Vacation is not real life. You eat whatever you want; drink beverages that easily have over 500 calories; and lay around doing nothing for hours (what reading?). Therefore, vacation is the perfect time for a no-strings attached, purely fun hook up with someone you honestly will probably never see again. Yet, a problem that arises: without your friends and/or a space you already know (a.k.a. not Whiskey or my friend’s house/dorm party), how do you meet someone you can get down and dirty with? Just like our packing list, let’s lay out the necessities in advance.
Tinder: I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Tinder is great. Tinder is even better, though, on vacation, as it enables you to peruse so many options from the comfort of your hotel/hostel bed. During an extraordinarily boring spring break with my family last year, I started chatting with Will, a recent college graduate and aspiring singer/songwriter. After a day or two of texting, he asked if I wanted to hang out. I invited him over to my hotel, where we went for a night swim and hooked up in a cabana. Mission accomplished, and all it took was a swipe right.
Clearly, I’m all about #throwbacks, with articles about the Renaissance of hand jobs and finger blasts. Something I am not in favor of bringing back, however, is the Age of the Obvious Hickey. Remember when hickeys were a true mark of pride? Your friend would come into school wearing a scarf that phe would then excitedly rip off to show you the purple bruise on their neck. What was the point of the scarf if you were just going to take it off or play with it until everyone in your Algebra II class saw what was on your neck? Regardless, by lunch time, everyone knew.
In college, a hickey can be a source of embarrassment, rather than a brag. “Is that a hickey?!” people will ask you in derision. Scarves or make-up are necessary in class or when meeting with a professor. Don’t even get me started on a visit to the CareerLab. Now, whenever I have a hickey, instead of feeling proud, I feel completely self-conscious.
This is a real hickey I received consensually, not a vampire bite.
Last week, I wrote about the hand job: a staple of the early hook up years, whose favor has gone by the wayside. But, what about vagina owners? I think they deserve some hand-love, too.
Since I moved out of my freshman dorm room, I have not discussed “fingering” whatsoever. As an obvious lover of foreplay, I, along with the support of my partners, incorporated it into the pre-sex motions. I failed to give it the “extracurricular” thought it deserved, as my mind was preoccupied with new sex positions and blow job techniques. During Nick Offerman’s lecture at Brown last semester, he talked a lot about how great his sex life is with his wife, Megan Mullally. Nothing stuck with me as much, however, as his discussion of “fingerblasting” her to orgasm. “I want that!” I thought to myself. Similar to the hand job, getting fingered has been seamlessly integrated into foreplay, but does not often get the chance to stand on its own. Furthermore, from my own experience, it seems to be a lot more poking and prodding than anything actually arousing. This is not a gynecologic exam; you’re not trying to feel my uterus. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right, please. So, let’s get down to it after the jump: Continue Reading