woven in a tapestry in ways that even we cannot comprehend.”

He ended with hoping that Scooby Doo was watching over me and taking care of me. Scooby got thrown in the trash bin that day.

* This inmate (I only represent inmates) was in court and we were finishing up his case, which means my representation of him, and our relationship in that regard, were ending. He had been trying to look down my shirt the entire day (in court!) and then asked, “so, if I stab somene, will you be my lawyer?”

* Had just finished my representation and it was a good resolution for the client. He wrote me (1) calling me his “future wife,” (2) telling me how his women enver have to work, but he takes care of them so they can get their hair and nails done and always look good, (3) suggested I get a P.O. box under an assumed name so we could write freely, (4) told me how he was being kept up at night by “mischivious” thoughts about me, (5) how he liked to think about me while rubbing himself down with lotion after his shower, and (6) said that he would pay me back for how well his case turned out by being chained up as a slave in my basement.

Mandy will get a copy of Klausner's book; I'll throw in a lovely City Paper t-shirt for our the three runners-up. Thanks for playing!

The Real World D.C. premiered last night, and MTV's eight strangers picked to live in a house did not disappoint on the sex front: These people are obsessed with gettin' it on. The girls (Callie, Erika, Ashley, and Emily) and the boys (Mike, Josh, Andrew, and Ty) arrived in D.C. ready to cheat on their significant others and attempt to hide their disgust over dudes who have sex with dudes. The top 10 sexy (or more accurately, sex-ish) moments of the first episode—from anti-lesbian cartooning to how bisexuality is like snowboarding—after the jump.

10. ANDREW GIVES TIPS ON HOW TO PICK UP WOMEN.

“Seducing a woman doesn’t have to be this big ordeal. You turn to her and you say: 'You know, for a girl, you’ve got a nice face.'”

9. TWO GUYS SHOW UP IN TANK TOPS.

8. ASHLEY AND MIKE'S BORING FLIRTATION

For this pair, flirting amounts to trading religious affiliations and cavorting on the "love sac."

Ashley on Mike: "He’s a cute boy, he’s tan, he’s got green eyes, nice sense of style. He’s cute.”

Mike on Ashley: "Ashley. She has a lot of energy and, you know, she’s cute."

7. ASHLEY AND ERIKA LISTEN IN ON JOSH'S CONFESSIONAL

Erika freaks out when she hears roommate Josh admit that he's "pretty fixated on Erika right now" in the Confessional.

“I immediately think, Oh my god, he’s going to be sleeping right next to me!” she says.

Andrew, too, is immediately unnerved by Josh's forwardness. "When Josh walks into the house, he walks around like he’s cooler than everyone. And to be fair, he is, but I don’t like that he knows that he is.”

6. ANDREW TAKES PHOTO OF GIRLS' BOOBS

He tells him he's taking a photo of their faces. But he zooms in on the boobs! Za-zing!

The battle for ideological dominance in our nation’s capital’s collegiate sex columns continues. Are our local campus columnists on the forefront of radical sex writing, or are they bringing back the good old days of passive femininity, drunk-flirting double standards, and Jell-O Shot lesbianism?

This week: How to pick up guys sober; when gays and lesbians offend gays and lesbians; what to do when you pick up a guy drunk.

—

UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND:

Sex Tips: Diamondback advice columnist Esti Frischling tells UMD girls how to find dates beyond the old standby of "flirting with random guys at the bars." Her venue of choice? "Class. Next time, just sit next to that stud and smoothly pass him an empty tic-tac-toe board—guaranteed to get you at least a smile and a game, possibly even a good lay."

Life Lesson: "Just look approachable and wear stretchy pants."

Progressive Meter: I support any relationship advice column targeted at women that does not rely upon sitting around and waiting for the hottest dude ever to reveal his improbable love for you. Man, Twilight has really lowered my standards. 6.

—

AMERICAN UNIVERSITY:

Sex Tips: Since our AU Threesome of sex columnists has retired for the semester, this one's a rebuttal. Sarah Brown, Senior, has this to say about the Threesome's treatment of lesbian sex: "I can look past the inaccurate comparison of lesbian sex to Jell-O shots, the offensive implication that lesbians are all biologically the same and even the language that suggests that 'encountering a lesbian' is similar to running into a strange creature in the wild," she writes. "What I cannot seem to move past, though, is the Editor’s Note at the bottom of the column, which reads: 'In an attempt to prevent misinterpretation, we would like to acknowledge our sex columnists are of varying sexual orientations and genders.'”

Life Lesson: Newsflash: Gays and lesbians can offend gays and lesbians. Writes Brown: "While I’m glad that The Eagle has taken a non-heteronormative approach to the sex column, what this note implies is that The Eagle staff does not regard members of the LGBT community to be capable of saying things that offend and hurt persons in their community."

Progressive Meter: Good points, all. But really, how is one expected to get through a semester of sex column writing without including at least one offensive analogy to Jell-O shots? 9.

—

GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY:

Sex Tips: This time around, Hoya sex columnist Colleen Leahey invites us to learn from experience. In "How To Avoid The Pitfalls Of Drunken Flirting," Leahey tells the story of "Ian" and "Emma," two Georgetown co-eds who only talk when they're wasted. As the semester goes on, the drunken flirting gets heated: “I just think you’re so beautiful," drunk Ian tells her one night. What exactly do you want from this whole thing? drunk Emma texted back. Weeks later, the hangover sets in: Drunk Ian's girlfriend wants to fight drunk Emma!

Life Lesson: When a dude with a girlfriend goes astray, there is always a woman to blame. "Emma walked home with tear-filled eyes. She went to bed upset, feeling like some kind of worthless tease. The next day, however, her sadness turned to anger. Since when had this whole situation even become a big deal? Nothing had happened. And how was it solely her fault? Albeit, she had crossed a line, actually recognizing their flirtation, whereas Ian had merely straddled it. Yet, once she realized how wrong her actions had been, she immediately backed off. So, why did she deserve such scrutiny an entire month later?"

Progressive Meter: Double standards are a bitch. 7.

Photo via the Library of Congress

Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can
Seldom found in woman, never found in man.

We often hear that "patience is a virtue." It's the second half of the sentiment largely goes unspoken: Patience is a virtue for women. What is patience, exactly? In Helper By Design, Elyse Fitzpatrick's guide to submitting to your man in the name of God, patience is defined as the "power to endure without complaint something which is disagreeable." That's right, ladies—our gender is number one in leading lives of quiet desperation.

Throughout history, this "power to endure" has proven . . . inconvenient. While patience has its perks in dealing with events that lie entirely outside of our control—war, famine, terminal illness—it becomes a bit of a bother when applied to the realm of romantic relationships. Wait to be asked on a date. Wait to be swept off your feet. Wait for sex—if not until marriage, then at least 90 days. Wait for him to bend down on one knee. Once hitched, wait on him. Then, die.

Why are women encouraged to wait around for major life events to just happen to us? Patience, my dear. These relationship milestones have been engineered and reinforced along traditional gender lines in order to test a woman's ability to shut up and sit pretty, while encouraging men of action to make all the decisions around here. But unfortunately for the patience lobby, us women have figured a few things out over the history of time. One: Our vaginas won't implode upon completion of premarital sex. Two: Our significant others can still love us without investing two paychecks worth of bling into one of our virtuous little fingers. And three: Waiting does not work. Ever.

In light of these developments, some have chosen to trash those pesky romantic milestones altogether, refusing to see virginity and weddings as indicators of our worth as women. Others have flipped the gender script they're based upon: Ask out. Initiate sex. Propose. But some just can't let go of the passivity thing, and they're going to try their hardest to make feminine patience work in the 21st century. For them, the ideal of passive patience needn't be discarded; it's just got to be re-coded and re-sold as proactive patience. Nowadays, getting men to come to you doesn't have to be a pathetic waste of time—it can be a subversive, brave, and even—yes—feminist act of empowerment!

Coincidentally, all of these people appear to be concentrated in our nation's record labels, movie studios, publishing houses, and newspapers. Behold, pop culture's vision of a feminism of patience: No need to abandon traditional marriage—just celebrate women who are strong enough to get what they want (that ring). Don't propose to your significant other—just subversively coerce him into doing it for you. Don't bother waiting around in your ivory tower for your prince to come—just make damned sure you're on the receiving end of that fairy-tale ending. Girl power!

—

Exhibit A: The works of Taylor Swift.

[youtube:v=2CZQZohbZcQ]

Hoo boy, how are we going to reconcile this one, ladies? Taylor Swift sings songs about waiting around, being a princess, and crying for her "Romeo" to rescue her from her dad, who is so mean. Then, she makes videos for these songs where she is literally waiting in an ivory tower for her prince to come:

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone
I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess
It's a love story baby just say yes

Okay. Breathe. Despite the traditional trappings—Romeo, waiting, prince, princess—it's not hard to find a girl-power lining in this song. Swift is coaching Romeo here. She's giving him exact instructions on where to find her. She's charting out their escape route. And she's imploring him to say yes to her demands. That is, until we get to the fairy-tale ending:

Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone
I keep waiting for you but you never come
Is this in my head? I don't know what to think
He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, marry me Juliet
You'll never have to be alone
I love you and that's all I really know
I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress
It's a love story baby just say yes

Ooh! So close! Notice how Swift whiles away her time waiting, crying, wishing, hoping, praying, etc. while all Romeo has to do is . . . go over and talk to her dad. It's not exactly rocket science, folks. And yet, Swift expends a whole lot of emotional energy in order to goad the love of her life into performing the most basic of tasks, instead of just, like, dealing with her father herself, or realizing that her father is a dick and she's 18 so he can't tell her what to do anyway. But whatever—surely we can channel all of Swift's emotional energy into some sort of feminist reading of her work? Alyssa Rosenberg, noted critic of passivity in popular culture, sees Swift as feminist, in a way:

I am an enormous sucker for . . . Taylor Swift's "Love Story," which is an absurdly mature and lovely piece of pop songwriting. "I was a scarlet letter" spoken as a declaration of pride, devotion, and sexual desire is kind of amazing as a commercially successful act of feminist reclamation.

I don't see the phrase as a "feminist reclamation" so much as a mixed literary metaphor inserted into a song about waiting to get a ring on that finger. And "Love Story" is not Swift's sole offense: In "You Belong With Me," Swift passively spins elaborate fantasies that the boy of her dreams is dating her, and not his girlfriend. In the song, Swift is "Dreaming bout the day when you'll wake up and find / That what you're lookin' for has been here the whole time." Since Swift refuses to just ask him out or something, her solution is to aggressively strut her passivity in front of his face at every opportunity.

But let's be fair—while Swift's princess persona is a bit dull, Swift herself has been spending her pre-wedding days writing and recording hit crossover records. That's something, Ann Powers argues for the Los Angeles Times:

the authority these fledgling artists claim is a great sign of feminism's ripple effects. Swift might play a princess in many of her songs—in fact, the best parts of "Fearless" meditate on the princess myth and how reality subverts it—but in the studio she's her own boss, writing and producing those fairy tales.

This is the Sarah Palin theory of feminism. If she's a woman, and she does stuff, it's feminist—even if that stuff is writing songs about waiting around for boys do stuff to you. These women don't deserve our ire, but they don't deserve a cookie, either. Swift should be celebrated as a promising entertainer who writes catchy tunes I like to listen to on the radio. Feminist? Not so much.

—

Exhibit B: The cautionary tale.

[youtube:v=PITgjb9Xtr0]

If "Anna", the central character in the upcoming rom-com Leap Year, is a "princess," it is in the urban dictionary sense of the word: She is a beautiful, well-heeled control freak with a serious thirst for a solitaire diamond. Anna wants to propose to her boyfriend, but she can't, because girls can't propose to boys. So our determined young heroine finds a patience loop-hole: Propose to her boyfriend on a day that only comes around once every four years, because it is socially acceptable to do so, in Ireland, on that day alone (?). Anna hops on a plane to secure the man of her dreams on her own terms.

But ho ho, no, not so fast, independent woman. You've still got to wait—for your plane to get re-routed, your car to get blocked by a sea of cows, your ass to fall down a muddy hill, and a charming and handsome Irishman to accompany you on your hilarious misadventures. In fact, our heroine has to wait juuuuust long enough for her boyfriend to realize that he, in fact, wants to propose to her—and for the charming and handsome Irishman to begin to aggressively court her also.

Moral of the story: There's nothing more irresistible than a woman who desperately needs to get married as soon as possible . . . as long as she doesn't end up doing the proposing. That would be pathetic.

—

Exhibit C: Team Bella

Bella Swan, the heroine of the Twilight series, gets a lot of flack for being a passive lump of femininity with no defining characteristics besides her tasty blood. (Rosenberg has penned an exquisitely written anti-Bella screed). By series end, that blood will catapult her into vampire royalty, making her a—you guessed it!—princess. But in New Moon, the second installment in the Twilight series, Bella actually takes on a ton of pretty sweet hobbies.

She fixes up old motorcycles! She jumps off cliffs! She goes on joyrides with dumpy bikers! She sees movies with her friends! She uses e-mail! Okay—so our expectations for Bella's extracurricular activities are pretty low. She actually spends the better part of New Moon staring out of a window, watching the seasons change as she "endures without complaint something which is disagreeable"—bad vampire break-up. But the motorcycle thing is pretty rad, right? Too bad she only does the more interesting stuff to prove how vulnerable and suicidal she is in an attempt to coerce her ex-boyfriend to come back and save her from herself.

Bella's empowerment of desperation presents the most difficult form of patience to re-cast as a new feminism. But let's give it a try—if we can't give up the wedding shit, and we can't give up the princess shit, and we can't give up the patience shit, then we have got to find some way to justify this to ourselves. Sady Doyle, in a brilliant turn, points out that Bella is passive in the way that men in porn are: They're faceless, save for one sizable talent (tasty blood = big penis), and somehow they've got tons of perky, tanned blondes servicing them for no apparent reason. This is exactly what happens to Bella—she does nothing, she is nothing, and hot guys fight over her. (Nevermind that one other thing Bella doesn't do: Sex before marriage). No, it's not feminist. But at least women aren't alone in this peculiar set-up. Plus, it helps religious ladies get off, apparently, so proceeds go toward a good cause.

—

Exhibit D: Feminist v. Princess

Last year, the Washington Post published Rachel Beckman's "One Ring Circus," a story about the years Beckman spent waiting, wishing, agonizing and flat-out fantasizing that her boyfriend Eli would propose to her. Beckman is more attached to the romantic relationship milestones than most—she began imagining Eli's proposal after their first kiss. A few years down the road, she had formed an "Engagement Watch Team" among her coworkers to chart Eli's every move. The obsession was not all white taffeta and seating arrangements; the anticipation of the proposal haunted her. One Valentine's Day, Beckman "carefully checked every dish of food for a diamond ring so that I didn't accidentally swallow it and become one of those proposals-gone-bad stories in the bridal magazines." When Beckman, then in her early 2o's, realized Eli wasn't popping the question that moment, she wept.

Unsurprisingly, the diamond fever left Beckman with some personal conflicts:

I felt like engagement was the one off-limits topic. I didn't want to pressure him or spoil the big, elaborate surprise proposal (that he hadn't even started planning). I was caught in a Catch-22. I could be hands-off and leave it all to him (feminist Rachel says no), or I could be hands-on and get what I want (princess Rachel says no).

I don't doubt that Beckman has been largely influenced by the feminist movement. But the distinction between the "princess" who waits patiently for her boyfriend to propose to her and the "feminist" who actively coerces her boyfriend into proposing sets up a bit of a false dichotomy. The main difference appears to be that the princess waits around for her prince to ride up on his horse, while the feminist pressures her boyfriend to man up and play his assigned role.

A desire to get married is not necessarily an anti-feminist one. The problem is when the decision to wed is left exclusively to the man, leaving the woman to waste years of emotional energy as she waits patiently for him to do so.  The whole point of the milestone is to set up a relationship based on feminine patience and masculine decision-making. Beckman's "feminist" solution is to micromanage the process—to talk openly about her desire to get married, open up negotiations as to the time frame, and instruct Eli on the perfect ring. In doing so, Beckman converts her private agony into proactive patience, but she can't go so far as to pop the question herself—in order to fulfill her lifelong engagement fantasy, she must submit to Eli's better judgment.

Beckman may see this subversive engagement planning as a feminist development, but really, women have always coped with a lack of institutional power by working behind the scenes. I appreciate Beckman's essay, because it's good to remember that achieving patience takes more than switching on your feminine tractor beams and waiting for your prince to come. Getting what you want while seemingly doing nothing is work. Even in 1964, Burt Bacharach knew that just waiting around and being a woman wasn't going to cut it. You have to strut your patience. You have to work your waiting.

[youtube:v=ycbgHM1mI0k]

"Wishin' and Hopin,'" a ditty made popular by Dusty Springfield, instructed women to stop their traditional wishin', hopin', thinkin', prayin', plannin', and dreamin', and instead, get off their asses and do stuff: like "the things he likes to do" and wearing "your hair just for him." As the song demonstrates, aggressively pursuing what you want isn't always an act of female empowerment.

Photo via George Eastman House

Sometimes, Craigslist Missed Connections have the power to renew your faith in love-at-first sight. Other times, they will destroy your faith in humanity. This is one of those times.

I don't know what possibly could have happened this week to inspire some of the saddest missed connections that I have ever seen, but it's not my place to speculate—Internet stalking works in mysterious ways.

First up: can two "sell outs" make it work?

BRUCE CONCERT AT VERIZON (Verizon Center)

You: Older Gentleman Jeans and Jacket in Section 429 at Springsteen concert Monday.

Me: 5 feet aisle seat. Dark skin brown hair Jeans, black T-shirt. I danced and sang along all night at show.

I questioned if show would be a sell out. You suggested it was a sell out. Sensed a connection.
Would love to chat over coffee.

She wore a vest. He wore a lip sweater:

great mustache, no shirt – w4m – 24 (Columbia Heights)

You were riding your bike without a shirt. You have an amazing mustache and a sly smile. I was wearing a vest sitting at the wonderland. I hope we can connect.

He was having lunch at a Hooters in Manassas. OF COURSE he's checking this to see if any of the girls at Hooters secretly wanted to fuck him!

lunch at Hooters – w4m – 27 (Manassas, VA)

hoping there's a chance you check this . . . saw you having lunch with 2 other men at Hooters in Manassas today. Started to slip you my number, but missed the opportunity. The guy I was with is not my boyfriend. It would be nice to see you again

So, you're cheating on your wife, and you're cheap. Perfect.

ashley madison profile – m4w – 37 (Reston)

You winked at me on Ashley Madison web site , ID- "I_might_surprise_you". I have a free account so I cannot reply.

And you met your astrologer at a strip club. In 1985. You know what? I think we've finally found a match that makes sense.

Brian Sullivan- ASTROLOGER- I am looking for him (Washington, DC) (CAMELOT – 1823 M ST — (Washington, DC ))

I am looking for — Brain Sullivan —— Professional ASTROLOGER — ( & English Teacher)

He lives in Washington, DC

He is 40+ — slim white male — with pale skin — & white hair.

He is a — PROFESSIONAL ASTROLOGER

( & he also teaches English on the side)

I have lost contact with him and wish to see him.

He is my astrologer. i have known him since 1985

he knows me well

I wish to find him so I can set up a NEW astrology reading from him .

Photo by ::PinkDiamonds::, Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0

"Last week, I was over at a friend's house, and he showed me a picture on Facebook of a girl I used to" date, Thomas said.

Woah! Isn't it interesting how expertly Shapira snipped that quote juuuust before Thomas was about to describe, in his own words, what he "used to" do with that girl on Facebook?

Sure, Thomas didn't necessarily employ an R-rated term for his former fling. He could have thrown out a euphemism for dating that didn't really translate in copy: "a girl I used to hang out with"; "a girl I used to see"; "a girl I used to know." Maybe Shapira was simply correcting for Thomas' loquaciousness: "a girl I used to kinda, like, take out or whatever, sometimes." Perhaps Shapira and Thomas are so close, they just finish one another's sentences!

But when Shapira steps in to insert a Post-approved relationship term in an otherwise full quote, it sure makes it look like Thomas had filled in the blank with "a girl I used to bone," "a girl I used to bang," or "a girl I used to fuck." If Thomas' terminology hadn't raised a red flag, why bother butchering the quote right in the middle of the verb?

I have an e-mail out to Shapira asking whether Thomas' description of his relationship was too hot for the Post's standards of decency. I'm trying to hunt down Thomas, but dude's not on Facebook, so if you're one of those friends who acts as his personal Internet secretary, let him know I'd like a word. Preferably a naughty one!

Criticisms of D.C.-area student sex columns, however, rarely take the form of the right-wing, anti-sex diatribe. At local colleges and universities, sex columnists are more likely to catch heat for furthering sex-negative sentiments, antiquated gender roles, or sloppy writing.

Last month, the American University Eagle's anonymous sex column was criticized for trivializing rape, ignoring LGBT students, and discouraging women from pursuing sex. Also this month, Georgetown University student journalist Juliana Brint accused her campus' sex columns of being "backwards, anti-feminist screeds" based on "outdated, belittling generalizations about the female psyche." How progressive are our local student sex writers?

—

Student Paper: The G.W. Hatchet

Columnists: Mr. Darcy, an anonymous heterosexual male; Layla, an anonymous heterosexual female.

Areas of Coverage: In Darcy's inaugural column, the male sex columnist posed an Austenian dilemma: Shall he choose the nice girl who gives a satisfying blow job, or the freaky one into semi-public window sex? Answer: Looks like he's sleeping (with both of them) on it for a little while longer. In Layla's latest go-around, she describes her unorthodox relationship with a "best friend" from out-of-town: They do it all the time, but they're not dating or anything, and it's awesome!

Progressive Score: 6. Both Darcy and Layla describe their personal experiences with casual sex with multiple partners—and they do so with respect for themselves and for everyone else involved. In college, that can be difficult—it's hardly edgy, but I'll take it. The problem with first-person sex columns from two heteros, though, is that the LGBT experience is completely shut out of the paper.

—

Student paper: The American University Eagle.

Sex columnists: Three anonymous writers—one female, two male, sexual orientation undisclosed. Their porny bylines: Amber Sparkles, Buster Darkhole, and Maxwell Hillcrest.

Areas of Coverage: The trio got off to a controversial start last month when they posited this hypothetic sexual experience—"It’s three in the morning. You have it inside you right now. It kind of hurts. You’ve had one too many cups of jungle juice"—as a normal AU hookup. In their follow-up column, Sparkles, Darkhole, and Hillcrest winked at the controversy as they moved on to another taboo campus topic. "It’s 3 a.m. and he has it in you right now. It hurts," the column read. "You are two sober, consenting adults who have just embarked on the journey of anal sex."

Progressive Score: 7. While the first column from the threesome was extremely ill-advised, this servicey anal sex primer—don't use silicone lube with silicone toys!—imparted some helpful and open-minded advice for dorm-dwellers embarking on an anal excursion for the first time. It also made a stab at inclusiveness: "Gay, straight, bisexual—it doesn’t matter," the column reads. "Anyone can enjoy the feeling that comes from anal stimulation, no matter their gender or sexual orientation."

But while the column worked to dispel the "taboo" against straight men enjoying ass play, it failed to tackle the pressure many straight women feel to do anal. It also only addressed the anal pleasure derived from massaging the prostate. Not everybody has a prostate!

On the other hand, the threesome managed to stir up some conservative ire for the column—always a good sign. "I am appalled at the content of the Eagle’s new column," wrote one commenter. "I find this particular article vulgar."

—

Student Paper: The Georgetown University Hoya.

Sex Columnists: Colleen Leahey

Areas of Coverage: According to Brint, who writes for the Georgetown Voice, Leahey's "backwards, anti-feminist screeds" come from a long line of conservative Georgetown sex columnists (Julia Allison was the first). In Leheay's first column, she declared that "The quest for 'Prince Charming' consumes the lives of most 20-something females." The odd advice in her second column wasn't so much gender-specific as it was stalker-specific: "After shouting their name, you wait for them to come running into your arms. Instead they ask, 'Why are you following me?'"

Progressive Score: 4. Leahey may very well have her hands tied at this particularly conservative student rag, which is lucky to have a sex column at all. "“[V]ulgarity is discouraged through all sections in The Hoya,” Hoya Managing Editor Marissa Amendolia explained in an e-mail to Brint. “[W]hen it comes to editing for style, vulgarity—and, depending on the situation, this may include sexual explicitness—is subject to editing as long as the editor maintains the author’s viewpoint.” That being said, Leahey doesn't have to get vulgar to become a bit more open-minded. It would behoove her to direct her columns to all members of the campus community, not just heterosexual females she deems "desperate."

Nevertheless, I give Leahey and the Hoya major points for refusing to hide their sex coverage under a pseudonym (even a pseudonym as inspired as "Buster Darkhole"). The Hoya's sex talk may be low on the sex, but at least they own it. If there's nothing wrong with talking about casual sex and anal experimentation, why keep your identity under the covers?

Note: I couldn't find any current sex columns at the UMD Diamondback, the Howard University Hilltop, or, uh, Catholic University. If you know of any other local student sex writers, let me know!

"Books": it's the most dangerous section of a young lover's Facebook profile. A bad favorite novel—whether revealed by accident, or deliberately placed on one's bedside table as an act of intellectual seduction—has the power to put a damper on a once-exciting courtship. I've never stopped seeing someone based on their favorite book, but looking back, there were signs. Here, I'll note that heated literary disagreements can actually help to build a healthy and intellectually stimulating relationship. Or, it can devolve into resentment, condescension, and spirited book-burning. Here are my deal-breaker books:

The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Maciej Cegłowski hit the nail on the head when he described Milan Kundera as "the Dave Matthews of Slavic letters." He goes on: "Kundera has a sterile, cleanroom writing style meant to suggest that he is a surgeon expertly dissecting the human condition before your eyes, but if you look a little more closely, you see he's just performing an autopsy on a mannequin. Or more accurately, a RealDoll." Personally, I'm wary of any book which glamorizes cheating as some sort of tortured philosophical exercise. Just keep your pants on, dude, it's not that hard.

The Catcher in the Rye (see also: Lord of the Flies, To Kill A Mockingbird). I'm all for celebrating the classics, but if your favorite book still contains highlights from your 7th grade humanities class, maybe it's time to mix it up a bit.

Atlas Shrugged. I dated a guy in college who kept his collection of Ayn Rand novels hidden underneath his bed, next to his Magic: The Gathering cards. When you discover that your significant other has a secret Rand fetish—and if you're dating high-school or college-aged males, this is a significant possibility—you may be occupied with concern that their idea of good literature is a thousand-page glorification of capitalism. But don't forget about the sex!

Rand's Ideal Woman, Dagny Taggart, is a self-made railroad baron and defender of industry. Taggart defers to no one, except for basically every dude she has sex with. In sex, Taggart submits fully to Man, an act which symbolizes surrender to her sex partner's superior industrial capabilities, or whatever. Many critics have described Rand's sex scenes as "rape," but in Feminist Interpretations of Ayn Rand, Wendy McElroy explains that it's not rape, because Rand makes Taggart secretly want men to take her by force. "With our godlike perspective we can eavesdrop on Dagny's psychology as she silently pleads with him . . . Our knowledge of Dagny's unspoken desire for sex with Reardon converts what seems like an act of rape into one of passionate and mutual consent."

So, not only does the Ideal Woman submit sexually to the Ideal Man, the Ideal Man has the crazy ability to discern a woman's secret rape fantasy without asking! Did I mention it's 1,000 pages long?

Photo by Fly Navy

A recent query on the anonymous relationship advice messageboard on LipstickAlley:

How soon after Man is released from Prison do you date him?

Let's say you meet a man tall, attractive, no kids, and then he drops the bomb I have been in jail for the last ten years and just got out 8 months ago. What do you do? Would you immediately stop talking? Would you be curious about if he had sex with another man? Is him being released so recently an issue?

Would anyone date a man just freed from prison?

But after receiving a few dozen variations on "never"—such as "Only if the Father, Son, Holy Spirit and a host of angelic beings repeatedly told me to do so in a 3 dimensional vision on a Bose sound system"—the questioner assumes a new problem. It isn't the possibly-violent-criminal thing or the curiosity-over-the-gay-sex-thing—it's the "chemistry" thing:

I actually was going to tell him to stop calling me because even though he's a nice guy and he seems to like me a lot, I don't feel the chemistry. Then before i even said that he told me about he just got out. He just told me and I didn't say anything, he just kept talking. When I met him, I just thought, wow, a nice, older, quiet man with no kids? (i'm in my 20s, he's in his 30s)

now if i tell him to stop calling, he will think it's because he just told me that he got out of prison.

While LipstickAlley was quick with a response to the "Should I date a former inmate?" query (answer: hell to the no), the more difficult question—"How do I stop dating a former inmate?"—was met with silence. I don't know—perhaps this group of anonymous Internet commenters has more experience letting reformed criminals down easy?

Photo by decade_null

The two exchanges are surprisingly similar—both target those with low self-esteem to exploit them for personal gain. Here's how it works: The Pick-Up Artist devotee feels worthless. He is informed that self-worth may be secured by having sex with women agreed to be attractive by the Pick-Up Artist community. He is told that in order to have sex with these women, he must not "be himself"—remember, he is worthless. Instead, he must pay exorbitant amounts of money to learn the correct "tactics" not to gain self-worth—but to convince the women that it is they who are truly worthless. Only the Pick-Up Artist "master" wins here—he gets the cash regardless of the outcome of the sexual conquest, while feeling superior to his male devotees (who are, in turn, superior to all women).

"How to Date Out of Your League"—a very elementary-level, college age version of game written by COED Magazine's Michael Dance—makes this dynamic perfectly clear.

Dance writes:

The holy grail of dating is to actually find a girl who’s hot but is still willing to go out with you.  And as you’ve already figured out, that’s really hard.  But even if you’re not as attractive or as suave as that friend who has so much sex you want to punch him, even if you “have no game,” there are a few ways to tip the scales in your favor.  These aren’t magic bullets.  They’re practical, actionable things that you can do to help you snag that gorgeous girl who it turns out has low enough self-esteem to actually go for you.

And so it begins. It is not enough for the Pick-Up Artist devotee to date someone who is his equal; in order to receive respect in the community, he must date someone who is somehow "better" than him ("hotter"). At the same time, the Pick-Up Artist  operates on the assumption that women who don't want to have sex with him—even these "better," hotter women—are conceited bitches. The Pick-Up Artist must find a woman he deems superior who, in turn, deems herself inferior. In order for the scam to work, both parties must believe that they are less-than the person they're sleeping with. Only the Pick-Up Artist master—the guy selling the books—is superior.

1. Actually Ask Girls Out on Dates Look, you can’t date out of your league if you don’t have the balls to actually ask a girl out on a date.  Sure, you might be able to get lucky at a party with a drunk girl, but as you’ve already experienced, it’s harder to do that consistently than you fantasized about in high school.  So many guys whine inwardly about not being a chick-magnet and forget it’s because they don’t actually put themselves out there and talk to any girls.

. . . The key is to be perceptive.  The problem for most guys who are unlucky with girls is not that they’re bad looking, it’s that they’re oblivious.  Girls make it very obvious when they don’t like what you’re doing (and for the record, pick-up lines and transparent attempts to impress her never work).  If she’s interested, she won’t be looking around the room for her girlfriends to save her.  She won’t be responding to your questions in polite two-word answers.  In fact, she won’t have to respond to too many of your questions, because she’ll be asking you questions, too.

Do you see how he talks down to you? You have no balls. You're so pathetic that you fantasize about having sex with drunk girls. You're oblivious. You think that "pick-up lines and transparent attempts to impress her" will actually work? Of course not—you need much, much more help than one lousy pick-up line can provide (buy the book). The actual advice—talk to girls—is so obvious that only a man with the lowest self-esteem could regard it as a revelation.

2. Don’t Talk About Yourself.  At All.

“When I was in seventh grade, I was really into Magic: The Gathering.”

“Yeah, I love movies!  I even went to the midnight opening of Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.  Sat in the front row.”

“While I was masturbating this morning I was thinking about my mom…”

. . . But the “don’t talk about yourself” rule extends beyond just the obvious.  I really mean don’t talk about yourself at all.  You know why?  You’re not interesting.  You work in the scheduling department of a non-profit?  You taught yourself web design?  Your football team made sectionals in high school?  Your professor is just super, super lame?  Don’tcaredon’tcaredon’tcaredon’tcare.

Depending on exactly how “out of your league” the girl is, she’s probably not interesting either.  Unless she’s Mary-Louise Parker’s illegitimate daughter who got the hot genes from her mom and currently works as a spy for the CIA, chances are she’s just some random bitchy princess you want to sleep with, in which case — pat yourself on the back — she’s even less interesting than you.  If you ever want her to go down on you, just shut up and listen.

You're worthless. She's worthless. You're all worthless, except for me. Only I deserve to be heard; only I am worth listening to. I am a worthwhile person; you are a sad, pathetic loser who might be allowed to receive a blowjob from another sad, pathetic loser if you listen to what I have to say.

3. But At the Same Time, Don’t Be a Pussy.

There’s shutting up and listening to her stories, and then there’s letting her whine to you about this guy who’s mean to her and she’s so glad she has a really, really great friend like you.  If you’ve gotten to the latter point, you’re beyond saving.

It’s not a secret anymore that in general, girls are attracted to guys who don’t treat them well.  . . . But there’s two things wrong with that rule.  First, you can only really pull it off if you’re good-looking.  If you’re a hot jerk, you’re a badass; if you’re an average-looking jerk, you’re a tool.  It’s not fair, but such is life.

The other problem is that most of you who need to read articles like this one are too nice.  You literally cannot be a jerk to a girl.  Your parents taught you manners, thank you very much, and there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that.

There’s not.  The solution?  Just be assertive. That means, simply, that you should come across like a man who knows what he wants.  When you ask her out, give her a specific time, place, and activity.  Never say “I don’t care, what do you want to do?”  If she asks your opinion on something, give it to her.  Etc.

If she does specifically ask you about yourself, you’re permitted to tell her that you have a steady job or are well on your way down a lucrative career path.  No, she’s not seriously considering you as a mate yet, but if you think there’s no difference between “I’m studying to be a lawyer” and “I’m an English major,” you’re wrong.

"Nice." Nice is the classic marker of a girl who's not interested, and when administered from a Pick-Up Artist master to a Pick-Up Artist devotee, it's a very effective neg.  As is clear from the title of this tactic, being "nice" really means being a "pussy." Let's go ahead and sub that in to make sure we're not softening the blow: "most of you who need to read articles like this one are pussies." Sure, there's nothing wrong with being a pussy. Just be sure that you act like a pussy who knows what he wants (which is pussy). Thankfully, the Pick-Up Artist master is here to step in and tell you how to be the right kind of pussy: Just lie. Hey, it's what the master does best.

"Seven or Better" is a new online dating site for women and men interested in meeting men with penises that are confirmed to be seven inches or longer (the site doesn't clarify, but I'm assuming we're talking erect). "Hello ladies," the Web site begins. "Wouldn't it be nice to know upfront if a man has what it takes to satisfy you sexually?"

No. But go on:

For men interested in women, it is quite easy to see if the woman's breast size is to his liking or not, or even the shape and size of her derriere. The same goes for women interested in men. There are many women that feel the size of a man's penis is very important to them. Unfortunately, because of how society is, it is very inappropriate to ask a man immediately how big his penis is or even if he is uncircumcised or not. A properly behaved woman that is respectful would never ask such a question. Instead, a woman will date a man perhaps for a few days, weeks or maybe months. After all this time the woman will decide she likes the man and that it is finally time to take things to a new level/the bedroom. It is at this time that many women are disappointed with what they find and now they are in an awkward situation.

Isn't society just terrible? A "properly behaved woman" who is only interested in men with huge penises may have to wait months—months!—before figuring out that the man that she has spent months falling in love with has been hiding a dick that's slightly too small to deserve that love. Now, with Seven or Better, that woman can know from the first date the exact dimensions of that penis she doesn't want to see yet.

This is only fair, seeing as men know immediately and exactly the size of a woman's breasts—a measurement that can never be hidden, covered up, padded, or surgically augmented. Now, women, too, can have their potential sex partners flaunt their size before they even have to meet for coffee. But remember guys, this is a dating site for women, not a porn site for exhibitionist dudes. Men are encouraged to reveal their penis size in a completely friendly, non-pervy context, alongside their other attributes, like how smart they are or whatever.

But there's more. In accordance (I'm assuming) with anti-discrimination policies, those who become members of Seven or Better include: Men with penises 7" or longer looking for women, women looking for men with penises 7" or longer, men with penises 7" or longer looking for men with penises 7" or longer, or women looking for women. Yes, Seven or Better welcomes all, except for men with penises shorter—excuse me, worse—than 7" long.

So—are these women-looking-for-women looking for women who are looking for men with penises 7" or longer? Or are they simply signaling an interest in 7" or longer penis-shaped sex toys? I didn't finish the registration process—perhaps I was afraid of what I would find—so I don't know if any lesbians have signed up here yet. If anyone out there is an, ahem, member, I'd be interested in learning what might intrigue lesbians in this big dick business.

Photo by Maui in Vermont

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By now, we're all pretty accustomed to the exploitation of Rihanna's injuries to feed public curiosity surrounding the high-profile attack (and yes, blogger obsession is guilty, too). Is that exploitation excusable if it feeds our hunger for voyeurism in the name of raising awareness? Of course, DoSomething.org can draw from whatever public record it chooses in its campaigns. But by elevating Rihanna's real-life problem into a Hollywood-size drama, don't we risk making it almost less real? The reenactment is disturbing, but it's also dramatic, sensational, and almost too watchable.

[via Broadsheet].

Douchebags have been getting laid for centuries; now, their victims are finally speaking out. On Sorry Mom, readers can submit anecdotes and photos (eyes obscured) in order to detail for posterity how they "bang the worst dudes" (I'm not sure why it's only dudes—there are plenty of lady douches to go around). Reading the tales of douchery, however, it's clear that one woman's douche is another's date. Hey, some of them aren't that bad! Would you date these douches?

—

DOUCHEBAG: "This bogan thought that living on a bumble-fuck farm playing pool at the only pub and dressing up in panda masks while pretending to hump his friends was fun. I tried to help him sort it out, but it seems some freaks cannot be saved."

OR IS HE? Could someone please tell me how I can get to this bumble-fuck farm, because it sounds awesome.

—

DOUCHEBAG: "One night my friend and I went out and met up with two of her guy friends she had met at her gym, who were both older. I was 28 at the time and the dude I hooked up with was 44 but was in great shape and good looking so I took him home where we started messing around. When we went to do the deed, I noticed I was already soaked and so was the bed. Dude came before we even got started! Awful, I practically kicked him out, but unfortunately I had to give him a ride home. To his boat. Weird."

OR IS HE? Still probably a douchebag, but a douchebag with a boat!

—

DOUCHEBAG: "Sometimes I have a hard time believing I slept with someone who makes it a habit to wear kids' army helmets while playing Guitar Hero. Oof."

OR IS HE? And?

—

DOUCHEBAG: "I thought this guy was super hot when I met him at a club, until he told me he was from the future. I thought it was just his cute, funny pick up line, so it worked. But then the next morning, he was still talking about it. I think he’s either a little bit crazy, or actually from the future. Either way, I feel a bit weird about it. Hmmm."

OR IS HE? I think I actually have dated this guy. He's alright!

* Do you want to see Jay-Z at love tonight? Get ready for some "affection and passion, for the feeling of that first kiss, tingles you feel from a certain touch, soft whispers that excite and move you, and intimate feelings that stir your soul," because that's what you might have to endure to win a ticket to the club. "LOOKING FOR A LADY TO ATTEND LOVE NIGHT CLUB AND PARK NIGHT WITH ME THIS WEEKEND TO CELEBRATE THE BRINGING OF OUT NEW PRESIDENT," writes the poster, who offers up club tickets alongside "discreet affectionate romance, erotic passion, and intense excitement." The posting is accompanied by an illustration of a single rose dripping in diamonds with a cursive script reading, "Hello."

* This 32-year-old man-seeking woman poster seeks not a date, but rather an opportunity to gloat. "If I told you what I do for a living, I probably would have to kill you. Just kidding," he writes. "[A]t times it can get boring. Luckily, it's not so boring right now and for those of you who otherwise cannot make it to the inauguration or just simply can't stand the cold—here is a little picture of me braving the elements as we prepare the inauguration of a new incoming president."

* This 41-year-old local submits his weekend services as a tour guide. "I am looking for an attractive woman who would enjoy a night or more of nice dinners, great conversation, people watching, maybe some nightlife," he writes. "I am not looking for sex, prostitutes, or gay men."

* "How are you tonite?" asks this post, by a man seeking a woman. "[B]raving the cold snap?....about to brave the crush of people for the inauguration?" If you are college-educated, funny, and toned, mayhaps you are just what this North Virginian has been looking for: "Looking for a person with the similar yin (or yang?)" he writes.

* Two twenty-something "bi-racial sexy, fun, intelligent, positive and articulate free-spirits" seek two "cute like-minded guys" for a "fun, obamatastic time." One is "beautiful and slender"; the other, "beautiful . . . with big boobs." Inquire within.

Photo by lolololori

* This 49-year-old local man would "love to have the pleasure of your company over weekend, Monday or Tuesday," ladies. Rest assured that this blond-haired, blue-eyed man about town "knows the dining and club/bar scene, museums, galleries, monuments, etc. pretty well." His "full-disclosure," however, requires bullet points:

- I do not have tickets to the inauguration or the parade.
- Ditto for inaugural ball tickets.

* Hey, this 24-year-old woman doesn't have tickets either. The difference? She's a 24-year-old woman. And she says she's hot!S: "oh and for those who worry that i might be some form of jabba the hut's reincarnate or something like that – i'm a fit, petite? (5'5"ish) brunette. and i don't have any slave girls."

* This "attractive, petite, social, college educated, female tourist from Manhattan" is sick of whatever punk keeps flagging her post for removal. Jealous? "Idk who keeps flagging/removing my post or why," she writes. "Perhaps its someone I chose not to go with. There is no reason to flag this post because there is nothing inappropriate in my add. I'm just going to keep posting it and eventually whomever is flagging it, is going to move on with his life.

* Well, someone's excited! "FREE JANUARY 19,20," writes a 54-year-old ALEXANDRIA VA woman. WOULD LOVE TO HANG OUT FOR SOME CLEAN FUN. AND SEE WHERE IT GO FROM THERE SBF, GOODLOOKING. LOOKING FOR LTR RELATIONSHIP WITH THE RIGHT GUY. BETWEEN THE AGE OF 50-58. LETS PARK OUR CARS AND HAVE FUN FIGURING OUT HOW TO GET AROUND THE CITY ON THIS VERY IMPORTANT DAY IN HISTORY."

* This 23-year-old woman needs a date to a party. A lot of her friends are going to be there, including her ex-boyfriend! Help her show him what he's been missing—if you are "Smart," a "Conversationalist," "Progressive," "prefferably attractive," and are "able to dress appropriately for a party," you could be the Craigslist stranger who goes home alone when she decides she's not over him.

Photo by Woody1778a.