The Love and Sex Magazine Vol. II

Love & Sex, Vol. II

Letter from the Editors

Baltimore date spots...........3

Hookup culture: empowering or isolating?.......................10

Learning to survive Happy Valentine’s Day!

situationships......................4

Learning to be single............11

For some of you, today is a happy holiday indeed — a reason to celebrate the romance you managed to find despite being an overworked student.

Professors on love today.....5

Dating in college................12

For others, today is not only a heart-shaped sore on the ugly face of capitalism but also a soul-crushing reminder of your solitude. Yikes!

Rethinking my sexuality.....6

Scrolling past your ex..........13

Regardless, Valentine’s Day probably has you thinking about your love life and sex life or lack thereof, about what it means to be in (or out of) a relationship at Hopkins.

Labelling my asexuality.......7 Racism on dating apps.........14

How helpful are the labels we use to describe our relationships, our romantic and sexual identities? How can we be single and happy about it when pop culture (minus Ariana Grande) seems to tell us we can’t be whole unless we’re cuffed?

One year ago, The News-Letter published Love, Sex and Relationships in order to shed some light on those topics and questions.

We remain committed to this goal.

This year, we’ve conducted research on what society says about the notions of love and sex, and how that message is changing.

We’ve shared our stories of dealing with isolation and existential crises, of discovering independence and empowerment.

Whether you plan on spending tonight on your couch crying into a tub of Ben & Jerry’s or on a study date in Brody (we’re honestly not sure which is more sad), we hope that you find the time to read this magazine.

We love you to pieces of mass-produced candy.

— Rudy Malcom & Karen Wang Magazine Editors 2018-2019

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Survey on love and sex at

Why we are having

Hopkins...........................8-9

less sex today........................15

Love & Sex, Vol. II is is a special publication of The Johns Hopkins News-Letter, the student newspaper of Johns Hopkins University. For general inquiries or information on how to join, email managing@jhunewsletter.com.

The News-Letter can be found online at jhunewsletter.com, in print every Thursday during the school year and on the social media sites below.

JHU News-Letter

@jhunewsletter

@jhunewsletter

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

Planning your ideal date night in Baltimore FIRST DATE Happy hour at Clavel

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With its unmatched plants-and-fairy-lights aesthetic, you’re sure to woo your love interest on a first date at Clavel. Their happy hour special is Monday through Friday, and you can split chips and queso for $8 and sip on some margaritas for $6. Make sure you get in line right at 5 p.m. though because it fills up fast with Baltimore residents who head right to Clavel after getting off work. For those who aren’t of age, they also have tasty non-alcoholic mixed drinks. Pro-tip: If there’s a wait at Clavel, you can always pop on over for a drink at W.C. Harlan, a small speakeasy bar that’s tucked away on the same block.

THE ARTSY DATE Record shopping at The Sound Garden The Sound Garden is a huge record store in Fell’s Point with over 100,000 used and new records, CDs and DVDs. If you and your Valentine are big into music, you can geek out over the mind-boggling number of albums and also share some of your own music taste by pointing out your favorite artists. Bonus points if you head over to Pitango for some gelato after making your new purchases!

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THE BROKE COLLEGE STUDENT DATE Farmer’s market + a Baltimore art museum

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Did someone say free? Dating doesn’t have to break the bank! Luckily Baltimore has many date options that don’t cost a single cent. Most people have probably been to Waverly Farmers Market right on 32nd Street, but Baltimore’s Farmers’ Market and Bazaar is also only a convenient Charm City Circulator ride away and is open from 7 a.m. to 12 p.m. on Sundays. Baltimore also has several free art museums which have plenty of great artwork and also hold events and special exhibits throughout the year. The Baltimore Museum of Art, which has the largest Matisse collection in the world, is a short walk from campus, and the Walters Art Museum in Mt. Vernon is easily accessible via the JHMI.

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THE ROMANTIC DATE Fancy dinner at Tagliata Nothing seems to say romance like a nice Italian dinner. With its beautiful outdoor seating area decorated with lights and complete with a bar, I fell in love with Tagliata the moment I walked past it. If you and your Valentine have been going steady for a while and you want to impress them, split one of their many delicious pastas or a bottle of wine from Baltimore’s largest wine list.

THE LITTLE-BIT-OF-EVERYTHING DATE Books, coffee and a sunset on Federal Hill For those who can’t decide between a date focused on a bonding activity, deep conversation or something super romantic, this date is for you.

You don’t have to love books to find yourself entertained for hours at The Book Escape, a newand-used bookstore in Federal Hill. Walk in and you can peruse hundreds of books that overflow the tall shelves of several rooms. If you get tired, head on over to 3 Bean Coffee, a cozy artisan coffee shop that’s only a five minute walk away. You can reflect on your book excursion and grab a Honey Graham Latte for a quick pick-me-up. For a romantic end to your day, walk up to the top of Federal Hill in the evening, where you’ll be rewarded with a view of the Harbor at sunset.

THE ACTIVITY DATE Square dancing at the Mobtown Ballroom

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Up for a date on the off-beaten path? Bring your date to a square dancing session, which happens every month in Baltimore. The next one is at Mobtown Ballroom on Feb. 23 — not Valentine’s Day, but there’s a student discount so it’s only $7! There’s nothing like swinging your partner round and round to bring you and your date together. Only requirement: Dance like no one’s watching.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

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February 14, 2019

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Learning to survive the “situationship” of a surface-level familiarity, a kind of superficial trust that made me comfortable enough to be intimate with someone but not so comfortable that I actually had to be emotionally vulnerable. Or it could’ve been the idea of keepPUBLIC DOMAIN ing my options Redzinski recounted her experiences in relationships without labels. open, knowing that while I was enjoying something in the moment,

By SARINA REDZINSKI For The News-Letter I could always choose to go enjoy something else if things became difeople have lots of differ- ficult or inconvenient.

Motivations aside, the thing I ent words for it, all with find most interesting about these slightly different implipseudo-relationships in retrospect cations. “Situationship,” is their duality. “seeing each other” and It seems as though they were al“hanging out” are just a few. Ulways one of two polar opposites: eitimately though, they refer to the ther they were a pleasant, no-pressame vague thing: two people who sure way to get to know someone like each other enough to act like a and explore my options, or they couple, but who, for some reason or were an absolutely out of control other, won’t commit. Though there raging dumpster fire of manipulais some overlap in terminology, I’ve tion, confusion and resentment. found these pseudo-relationships There’s really been no in-between. aren’t quite a part of “hookup culThe two best examples of this ture,” really. Instead, they exist in dichotomy happened within just a a strange gray area somewhere befew months of each other. My sophotween “friends with benefits” and an more year, I had a crush on someone official relationship. who I soon became friends with.

This all creates an emotional One night after a concert, we shared limbo in which both parties invest a first kiss. themselves enough to spend hours The next afternoon, we had a and hours together, while simultaneously holding back enough to talk. He declared that he wasn’t (hopefully) not get their feelings ready for a relationship right now, hurt if (and usually when) things go but he liked me and wanted to consouth. It’s a tightrope walk — one tinue to explore things between us.

I nodded along far too vigorously with a very, very skinny rope.

Somehow, this type of relation- and agreed that obviously a seriship became my go-to way of dating ous relationship at this point in our in college. Maybe it was the appeal lives was a bad call. This is usually

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how most of the negative versions of these relationships start: a line gets crossed, and immediately afterward both people scramble to appear as though they’re the one who cares the least.

This was an act that I couldn’t keep up for long. We spent all of our time together, becoming a sort of item without ever openly acknowledging it, and I found myself developing feelings for him that I hadn’t planned or wanted. Eventually, I expressed this to him in the hopes that we could address the issue together.

His response was ambiguous.

After we talked about it, I had essentially no clue how I should act or how he felt about me. All I could really glean from the whole thing was that he didn’t want to be “official,” but he also didn’t want things to end.

What followed were a couple months of consistent manipulation and gaslighting. Confused by both his and my own feelings, I would often ask him for clarity or to lay down specific boundaries. But he had no interest in either unless the clarity and the boundaries got him laid or served his bizarre possessiveness. Any request for respect resulted in the gently patronizing insistence that I was overreacting to being treated badly, citing our unofficial, non-exclusive status as cause for his behavior.

He did what a lot of people do, which is to equate respect with being in an official relationship. Without the label, it seemed he felt no obligation to treat me fairly or kindly.

When it was all over, I felt embarrassed and used.

This is a pretty common experience, from what I’ve heard from friends and peers. Plenty of people disavow these kinds of relationships because of these stories.

But there’s another side to “situ-

ationships.” After my terrible experience, I wanted to disengage from romantic emotional attachment entirely, moving onto just hooking up with people briefly and leaving before things got messy. Then, the Saturday before Easter, I went to a frat party. I usually wasn’t a huge fan of them, but my friends wanted to go, and I figured I’d easily be able to avoid my ex, since he was a typical hipster softboy that likely wouldn’t be caught dead in a frat house.

That night, I exchanged numbers with a sweet frat brother from Long Island. We bonded over our common East Coast roots and poked fun at each other’s favorite football teams. I didn’t expect much to come of it — he’d be graduating soon — but we ended up in our own sort of relationship.

And it was lovely. Without the pressure of labels and expectations, I felt comfortable getting to know him at a natural pace, enjoying his company without sacrificing my independence. He was respectful and seemed to genuinely care how I felt. Even though he soon moved away and we never crossed into boyfriend-girlfriend territory, he restored a bit of my hope in casual relationships.

I see now that it wasn’t about the structure of the relationship itself that had been wrong before — it was the person. When someone only respects their partner when they slap a title on them, they’ll make anyone who they unofficially date miserable.

No relationship can function in a healthy way if one or both parties don’t care about the emotional state of the other.

But if there’s communication, understood boundaries and respect, almost any kind of relationship can be a positive one — yes, even a “situationship.”

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

How have marriage and relationships changed over time?

By JOHN FRYE Staff Writer

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s social media and online dating platforms like Tinder and Hinge become more and more visible in American society, people are beginning to question whether relationships and the concept of love are evolving. Many feel as though technology has superseded human interaction and elevated the desire for quick hookups, while others contend that modern relationships remain fundamentally the same as they were in prior generations.

Sociologists like Andrew Cherlin, the Chair of the Sociology Department and the Director of the Program on Social Policy at Hopkins, are interested in how the perception and priorities of relationships have shifted over time. His research, which focuses on historical differences in marriage and family life, has led him to conclude that there are both notable changes and continuities in how Americans have loved one another over time.

Seventy-five years ago, Cherlin said, Americans chose to marry because of social pressure. He believes that marriage today remains a source of personal happiness and commitment — not just a source of legal benefits. His reasoning stems from arguments for the legalization of gay marriage.

“Lots of legislators said, ‘Why don’t we just give same-sex couples the same legal benefits that differentsex couples have?’” he said. “That wasn’t good enough for LGBTQ activists. They said that marriage is a sign of a first-class personal life.”

Cherlin described marriage as the “ultimate merit badge” and the symbol of a successful relationship.

Jeff Bowen, a social psychologist at Hopkins focused on relationship decision-making, contends that young people seek out stable, successful relationships, even outside

of marriage. In this regard, he says, modern relationships have varied little from their predecessors.

According to Bowen, young people still desire a relationship that brings them happiness.

“People’s ultimate goals have a lot in common with what they were previously,” he said, “whether it’s to feel satisfied in their relationships or to manage a difficult moment.”

While relationships continue to thrive on mutual satisfaction, Bowen claims that the way modern couples achieve this sense of satisfaction is considerably different.

“A lot of those things are common across time,” he said. “But how people experience those challenges and communicate them is evolving with all the other forces within and outside the relationship.”

Much of this change in how partners manage their relationships stems from modern technology’s prominent role in current dating trends, Bowen said. Platforms like dating apps allow people to more directly communicate their interests to potential partners, as well as their goals for a prospective relationship.

Unlike in the past, Cherlin argued, the goal of many modern relationships is self-gratification.

“There’s been a shift in Western culture toward what you might call individualism: the idea that’s what important is my own satisfaction, my own personal growth and development, not my service to others,” Cherlin said. “A century or two ago, no one expected much personal happiness from marriage and family life; it was just something you did. Now marriage, like other decisions we make, is all about ourselves.”

According to Cherlin, that couples are getting married increasingly later in life reflects this attitude.

“Both young men and young women are pursuing more personal development after they graduate from college,” Cherlin said. “What we’ve seen is the emergence of a new

life stage that people are calling ‘ear- is hard to say.” ly adulthood’ that’s between being Bowen pointed to a lack of clear, a teenager and being a full adult: a empirical data about Hopkins stustage of life that goes from, say, 18 to dents’ dating preferences, as well as upwards of age 30 in which people research on students at other univerare gradually doing the things that sities, as an indicator that students at make them an adult.”

Hopkins may very well be interested Marriage, Cherlin said, remains in long-term relationships throughan important aspect of adulthood. out their academic careers.

However, young people are spend“Largely, the research is still ining more time on developing their dicating that even in college, people careers and education before set- share the goal with generations past tling down. Marriage is no longer a of trying to end up in committed building block of adulthood, Cherlin partnerships,” Bowen said. opined, but the “capstone.”

Despite this, Bowen contends This trend is true for Hopkins that the path to this ideal of a comstudents, who, according to Cherlin, mitted relationship has changed tend to put off long-term relation- greatly. And while the interest for ships in favor of short, personally commitment is present, many colgratifying ones until they have com- lege students still prefer to gradupleted their studies. ally ease their way into long-term “Today, if the average Hopkins relationships by engaging in variundergrad called her or his parents ous short-term romantic and sexuand said, ‘Hi, I found somebody I al experiences. want to marry,’ I think the parents Although the two researchers diswould be puzzled and possibly wor- agree on the extent of brief, sex-foried,” Cherlin said. “They’re not cused relationships on college camready to have a long-term relation- puses, they agree that commitment ship because they’re too busy study- will remain integral to American ing to get into medical school, but romance for the foreseeable future. they’d like to have some personal, As Cherlin stated, though marromantic or sexual fulfillment.” riage has changed, its importance in While many Hopkins undergrads society has persisted despite the premight gladly affirm this statement, dictions of many sociologists.

Bowen argues that students might “For decades, I’ve been waiting for be more focused on relationship- marriage to fade away, as lots of peobuilding than they realize. ple predicted it would. It hasn’t,” he “Just from speaking to under- said. “It could be here for a long time.” graduates, it’s certainly the case that academic priorities are a big part of people’s college experience here, and I think that’s true at a lot of institutions,” Bowen said. “The extent to which that might affect priorities COURTESY OF STEPHANIE LEE about relationships, however, Two professors at Hopkins discussed how love has changed in the U.S.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

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I’ve identified as gay for years. Not anymore. about my romantic and sexual attractions, because romantic and sexual attractions did not exist when I was six. They still had a good few years left to develop.

That’s beCOURTESY OF JACOB TOOK cause people I had a ‘make America gay again’ sign at the 2018 Women’s March. are not born with a sexualBy JACOB TOOK ity. Kids are not gay or straight, Managing Editor they’re just kids. Now, we often assign a sexuality to newborn chilLady Gaga’s “Born This Way” is a dren — straight until proven othbop — it topped charts in 25 coun- erwise. The heteronormativity so tries and became one of the best- deeply ingrained in our society selling singles of all time. It’s also raises its ugly head, and we assume a monumental LGBTQ anthem in that baby boys are lady killers and which Gaga embraces her bisexual- baby girls are saving themselves for ity and affirms other LGBTQ iden- their daddies to give to their hustities, singing “I’m beautiful in my bands. With all of the journalistic way / ‘Cause God makes no mis- sensitivity I can muster, I’d like to takes / I’m on the right track, baby I ask: what the fuck? was born this way.”

When I was six years old, I wasn’t “Born This Way” also came out a ladykiller. I wasn’t gay or straight. around the same time I did, at least I was six. to myself. I had a crush on Christian, Why, then, do adults who knew a charming boy in my grade with me as a child insist that I was gay all mischievous eyes and a perpetual along? How could they have known, smirk. Then it was Jackson, the nerd- when I myself didn’t know it until jock crossover of my wildest dreams. sometime during 2011, a full 13 years Then it was Joseph, a boy in my choir after I was born? So you can see why class who kissed me a few weeks be- I have a complicated relationship to fore eighth grade ended.

“Born This Way.” Those boys made me realize that Obviously, Lady Gaga didn’t I was queer. It was not something I write “Born This Way” to advocate thought much about before middle for the sexualization of children. school. Bullies teased me for being She was responding to the still gay when I was younger, but when all-too-common rhetoric which a six-year-old boy calls another six- characterizes sexuality as a choice. year-old boy gay, he means “weird” With “Born This Way,” she became or “gross,” not “has sex with men.” the most high profile person in pop Sure, it wasn’t a very nice thing for culture to say, “Don’t be ashamed that boy to say, but it didn’t make of your sexuality because it’s a natme question my sexuality or think ural part of who you are.”

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For me, the “Born This Way” narrative made it difficult for me to accept that my own sexuality could develop and change over time. I felt pressured to pick a label and stick with it, and for a long time “gay” worked because I didn’t think about it much. I liked men. I was bewildered and repulsed at the thought of female anatomy. I once argued that I wouldn’t touch a vagina for $1,000.

But in the last year or two, I’ve started to rethink my relationship to the label “gay.” I started to realize that anatomy and gender are not the same. I hooked up with trans and nonbinary people and stopped describing myself as gay, preferring to use the more inclusive catchall “queer.”

Even within the LGBTQ community there’s a pressure to pick your labels and stick with them. Often when I tell some people that I’m distancing myself from gay, they immediately suggest I identify as bisexual, or pansexual.

But those labels don’t quite suit me either. I need something that means “mostly gay but not fully committed and open to other possibilities,” but, alas, such a niche label has yet to be imagined.

I know my sexuality will continue to change and develop, and for the first time in awhile I’m not that worried about what label to use.

Some people can’t wrap their heads around it. Without knowing what established label I use, how will you know what type of people I’m attracted to, or what anatomy I prefer?

Here’s a label: none of your business.

My sexuality should be private.

The act of identifying my sexuality,

still unfortunately known as “coming out,” means revealing intimate details about myself and compromising a privacy that straight people take for granted just so that old people will stop asking me if I have a girlfriend.

More importantly, at this time in my life, I just plain don’t know. I don’t feel a strong attachment to any of the common identifiers, and I’m not too stressed because it honestly doesn’t affect my life. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to, I have sex with who I have sex with, and that’s that on that. After years of worrying about my sexuality, I’ve learned that not worrying is actually easier than I thought it would be.

I’ve stepped away from labels altogether because other people had too often given me their own labels without my permission. When I was six, the boys who teased me labelled me as gay. The adults in my life labelled me as gay. And for a while after coming out, “gay” worked fine. But the label stymied my development and made it difficult for me to explore my queerness. It made me afraid of and disgusted by female anatomy.

It stopped me from letting myself be who I am because I was worried who I was didn’t fit the label with which I identified.

Now, “Born This Way” empowers me in a different way. From the moment I was born, I have been constantly changing, developing and growing, and it has never slowed down. My body has grown and will continue to change, and so will my sexuality. That’s a normal part of life.

That’s not a choice — it’s natural. It’s how I was born. I was born this way.

After years of worrying about my sexuality, I’ve learned that not worrying is actually easier than I thought it would be.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

Schrödinger’s sexuality: Waiting for that special someone

By SAM FARRAR Social Media Manager

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n seventh grade, somewhere between the classes that neither students nor teachers cared about and the hormone and Axe-filled gym period, we had one hour set aside every week to visit the library. While I’m sure I would have preferred the patented middle school time-waster coolmathgames.com, the presence of our terrifying school librarian forced me to pretend to actually read.

I usually stuck with fiction. I thought that because the author had made up something, I could do the same thing for my book report.

However, after a few months of pretending to read Percy Jackson, I got bored and made my way over to the non-fiction section, where I found a nice little book about a cat and its owner Schrödinger.

Maybe my developing brain was not prepared to deal with this topic, even in picture book form, or maybe it was pent-up pubescent angst, but that book struck a deep nerve. I basically screamed at my teacher. This is crazy. How can the cat be alive and dead at the same time? It’s either alive or dead. If it’s not alive, it’s dead. If it’s not dead, it’s alive. If I go lock myself in the room, I don’t magically cease to exist! This is stupid!

You are stupid! Science. Is. Stupid.

This experience marked my first existential crisis, something that becomes a semi-regular occurrence in any teenager’s life. Since then I have repeatedly returned to the question of what I can and can’t know. My existential panic reached its zenith

around my sophomore and junior years of high school, when I was still convinced that Schrödinger was dumb — when relationships began to dominate the social sphere and more and more students were having sex for the first time. For the most part, all the kids who hadn’t been in romantic or sexual relationships were doing everything in their power to get one.

However, while they were all asking themselves why they couldn’t find a partner, I was asking myself different questions. Why didn’t I want one? Was that okay, was I okay?

Maybe I had a hormone imbalance or some other medical problem. Everyone around me was thirstier than an alcoholic in a monastery, but I couldn’t relate to any of them.

When all the horny 15-year-olds started talking, I nodded and played along, but in my head I wanted nothing more than for their balls to un-drop. If a friend asked me about a crush, I talked about someone from summer camp or referred to someone far removed from my social group. If an adult asked, I said there was nobody in the picture right now, to which they’d respond, “You’ll find that special someone eventually.”

Whenever that phrase was uttered, I instantly shot back to that library trip in seventh grade. I’m supposed to be limited to this one special person, but what if I never find them? I never thought I had ever experienced sexual attraction, and if I never found this person, then I would never experience it. But if I wasn’t able to experience sexual at-

traction, it would be like being able After reading a Huffington Post to but never finding the right per- series on asexuality, I found online son. Until I found that prophesied communities of people who had special someone, I both could and asked themselves the same questions could not feel sexual attraction. My I had. This felt like a huge weight resexuality was a Schrödinger’s cat. leasing off my chest. As I dug into it We all know, however, that more, I discovered a whole spectrum Schrödinger is dumb and wrong; of asexuality and demisexuality this couldn’t be the final solution. (whereby one experiences sexual atIn the latter half of high school, the traction only after forming a strong concern over my lack of a sex drive emotional bond) which was unreturned into a determination to find lated to romantic orientation. Sudthis magical person that could turn denly, everything I had been covermy pumpkin into a chariot. I forced ing up with fake crushes and terrible myself on a couple dates, and... dates was validated. they didn’t go so well. But at least I However, the question of who learned something! that mythical special someone Although I was still unable to see would be never left me. If somemyself in any sexual relationship, one asks me about my sexuality, I I started to realize that romance still usually say bisexual. If I can’t was something in which I would know if that person exists, I have no actually be interested. I had always chance of determining their gender. thought that romance and sex were, I’ve accepted that they may exist, by their very nature, intertwined. but more importantly I’ve accepted However, I now wondered whether that it’s perfectly fine if they don’t. there were other people like me who Maybe the stacks of papers and saw the two concepts as separate. tests I’ve written at Hopkins while As I matured and my sexual vo- having no idea what I’m talking cabulary expanded, I became able about has made me more accepting to put words to what I was feeling. of what I don’t and can’t know, or I discovered a whole community of maybe I’m just becoming more acpeople calling themselves asexual cepting of who I am, whoever the (ace). Of course, my family always hell that is. had an open mind, but the fact was that in a small, rural Southern town, these things weren’t talked about as much.

Open discourse about sexuality only really began in the twilight of my high school career.

If nobody else knew about it, JIE QI/CC By 2.0 how was I supLike Schrödinger ’s cat, Farrar believes sexuality is not one thing or another. posed to?

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

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Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

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Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

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Hookup culture: empowering, isolating or both?

By ADDY PERLMAN For The News-Letter

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t’s 9 a.m., and you’re trying to rush home before anyone sees you in oversized sweatpants and a T-shirt, carrying your clothes from last night. The infamous walk of shame. But why do we label it as shameful? Why do we consider sex shameful?

I’m from a very small town in southern Georgia, and women are practically taught to hold an aspirin between their knees. The only sex education we get is ‘don’t do it.’ The only exception to that rule is marriage, but most of us are not waiting. We sneak around, lose our virginities in the backs of our boyfriends’ trucks and hope our parents don’t find out. And let’s not even talk about buying condoms or asking for birth control. Those words are as dirty as the f-word.

The boys were superstars if they had sex. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “boys will be boys,” and how many times high fives were given out in the halls of the high school. Why were they praised for their sexual escapades when the girls were “slut-shamed?”

I had a boyfriend, and we had sex all the time, but people didn’t know, so was I a slut or prude? Of course, there was no in between. When I got to college, I naively expected the same nonexistent hookup culture from home. I had seen plenty of romantic comedies and movies about college students having wild sex with different people every night, but because of where I had been raised, I believed that casual sex was purely fictional.

When I first arrived at Hopkins, I was shocked by the hookup culture and how quickly so many adapted to what was foreign way of life to me, but one thing I noticed was that people didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be called a slut if I hooked up with

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someone, and I wasn’t going to be a prude if I didn’t. It wasn’t until my sophomore year that I began to partake in the college hookup culture. I had broken up with my long-distance boyfriend, and now it was time to try what so many of my friends had done freshman year.

At home, casual sex was a phrase never to be uttered, and now I was experimenting with it for the first time. I laughed about partaking in walks of shame, and my roommates and I giggled and joked about it after.

It was empowering to have sex with whomever I wanted and whenever I wanted and not feel judged. At home, I would practically have to wear a scarlet A, but here we could do whatever (or whoever) we wanted. People embraced sexuality, and I embraced mine. I didn’t feel guilty for having one-night stands, and I didn’t feel guilty for expressing my sexuality.

When I told my friends from home about the hookup culture here, they were shocked. The gossiping townfolk judged women, and only women, if they had multiple partners. Why just the women? We should not be labeled as sluts for embracing our sexuality.

As I told them, I was actually thankful for being at school in Baltimore because I was free from clouds of judgment and scornful looks. I was free to be myself, and for the first time, I was happy with who I was.

By KATHERINE GILLIS For The News-Letter

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am, as my mother would say, a “sensitive person who feels things deeply.” She’s not wrong. I have atopic dermatitis — a fancy medical term for “sensitive deep-feeler.” When I’m upset, a rash breaks out on my arms; when I’m stressed, I get bacne that looks like a topographical map of a piece of pizza. Even when I try hiding my feelings, my skin betrays me.

I’ve been single for quite a while now. Dating at college in the digital age seems weird and gross to me.

Tinder is this weird combination of middle school dance and Ancient Roman bathhouse, and it’s hard for me to meet people in real life because I throw off a sexless aura and dress like I’ve been electrocuted.

(Also, I think, because I refuse to get a “gayer” haircut.)

My first relationship was a chasteish, sodie-pop kind of romance. I remember driving home one night when she told me she had a “serious question.” I thought it was going to be something about how you know when you’re in love, or maybe to the prom. She stopped the car and said, “So what does virginity mean to you?”

I was a little shocked. I am very old-fashioned; I love wool sweaters and talking about sex makes me

COURTESY OF STEPHANIE LEE

Perlman partakes in hookup culture at Hopkins, whereas Gillis finds dating at college strange.

want to vom a little. I can’t remember what I said; I think it was “I dunno, fingerblasting?” Everything worked out because I had a very patient and understanding first love.

I have no idea if I will ever get that lucky again.

When I got to college, I wasn’t really worried about sex or dating. I figured that stuff would all work itself out, that I would maybe meet someone at a party or a poetry slam or something. When that didn’t happen, my confidence dwindled until I finally concluded that I was destined to be a premature gray-braid (a term I have coined to describe my middle-aged, lesbian-bed-death future), working at the public library and carrying my NPR tote bag to the community garden on Thursdays. I resigned myself to spinsterhood at 19.

Recently, a friend said something about the narratives we create for ourselves to make our lives more interesting. I started thinking that maybe I had created a narrative of myself as the bald guy from adult cartoons who eats and drinks too much and can’t get a date. But that’s not me. I might feel things strongly, but that doesn’t mean I have to shut down those feelings, or eat them or drink them or pretend they’re not there. It can be really lonely not to have a partner, but it can also be really isolating to participate in hookup culture. It can feel really good to know that you haven’t compromised, and it can be really liberating to find pleasure in someone without the need for a commitment.

I’m still single, and that’s chill because I don’t think it matters for me as much as it used to. My narrative can be that of the Southern Gothic spinster or the ingenue looking for love, or that of the friend who just finally learned how to cook an egg. Whichever way I choose to frame my life, at least I finally got my bacne under control.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

Saving yourself this Valentine’s Day

By GABI SWISTARA For The News-Letter

I

n a world governed by social pressure to love and be loved, knowing how to be single is key to your health and that of your relationships. Knowing how to be single can be difficult, though, when surrounded by rom-coms, love songs and Disney-happy-endings.

Let me start by saying that I love love and am not against relationships. However, I also consider selflove a crucial and often overlooked skill, especially at this time of year.

This is a challenging article to write since everybody has different views on relationships, but this is my attempt to help you, my reader, feel content with yourself — which will in turn boost confidence and life satisfaction. That said, the following is general advice; always prioritize listening to your emotions.

Below are worries that I or my friends have had, followed by some ways to tackle these worries.

I keep thinking about my past relationships. They all failed, so I must be awful at love.

Valentine’s Day is a time many people spend reflecting on their past relationships. It’s a commonly held belief that a history of failed relationships means you’re bad at love. This is untrue; we learn from failing. Experience makes you wiser and ‘better.’

Many of us tend to blame ourselves for failed relationships, which is damaging to our self-esteem. But why be sad about the fact that you had relationships? Why feel pain spending the holiday with the greatest love of your life: yourself? In the end, you’re the most important person in your life; you always have been and always will be.

Additionally, sometimes things

don’t work out even if you and your beloved want the same thing. Sometimes your significant other can care a lot about you, and it might still not work out. It’s tough to see the forest through the trees; as my friend Emily Velandia told me, heartbreak is egocentric. We tend to focus on why they broke our heart rather than why they took care of themselves.

But trying to see your ex’s perspective can help. Find t houg ht s that make you feel content with the past, happy about the present and confident for the future.

I don’t want to be single.

It’s better to be single than with the wrong partner. Furthermore, relying on others to make you happy is always a gamble. It’s often thought that a romantic relationship will make you happier, but you can’t be happy with others until you are happy with yourself. Taking time to know yourself better will lead to better relationships and finding yourself can come in any form, from travel to hobbies, from hookups to celibacy.

Finally, just because you’re alone does not mean you’re lonely. Society has always pushed people into this binary wherein they cannot feel whole if they’re alone. But you are whole on your own. Don’t date somebody simply to avoid being single; make sure every individual in your life is making you happy.

I’m in a relationship, but I’m not sure if I still want to be.

Ask yourself: Do you feel physically and emotionally safe with your partner? Can you be yourself around them? Are you happy? Rather than saying that life moves on and you’ll always find your next partner — which is true but unhelpful when you’re hooked — try to take care of yourself. Do what makes sense for you right now. That m i g h t change (for me, it’s constantly changing), and that’s okay too.

I worry that if I don’t wish my crush a happy Valentine’s Day, they’ll think I don’t care about them.

Frequency of communication in relationships can cause anxiety.

I always worried that if I reached out too much I’d look needy, but if I didn’t reach out enough they’d think I didn’t want them in my life. This is catastrophizing; being quiet does not take away memories you share with them, and space can be a good thing.

On the other hand, if someone’s into you, they probably won’t think you’re being needy when you communicate.

Think about it like this: You care about your crush but may not reach out every day. But you do care about them. The same can be true for them.

I want to tell my crush I like them, but I’m worried about getting hurt.

First off, there’s no wrong way

to go here. Whether you tell them or not, you’ll make that choice for a reason. It’s ultimately about risk assessment. Are you willing to risk whatever relationship you currently have for the relationship you want to have? Both answers are 100% valid; you’ll make one decision or the other for a reason, so trust your reasoning.

Now to touch on the worry. It is natural to fear rejection and the following sadness. No one likes being sad. I was afraid of being sad for a long time and, although I don’t enjoy it, I’m okay with it now. It’s natural. Sitting with your feelings is important. Furthermore, sadness is caused by something, so knowing why you’re sad is a big step to knowing how to make yourself happy. Finally, do not be afraid of a broken heart. Heartbreak reminds us that we’re human. Emotional pain is something we all share sometimes.

I miss my partner too much when we’re apart.

It’s natural to miss your partner!

Feeling insecure when they’re not with you, though, can be unhealthy.

The toughest thing is finding someone you’re still content with when away from them. I have found that in unhealthy relationships, if you’re not comfortable being apart, it’s often due to a lack of trust.

How do I even love myself?

My favorite methods of self-care include reminding myself of my accomplishments (no matter how small) and body-positive thoughts.

Your body tells the story of who you are. Stretch marks? Maybe you created life. Bags under your eyes? Maybe you were so excited about life that you couldn’t sleep. Have some fat?

Maybe you enjoy food. And so on.

No matter your current relationship status, take care of yourself!

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

11

Top makeout spots How dating expectations change in college around campus

By CLAIRE BEAVER Arts & Entertainment Editor

The FFC at Sterling Brunch An empty classroom Back row of the Blue Jay Shuttle The Beach Roof of the Rec Center On top of the University Seal Sitting on top of a cubicle on D Level The BMA The parking garage On top of the Johns Hopkins University sign At CharMar in the gluten-free aisle In the Gilman tunnel A chemistry lab in the UTLs UniMini at 2 a.m.

Wyman Park Dell in front of the former Confederate monument The newly-renovated seats in Shriver The island in the middle of N. Charles St. during rush hour The textbook section of Barnes & Noble

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T

he act of dating is complicated, to put it lightly. To text or not to text. To Snapchat or not to Snapchat. To wait a certain amount of time before responding to the text so you seem like you’re not on your phone 24/7 and have a very cool life or to not. These decisions feel monumental in the moment, creating a pressure that other generations just don’t understand.

Everyone has different experiences with “dating in college,” and yes, many consider it a much different art form than “dating in real life.” As one leaves behind their high school lover for something more mature, we seem to almost digress.

How can a simple text message make us feel so wanted or unwanted? I myself have spent undisclosed amounts of time checking my phone and have seen my friends do the same.

Looking back on times that I’ve felt stress and excitement over sending a goddamn text message seems ridiculous, but this shared experience is what makes “dating in college” so interesting.

Other people just don’t do that.

Sure, people will send a text to make plans or say something quick, but the long-form conversation seems to be exclusive to college students. I would bet that almost everyone you know can relate to the feeling of waiting, of finally asking that one person you’ve kind of been texting to hang out, of hoping to pass them in Brody and giving the coy kind of smile saved for someone you have barely spoken to in real life (yet).

Though I can dream of curating the perfect Instagram and a clever yet not over-thought bio, I know that I am someone who is better in person. I am too easily overwhelmed by my online image and who might look at it and what they might think of me, so I have recently tried to step away from social media. I believe doing so has helped me in my relationships, both platonic and not-so-platonic.

Everybody knows that when you’re waiting for a text or a Snapchat, minutes can feel like excruciatingly long hours. But something amazing that I’ve recently discovered is that when you’re talking to someone you care about in real life, hours can feel like minutes. I recently sat at a cafe for three hours, assuming it had been only 30 min-

utes, because I was actually engaged and not looking at my phone every five minutes. The cool part is that there’s no need to check your phone obsessively when you’re actually with the person, or people, you want to talk to.

To me, expectations are dumb, especially in regard to dating. How can everyone expect the same thing, the same flirting form, to work with every new relationship or “friends with benefits” or “thing,” whatever the fuck that means? Hopkins is an environment rife with anxiety as it is, why add to it by forcing yourself to conform to friends’ methods and what you think you need to do?

Something I hear often at Hopkins is that “everyone here sucks.” Which is just an absolutely insane thing to say and definitely something I’ve uttered, but I’ve come to find out that it isn’t true.

Sure, there are people who suck, and I’m sure many people classify me in that category, but what your mother said was true — when you stop looking, you’ll find someone you genuinely like.

Discussing dating pressure can’t be done without including that dash of peer pressure. College essentially requires us to compare ourselves to that couple that met freshman year in the AMRs and have been dating ever since, as well as to that cool friend who goes on Tinder dates and has a new beau whenever they want. Discussing our love lives is all fun and games until you realize the last time you had sex was over a year ago or not at all or yesterday, and somehow every answer seems wrong.

The pressure to conform to what your friends are doing is so aggressive in college because you live on top of everyone you know and get close to people so quickly. This setting is great for getting to know people rapidly and bad for jumping into things you might not be ready for.

The fact that college kids are pressured to date, hookup or do whatever their friends are doing is enough to overwhelm anyone and can make it too easy to fall into something you wish you hadn’t.

Dating in college isn’t necessary, contrary to how it may seem.

In my attempt to avoid turning this article into unsolicited advice about love and sex in college relationships, all I can really say is stop checking your phone every second. Or don’t. Just do what feels good for you, and if those Snapchats are stressing you out, delete the app.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

Learning to move on in real life, and online

By MORGAN OME Editor-in-Chief

E

ach morning, a Facebook notification arrives at the same time with the same message: “On this day, you have memories with…” That’s usually accompanied by a list of seven people, five of whom I don’t talk to anymore.

The other day, instead of dismissing the notification, I opened it and started scrolling through the photos and posts of past-me. I paused at one picture from my senior year of high school. Captured in the unflattering orange light of a grainy iPhone camera, I am standing next to my high school boyfriend, beaming. Both of us have bad acne and are wearing aprons made of floral print fabric, holding a tray of biscotti that we have just baked.

I smiled at 17-year-old me because she looked happy and in love. My high school boyfriend and I don’t keep in touch anymore, but seeing the photo made me feel a surge of fondness. I was reminded of senior prom and singing to Bruno Mars in the car, of early morning marching band practices and riding bikes by the San Francisco Bay. And I was grateful to Facebook for starting my day with a reminder of all of these things.

For the recently broken-up, however, Facebook is possibly the least helpful remedy for the sting of heartache. There’s no doubt that social media can exacerbate the longing and hurt that comes after the end of a relationship. After my high school boyfriend and I broke up, I moved across the country to Hopkins, and thought that the geographic distance between us would help me move on. But then, I would be sitting down for breakfast in the FFC, see my ex’s latest Instagram post and subsequently start crying over my plate of waffles.

I’m not saying that social media is inherently unhelpful for people going through breakups. In the last few years, Facebook has developed features to help with this process. A team of researchers – known as the Compassion Team – work to make the platform more user-friendly for people going through breakups. For example, you can “take a break” from someone without unfriending or blocking them. You can also hit a button to untag all posts and photos that you’re tagged in so that you don’t need to manually remove yourself from your ex’s social media presence. These technolo-

gies are supposed to soothe the broken-hearted and ensure that their emotional stability won’t be compromised by a surprise post in their newsfeed.

As I was going through my first breakup, many of my new friends told me to unfollow, unfriend and block my ex, but I didn’t want to seem like I was being overly dramatic. That wasn’t what a chill person would do. So I let time pass, tried (and failed) to resist the urge to check his profile and slowly stopped thinking about him.

During my sophomore year, I started dating someone new. Neither of us was concerned with documenting our relationship online, and it never bothered me that there really was no digital record of us together. We existed in the real world, and that was much more important.

We broke up last year and one of the biggest reliefs was that I didn’t have to worry about erasing our social media presence. No changing my relationship status. No deleting Instagram posts.

No “On this day” notifications.

But what I wasn’t prepared for was running into him daily in the library, or seeing him at our mutual friend’s birthday party. Unlike my first relationship, I didn’t have the luxury of being in a completely separate space (or state). It was much harder to block someone in real life. I tried to take longer routes to class and spend my nights at home, but we would inevitably cross paths at least a few times a week. Hopkins may be a “midsized institution,” but when you’re trying to avoid someone, it certainly feels small.

I thought that by avoiding a social media breakup, I would feel better. But instead, I had to confront him in real life, and that was equally, if not more, difficult. We can try to use social media to heal, or we can use it to continually reopen old wounds. But ultimately, there are no shortcuts to recovering from a broken heart. Whether online, or in person, time and space – cliche, I know – are the only two cures that have any chance of working.

In the meantime, watch Great British Bake Off with a group of friends; spend some time reflecting and journaling; dance until midnight at The Crown. Do things that will soothe and comfort yourself. And if you feel like you need to, block your ex on Facebook.

Just don’t be afraid to document your relationship while it’s happening. When your heart has healed, looking back on your relationship can remind you of all that love has to offer.

Playlists for love and loss Falling for You “The Louvre” by Lorde “Ceremony” by New Order “Where Is My Mind” by The Pixies “I Feel the Earth Move” by Carole King “On + Off” by Maggie Rogers “I Dare You” by The xx “Is This Love” by Bob Marley & The Wailers “I’ve Got The World On A String” by Frank Sinatra “Knock You Down” by Keri Hilson

Heartbroken “Happier” by Marshmello and Bastille “Breathe Again” by Sara Bareilles “Hero” by Regina Spektor “In My Blood” by Shawn Mendes “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt “For Emma” by Bon Iver “(One of Those) Crazy Girls” by Paramore “I Fall Apart” by Post Malone

Relationship Bliss “I Like Me Better” by Lauv “Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap “No Choir” by Florence + The Machine “Simple Things” by Miguel “At Last” by Etta James “Everyone’s Talking” by James Hersey “Never Be the Same” by Camila Cabello

Moving On “Tears Dry On Their Own” by Amy Winehouse “Dirt Off Your Shoulder” by JAY-Z “Shut Up and Let Me Go” by The Tings Tings “Dancing On My Own” by Robyn “No Scrubs” by TLC “Smile” by Lily Allen

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

13

How dating apps promote sexual racism

By SARAH Y. KIM Opinions Editor

I

am not your Korean fetish.” That was the Tinder bio I wrote last summer, which came with some decent pictures of myself and a surprise painting of Judith slaying Holofernes. A not-so-subtle finger to the patriarchy.

Needless to say, I didn’t really want to be there. Since then I have not opened my Tinder in several months, and I’m pretty sure that my account has been disabled. Hookup culture doesn’t appeal to me, and the only thing I had in common with most of these men was that I like The Office.

There’s more to my dislike of dating apps, though, than my lack of interest in hookups and my unreasonable tendency to freak out every time I accidentally swiped right. For the week or two that I fiddled with Tinder, my race was a greater source of anxiety than ever.

Wherever we go, minorities deal with sexual racism. But dating apps are particularly toxic environments, where people seem to be more comfortable parading their embarrassing “preferences.” These go beyond yellow fever: They include the aversion to effeminate Asian men and their small penises, the idolization of white people, the fascination with the supposed sexual aggression of black people (“jungle fever”) and the hypersexual “spicy Latina.” The general fixation on the so-called exotic.

It’s all too common for users to specify their “preferences” in their bios (descriptors like “no Asians” or “no blacks” may sound familiar) and to harass minorities with their warped fantasies.

Part of this has to do with a culture of superficiality on dating apps. There’s only so much that we can share about ourselves. While some of us may come up with compelling, detailed bios, it’s ultimately our physical appearances that determine whether people swipe left or right. Race, whether we like it or not, factors into this.

Studies show that people do tend to choose

between potential partners based on their ethnicity and race, though they might not always do so consciously.

A well-known survey by online dating service OkCupid shows that when it comes to malefemale couples, people were generally more interested in dating people of their own race (except for white men, who favored Asian women over white women by a three percent margin). Otherwise all non-white groups — except black men and women — were most interested in white partners.

The data is hardly surprising. Psychologists agree that we are generally attracted to what is familiar, and for many of us, that’s people of our own race. That’s especially understandable when it comes to minorities, as we may be able to bond more easily over shared experiences and traumas.

As for white people, they pervade the media, populating our favorite books, TV shows, films and commercials. Even if we do not live among them, they are more familiar and have determined beauty norms. Their privilege, in short, makes users think they’re more desirable.

In failing to look beyond such options, however, we may risk adhering to our racial biases and dehumanizing other minorities in the process. Dating apps only enable such behavior patterns. For example, apps like Grindr have gained notoriety for allowing users to filter out entire racial groups (Grindr recently sought to address sexual racism by introducing an initiative called “Kindr”). Even apps without such filters quietly reinforce your racial biases.

A 2018 study from Cornell University shows that dating apps have algorithms that analyze the race of your previous matches and recommend new potential partners who are of the same racial group. Such features would certainly do little to expand your own horizons, and it would certainly mean that minorities will not get a fair chance at love.

If we are to combat sexual racism, dating apps would also be a good place to start. According to the study, researchers estimate that one-third of marriages start online and that 60 percent of same-sex couples meet online. Whether people

Being excluded and dehumanized on the basis of race or ethnicity shouldn’t be a norm.

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COURTESY OF STEPHANIE LEE

Kim explored how dating apps promote harmful stereotypes. are using dating apps for casual hookups or in the hopes of finding love, being excluded and dehumanized on the basis of race or ethnicity shouldn’t be a norm.

Apps can be more inclusive by adjusting algorithms and getting rid of racial filters. They can also be more proactive in raising awareness about racial stereotyping in dating for its users, as Grindr was last year.

But that won’t be enough. Fighting sexual racism also means detecting and reexamining our own biases. We can’t help having them, but we can make all the difference by confronting and dismantling them.

But change is slow, and I can’t foresee a time in the near future where I’ll feel comfortable getting back on Tinder. So why bother? I’m already plenty uncomfortable. The last thing I need is PUBLIC DOMAIN yet another reminder that I’m just a tight, exotic Chinese sex doll.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

February 14, 2019

Why are we having less sex today than ever before?

By ALYSSA WOODEN Managing Editor

B

ased on the media’s depiction of young adults, one would think that all college and high school students are having a lot of sex all the time. There are entire TV shows that focus on the sex lives of teenagers.

But recent survey data seem to suggest that people are having a lot less sex than we think they are.

According to the national Youth Risk Behavior Survey, the percentage of high school students who have ever had sex declined from 54 percent in 1991 to 39.5 percent in 2017. Since 2007, the percentages of high schoolers who have had four or more sexual partners and who are currently sexually active have also decreased.

The results are similar for college students. The 2018 National College Health Assessment found that only 66 percent of students had sex in the past 12 months, compared to 72 percent in the 2000 assessment. This trend holds true for Hopkins students; The News-Letter’s recent survey found that about 67 percent of students are sexually active.

Taken as a whole, the data seem to show that fewer young people are having sex today than they were a de-

cade or two ago, and even those who are having less of it. Publications like The Atlantic, Cosmopolitan and Tonic have picked up on this trend, publishing articles that attempt to determine the factors behind it and to examine its possible implications.

The Atlantic, which labeled this phenomenon the “sex recession,” speculates that young people may be prioritizing their education and career over their sex lives, and thus are waiting longer to partner up. This is consistent with data from the U.S. Census Bureau, which found that the median age at first marriage has increased from 24 and 26 in 1990 for women and men, respectively to 28 and 30 in 2018.

Chris Kraft, director of clinical services at the Johns Hopkins Sex and Gender Clinic, agrees that this theory may be valid. He added that delaying fi nding a relationship may make it more difficult to secure one later on.

“There’s some people that genuinely don’t want to be in relationships at certain stages in their lives, particularly when people are in college or school, and they’re going to be moving for school or for their career.

I’ve seen people say, ‘this is not a time to be in a relationship,’” he said. “But then I’ve seen other people who have gotten into their careers, they’ll say, ‘I’d really like a relationship now,’ but it’s hard to find one.”

The Atlantic also theorizes that increased access to technology may be impairing people’s social skills and making it

more difficult and inconvenient to find sex partners.

With the rise of internet porn, there’s a reduced need to find sexual satisfaction in the real world.

This is consistent with data showing that the percentage of men and women who masturbate has risen dramatically in recent years.

Although Kraft believes there has been a positive shift toward more acceptance of masturbation and pornography, he is worried that the decreasing prevalence of partnered sex may result in greater loneliness and isolation, potentially leading to depression and anxiety.

“It’s harder to form relationships or people are delaying having relationships,” he said. “And then they don’t develop social skills because they’re too isolated and lonely to actually connect with people, so it’s kind of a negative feedback loop.”

Some researchers, however, have refuted the claim that Americans really are having less sex. They point out that many of the surveys that collect data on sexual activity don’t defi ne what counts as sex.

Does oral or anal sex count? What about mutual masturbation? The Youth Risk Behavior Survey considers only “sexual intercourse,” while the National College Health Assessment asks about “oral, vaginal and anal” sex. Data suggest that oral and anal sex have been increasing in popularity since the early 90’s, so maybe it’s not that we’re having less sex — it’s just taking a different form.

Love & Sex, Vol. II The Johns Hopkins News-Letter

Whatever the causes or implications of this so-called “sex recession,” there isn’t necessarily cause for alarm. There are still plenty of people who are able to find relationships and sex partners, and public perceptions of sex and sexuality continue to grow more progressive. In particular, Kraft noted that he has seen a significant positive change in the way women can express themselves sexually.

“If women choose to be casual, that can be seen as a positive and not as a negative,” he said. “There’s still a double standard, and it still can get much better, but I’ve seen a change in women being able to express their sexuality and talk about their sexuality.”

Or perhaps, as both Kraft and The Atlantic suggest, the #MeToo movement and today’s lower tolerance for sexual assault and coercive sex might partially explain this phenomenon. It’s possible that in recent years, people have felt more empowered to refuse sex they don’t want to have. To Kraft, this is a potential benefit of the sex recession.

“One of the benefits to not being [as] sexual is that when people are sexual, it’s probably better,” he said.

“Having less sex could be a part of some trend where people are being sexual and intimate with partners when it’s best for them. And they’re hopefully more satisfied.”

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February 14, 2019