Three times a month, twice a week, once a day, or even more often … it seems like some of us have developed an obsession with the need to have sex the moment we want it, and it doesn’t necessarily matter with whom.
Frequency of sex, along with partner choice and even satisfaction, sits proudly at the top of the list of desires for most college students.
Just the other night, as I was settling into my new apartment, I heard a group of girls hovering outside my bedroom window having a rather odd conversation.
As they stammered and slurred about the night’s events, one young woman cried out that she desperately needed “to get laid.”
A friend, I suppose, responded with, “Why don’t you just go back to the frat party and take someone home?”
To that, our lady in need replied, “Well, I wouldn’t want to do it with any of the frat guys there, but I’m too pretty to go this long without having sex.”
I could agree with her on that first part: with the exception of my best friend who happens to be in a sorority, I avoid the Greek system like the plague. But I could not even begin to wrap my head around the rest of that conversation.
I pondered, with a hint of disbelief, about how much the value of sex has decreased.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am not free from the hormonal surge that curses the typical 20-ish person, but something just isn’t right.
Perhaps I have a new outlook on sex itself, a more well-rounded point of view that has tamed my loins ““ at least temporarily.
Here in L.A., sex is plastered, enlarged and multiplied so the average citizen sees it in the flesh probably upward of 20 times a day.
However, I spent a month in New York this summer, and this regular subjection to human sexuality is not a universal occurrence.
The moment I turned down Waverly Avenue in New York’s Greenwich Village, a quite upscale neighborhood, I witnessed my first public urination in broad daylight. My L.A. bubble had burst.
In Manhattan, sex is very bottom shelf, paper bag, compared to the openness we enjoy here on the west side of the country. This privacy allows sex to maintain its worth.
By not being blindsided with 30 feet of colorful bare skin while driving down Santa Monica Boulevard, there is something left for the imagination to desire.
They have other forms of obscenity to worry about over there. Granted, L.A. is not all like Beverly Hills, but you get the picture.
The point is that I think we, as UCLA students, have become a little spoiled when it comes to sex.
We see it repeatedly; we expect to have it repeatedly. It’s a simple matter of conditioning.
The trick now is to recognize and override that knee-jerk reaction to wanting instant sexual gratification whenever, wherever, just because you think you should be having sex right at that second.
Allow yourself to enjoy having sex when you want it and not having sex when you don’t want it. Don’t feel compelled to need it.
Someone once told me that the normal amount of sex one is supposed to have is about half as often as you want it.
I can’t vouch for this person as the almighty wisdom on sexual frequency, but I’d say it’s a pretty good starting point.
We’ve gotten so caught up in the physical part of a relationship that the substantial pieces are lost.
What happened to just dating for the sake of meeting people you’re compatible with?
There was a reason this outdated form of socialization ““ “dating,” they called it ““ used to precede sex. That reason was to save you from wasting your time having sex with someone who lacks humor, wit, passion or any other trait you find desirable in a mate.
I’ve found that if a guy can’t make me smile and keep me happy outside the bedroom, there is no chance in hell that he is going to do the same between the sheets. Giving him multiple chances to prove me wrong rarely results in any success. The physical attraction needs to be there, yes, but if we continue to have sex just because we can, our love lives will soon go flaccid.
So to the ladies who stood outside my window earlier this week, to the men making booty calls at all hours of the night, and to every student here at UCLA who feels the urge to jump in bed at every opportunity, think about why you want it.
If it’s a person you’d also like to see and perhaps even have a conversation with once you are no longer horizontal, then by all means go ahead.
But if it’s just the sex, hold out until the thought of the entire person gives you butterflies, not just what’s between his or her legs.
The sex is just plain better that way.