The L-Word — 2/24/11

I am in the process of learning an important lesson, and at the risk of embarrassing my boyfriend, it’s a lesson I would like to share with you. Since we are college students, I think it’s fair to say that dining hall conversations pretty frequently revolve around sex and alcohol, but as one of my good friends recently complained, we also talk a lot about our stress. Sometimes I feel like my friends and I are trying to one-up each other:

“Oh man, I have to write a paper and a lab report for next week. This weekend is going to suck.”

“Oh yeah? I have to read two books, write two papers and finish a chapter of my thesis by this Friday, and I picked up a work shift today.”

“Ugh. I have to get 30 more subjects for my study in the next few days, and I have rehearsal every night. And I want to go to the Spring Symposium.”

We go back and forth with all of our commitments and to-do lists, impending deadlines creeping ever closer. It’s a way of confirming a common experience, probably — we’re reaffirming to each other that each of us is not alone in being overworked and under slept, or maybe we’re comparing the Middlebury version of battle scars. Whatever we are doing, I can tell you one thing it’s not: sexy.

Sex and stress just don’t mix. Maybe it’s just me, but when I’m at the end of my rope stress-wise, I don’t even really want to think about sex. I don’t feel sexy — if I’ve been working towards a tight deadline, I probably haven’t showered in a few days, my skin gets pallid, my eyes sink down in my sockets from lack of sleep and I probably haven’t had time to go running or eat regular healthy meals. I smell like day-old deodorant, coffee and stale gummy worms from MiddExpress. Mmm — come and get it, folks. Nothing’s hotter than an irritable stress gremlin.

At this point, I feel I should commend my boyfriend for still wanting to be close to me even in my most gremlin-tastic state. By some miracle he’ll forget to wear his glasses or be fairly bleary-eyed himself and he still tells me I’m beautiful. I have a patient and loving partner who doesn’t pressure me, but I have noticed that sometimes the stress gremlin I become gets even more stressed out because she feels like she should want sex as much as any other 20-something with a willing partner. I know my body is often too tired to prioritize sex — all it wants is decent sleep and 10 minutes just to stare at the wall and not think about anything — but I still think, “I’m 21 years old and full of hormones! I write the sex column! Why do I feel like I need to talk to my doctor about Cialis?”

I want to be the sexual being again that prompted me to write a sex column, and I realize that I need to give myself a break, both from being stressed about sex and from stress in general. I’m mentally cock-blocking myself, and I have found a solution in the advice my adviser gave me for writer’s block: lower my expectations — of myself, of my partner and of the sex itself. It can be wham, bam and thank you, ma’am with none of the usual bells and whistles. It can be a study break self-love session that becomes more of a power nap. Sex is important, but if anything it should be stress relief, not stressful. Keep to-do lists and homework out of the bedroom, but don’t keep sex off the to-do list — just list it under “self-care.” Self-care time might be taking a shower or going to the gym, but sexy time, whether by myself or with my partner, also fits the bill.

So to all of you other stress gremlins zipping through the dining hall or dozing over textbooks in Bi-hall: do something good for yourself today. Take a walk or call your hook-up — hang out with friends or have some special alone time. We all work so hard, but we can’t keep it up if we don’t make time to get it up, get down or just take a break.