Dane the Great

Ah, facebook. Can’t revise with it, can’t have a social life without it. These days at least. That’s a bit of a hyperbole, but it has become the most-used forum for sharing media, announcing events, and now even trumps email as the way to send personal messages. Supposedly two yanks at Oxford created it while they were at Harvard. Oh, do they row too? I forget. It’s not as if that was the only thing mentioned in the BBC commentary leading up to the boatrace. Who won again? Just kidding, I was at the boatrace, standing on the shores of the Thames, sipping from my pint as those banana-like boats sailed past. I digress, this is not a Rower Blue Part II or anything involving a threesome with the Facebook Twins. The facebook homepage changes more often than my timetable, and has now begun to include what they presume to be a handy little sidebar of ‘Suggestions.’ “You have 2 mutual friends with this person, why not be their friend too?!” they suggest, excitedly. Well, if I wanted to be friends with them I would have sought them out through that handy little search bar you’ve provided, wouldn’t I? This [...] There's more...

The Sexth Sense

I was in the toilets of a club last night, standing at the sinks and giving myself a quick look-over in the mirror when a girl walked in and pushed a cubicle door open, accidentally hitting whoever was slouched on the ground and hugging the toilet for dear life. Having had no idea anyone else was even in the toilets at the time, I was equally as startled as the girl who barged in on this girl taking a nap in the loo. “Oh! Sorry! … Sarah? Is that you?” “Yeah …” Sarah said, her voice echoing through the porcelain. “Are you alright babes?” Now, I don’t know these girls. But it was clear to me that Sarah was obviously not alright. “Yeah,” Sarah lied. “Do you want some water babes?” “Uh huh.” Now, this idiot friend walked to the sink, downed her VK, poured some water into the somewhat empty bottle, then brought it to Sick Sarah. Great, that’s just what she wants, alcohol-scented water. “Here, now don’t spill it.” Right, yeah make sure you don’t spill water on yourself, because then you’d really look ridiculous. I heard the bottle hit the floor. Guess she’d be looking slightly more [...] There's more...

Out of the Blue

I’m sitting in the bar of a restaurant being antisocial with my laptop and pint, mostly because the bar is full of businessmen and business school students and I want to exude the ‘don’t approach me’ vibe. (By the way, I wrote this the other night. I’m not sitting in a bar at 9:45 in the morning on a Thursday). In light of recent events a date with myself is what’s needed I feel. Do I wish things had gone differently with Dill? Not really to be honest. I can’t recall once in life having something bad happen which didn’t begat something better. Disasters are warning signs that there’s something else you’re meant to be doing. Or someone else in some cases. The things I do feel bad about, or thing rather, is Dill’s girlfriend. I ran into her about a day after the party and the fight with Dill, and we had a chat about nothing in particular. She asked if I had been alright that night because I had looked ‘upset.’ Bollocks. If I didn’t feel bad enough as it was before, I certainly felt like a right twat then. Here was a girl, who is clearly suspicious [...] There's more...

Dill the Dilemma

Dear Readers and fellow sex-havers (or non-havers in some cases – Sexless@Oxbridge you know who you are, and thank you for ceasing to proposition me), I have lied to you. Why, might you ask, would I bother lying to a group of anonymous followers who have no idea who I am or who I’m actually talking about? That in itself is a good indication that deep down I knew what I was doing was wrong. I had sex and did not tell you. It wasn’t the kind of ‘ha-ha he has a small willy’ sex or ‘ha-ha we fell off the bed in the middle of it’ sex. It was ‘I had sex with Dill/Wes/Whatever the hell I call him/still has a girlfriend’ sex. There’s no ha-ha here. February Dill was the most unsuspecting of the Underground Gang. Arguably the most attractive (depends on your type, T3 is quite easy on the eyes as well), Dill was the one I knew the least until a couple months ago when he kissed me out of the blue. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” he stammered. I had always thought he was attractive and that it was rather unfortunate [...] There's more...

The Sunday Times

As I perused the Sunday Times today (namely the magazine supplements) a couple of things caught my eye. Style: Update (by Shane Watson) “Never Befriend the Help” “We already know about frenemies (friends who are, on closer inspection, enemies). The fremployee is an employee who you mistake, at your peril for a friend (or a daughter, or an Eliza Doolittle figure) – another toxic relationship guaranteed to end in tears.” One of the benefits of living in college is that we have cleaners. The woman who cleans my accommodation is a lovely person who I often chat to. I may not pay her directly, but her fees are no doubt included in my rent, therefore this article is vaguely relevant to my relationship with her. I found this article appalling. As if women didn’t have enough reasons to turn against each other, now we have to be wary that those who happen to work for or around us are out to get us? I wouldn’t call this woman one of my best friends per se, but we have sat down to a cup of tea to talk about boyfriends and what we did over the weekend. We know quite a [...] There's more...

Post Script on Grazia

If the first post regarding the Grazia article seems like a laundry-list of responses, it’s because it is. It is a lengthy answer to a lengthy prompt: “Explain why you are having one night stands rather then looking for a relationship (is it because you’re so busy studying you can’t maintain a relationship, does it make you feel good about yourself etc). This bit needs to be anecdote heavy! Tell us about the different men you’ve slept with (like the Rugby Blue). Where do you meet these men? Why did you decide to write the blog? There’s been a trend for confessional blogging recently, with Belle du Jour and ‘Girl With A One Track Mind’. Do you think we really need another sexcapades blog? Did you expect it to be so controversial? You’ve been called a ‘closet nympho’ has this been exaggerated? Do you feel, in this day and age, as a women sleeping around still carries a stigma. Do you feel people have higher expectations of you because you’re an academic – like there’s this strange idea you can’t be intelligent and enjoy sex! Do you think you’d be treated differently if you were a man writing a blog? Or an [...] There's more...

Grazia

There is an interview with yours truly in this week’s Grazia, and I suggest everybody run to your nearest newsagent to buy it. The story about Angelina is absolutely fascinating! (They put in a plug for my blog, so the least I can do is plug their magazine, which I love and read religiously.) However, they had also requested initially that I write something myself. Which I did. They left out most of what I wrote, namely the sex, in their article, so here is what I wrote: ~ I enjoy casual sex with men. A lot. I also enjoy life as a student at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. It is unlike anything else. Surrounded by some of the world’s most intelligent and talented students and academics, how could I not be turned on? As a woman I find it absolutely sexy to be in the company of someone who is trying to cure cancer, or who will be representing their country at the London Olympics. I tend to gravitate towards the latter though . . . My recollection of the Rugby Blue who wanted anal sex is perhaps the most famous of the sex [...] There's more...

Oxbridge Blues – Part II

The problem with pseudo-celebrities is that they believe that they are entitled to have sex with you because of who they think they are. Ladies and gentlemen, do not be fooled. These are normal people like you and me. Have you ever met an Old Blue? They are draping with self-importance, which becomes pathetic when you’re a fat thirty-something. A blue might last forever, but your right to sleep with attractive women has a very short life span. Knowing Blues old and young I can say that it is a very fine line between humility and being a completely egocentric cock. Having attended functions with said Blues, I am less than impressed by some of their behaviour. An old blue, mid-piss on the side of a college, turned around and asked if I would like for him to piss on me. No, no I don’t think I would like that. And I’m sure the Pembroke Porters don’t like you having a wee on their college either. Do these men believe that they are immune to the rules of common decency? I might like sex, but I don’t like arseholes, and I am willing to maintain a pretty extensive degree of standards [...] There's more...

The Underground Gang

In case it wasn’t clear, the majority of my close friends are male. Some are ex-boyfriends, some were friends-turned one night stands after being out drunk together and getting crazy one night, but most of them are just friends and never have been, and probably never will be, lovers. I enjoy the company of men for a multitude of reasons: They rarely get jealous They don’t like to talk about other boys and how much they do or do not like them and whether or not they think that boy likes them back. They like to watch and talk about sports. They more often than not find me attractive, which is always a boost to the self-esteem. In short, they are not female. I do not have a problem with girls. They usually have a problem with me oddly enough. Because I get along with men better than I generally do with women, and thus surround myself with men, this can often ignite jealousy or resentment in other girls, especially if one of the said men surrounding me is their boyfriend or a boy they would like to make their boyfriend. More often than not, I pose absolutely no threat [...] There's more...

Forget Diamonds – Lads are a Girl’s Best Friend

“Where did you end up the other night then?” I had been expecting this call since the morning after the other night. It was my best friend, a boy we shall refer to as Lad Boy. “I ended up staying with your friend, T.” Lad Boy laughed into the phone. “Ahh, that’s brilliant. So you managed to find a place to stay then?” We had been a bit far out from my college and I had been whinging about the taxi fare home all evening. “Go out on the pulllll,” Lad Boy suggested. “That’s what I’m going to do!” “Yeah, alright then,” I said jokingly, and then Lad Boy introduced me to his friend, T. T was not the kind of guy who immediately catches my attention. He was carrying on about three different conversations at once, and had been speaking to Lad Boy for about two minutes with me sitting there before he reached his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met.” “No, we haven’t.” “I’m T.” (Obviously he didn’t introduce himself as “T” – I rarely trust men who only use a letter for their name. Unless their name is Jay – but for the [...] There's more...