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Davis, California

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Column: Sex at your fingertips

Welcome back, loves. Hope you all had a wonderful break. For some of you, the break meant heading back to your hometowns for some much needed family time. For others, it meant stuffing your faces with a silo’s worth of food.

For me, however, the break meant a long weekend away from my boyfriend Arthur. Since I’m so used to sleeping in the same full-size bed with him every night, you can imagine how difficult it was for me to endure a twin-size mattress alone.

Sleeping without Arthur felt weird. He’s slept in my bed since school started (c’mon, how could he resist?), so I’ve gotten used to having him to cuddle with at night. He’s there to lull me to sleep with his beautiful breathing or to “play” when I’m not feeling sleepy after all.

So with over 500 miles between Arthur in his bed in San Francisco and me in my bed in SoCal, there wasn’t anything we could do but tough it out and sleep without each other.

Or was there?

If you watched Wednesday’s “Glee,” you know of a little something they winked at in the episode. While babysitting with pregnant ex-cheerleading captain Quinn, Puck (the hunky bad boy of the series) is seen text messaging “just one of the guys.”

Later, we find out he was actually sending texts to Santana, a snarky cheerleader and less-important member of the Glee Club. But these weren’t just any kind of texts. Turns out she and Puck were sexting – and apparently, her sexts were “too hot to erase.”

Now, sexting isn’t a new concept for me. In fact, Arthur and I have had our fair share of steamy text-message conversations in the past. That was a while ago, though. Frankly, now he’s always around for the real thing.

But seeing it play out right on screen was a wake up call – the show was tailoring to my needs exactly. I couldn’t help but wonder: Were a couple of sexts just what Arthur and I needed to simulate a regular night in bed from miles away?

Like I said, it’s been a while since we had shared intimacies via text – and now that I think of it, I don’t remember ever starting the sexts myself.

I started to panic. How exactly do I start a sext? Do I just dive in and get dirty right off the bat or do I slowly make my way into it? Should I play hard to get or should my true whoreness play into the texts I’m typing? Will my correct spelling and impeccable grammar help get him hot and bothered?

Trying to remember our past sextual conversations, all I could recall were the emotions I felt at the time: the excitement of reading each naughty little phrase, the trepidation that someone might read over my shoulder – it was all so enticing.

Reading the words in a lustful frenzy, my chest heaving emphatically from heavy breathing, was another sensation I remember fondly. I visualized every phrase, every word. Trust me, our sexts left nothing to the imagination.

Think of sext messages as play-by-plays. They’re usually very descriptive in nature. The next best thing, after actual sex, would be to illustrate it in titillating detail. In essence, sexts are intricate step-by-step instructions to sex – in 160 characters or less.

To me, starting a sext conversation is like art: I appreciate the craft, but I could hardly be so daring. So I applaud you if you’re the first to start sexting. I, on the other hand, will be more than happy to return the favor with an erotic response – without spelling errors.

One thing, however, pisses me off about sexting: Waiting for the person to respond.

Arthur’s notorious for the long sextual pause. (I’m waiting for one right now as I write!) I get antsy, flustered and annoyed. Sometimes I even wonder if my sexts are hot enough to keep him interested.

In all honesty, having to wait kills the mood and I’d rather just stop if I have to wait more than four minutes. Words of advice: If you’re going to commit to sexting, don’t keep your sext partner waiting – be kind and respond promptly.

So after long contemplation, I decided I needed to bring sexting back. Our short Thanksgiving separation was the perfect time to rekindle that LED-lit flame.

So that night, I grabbed my BlackBerry, took a deep breath and typed, “Hey stud. Wanna play? ;)”

MARIO LUGO has to say his sexting skills aren’t too shabby. E-mail him at mlugo@ucdavis.edu for some more sexty pointers.


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