I was hanging at a dude friend’s place last week with a few other friends, mostly dudes. As it usually does, the topic eventually turned to sex, and one of my friends started telling this story about a girl he slept with a few years ago. Midway through the story, another (male) friend turned and said “oh is this about Turkey Sandwich?”

Then everybody laughed. Except me, because I didn’t know what the hell that meant.

Let me preface this with the fact that these male friends of mine are not douchey beer can crushing frat boys. They are nice and genuine, and until this exact moment I had never witnessed anything appalling about the way they treat, speak to or speak about women. Nothing they had ever said or done before had ever fired off my misogynistic flare gun.

Back to the story.

“Turkey sandwich? Why do you call her turkey sandwich?” I asked.

I was hoping for some tale about how every time they would have have sex, she would make him a really great turkey sandwich after. Or maybe they met while he was working at a Blimpie and he always knew her order was a turkey sandwich? Extra olives?

My friend, let’s call him Jim Bob, went to explain that this girl had hooked up with one of his friends years before the two of them one-night-standed. “Okay, and…” I pressed.

Jim Bob responded, “well what do you do with leftover turkey after thanksgiving?”

“I don’t fucking know, I’m vegan,” I said. Just kidding, I didn’t say that. I stared at him blankly.

“You make a turkey sandwich,” he punch-lined.

Me and the one other girl in the room proceeded to projectile vomit on Jim Bob’s head. Just kidding, but I wish we did.

“Wait wait, let me get this straight,” I said. “This girl did nothing wrong other than deem you worthy of having sex with, but because she also had sex with one of your friends you’re labeling her a left-over?”

I was all kinds of horrified, because this was a 28-year-old male, who up until that point had always showcased logic, reason, compassion, decent judgement and good taste in whiskey. This wasn’t some punk-ass college frat boy or anyone with an unmanageable ego. Jim Bob had always seemed like a sweet guy!

Worse, the other guys in the room didn’t seem to be disturbed by this. They went on to discuss other nicknames given to girls they have slept with – Closet Monster, because they had sex in a closet, was one of the more memorable ones. Not Closet Girl, or girl-I-fucked-in-a-closet, both which would have been much much more respectable and less derogatory. Closet Monster. Monster!?! The names Jim Bob and Co. were choosing placed all of this undeserved shame on the girls they slept with, like they were some dirty, dishonorable creatures for choosing to have sex with the people now talking shit…I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Now let me clear the record: in college, my roommates and I came up with nicknames for the guys we slept with or wanted to sleep with. We did it because we went to a tiny, tiny college and if we wanted to talk about the guys we were crushing on without everyone on campus finding out, we had to do it in code. (Much like how I just changed my friend’s name to Jim Bob so I could bitch about him on the Internet.) So we had names like Roman God, for the dude who was so painfully beautiful he appeared to be from another time. Or Niney, because of his blessed endowment. Or Shakespeare Lit, because we met in—you guessed it—Shakespeare Lit. If a guy became a steady hook-up or a boyfriend, the nick names fell away and they simply became “Pete.”

In college, we never meant anything derogatory by nicknaming the guys, but after my half heart attack at Jim Bob, I could see how it could come off that way. While most of our nicknames were positive (Niney was a legend), and we never ever tacked on a word like “Monster” or referred to them as cold lunch meat jammed between two slices of bread, we were boiling down a human being into a nickname that barely begins to encompass their entire person. So I would like to take a moment to apologize to them all. Sorry Roman, Niney, Shakespeare, Snake Wrangler and Geometry Todd. I never meant to offend you, I just wanted to talk about you at brunch without being overheard by the entire Lacrosse team.

So, I lectured Jim Bob good and hard that day. The other female in the room did as well. Later, I grilled my boyfriend to see if he had derogatory nicknames for his former conquests. He swore no, but I was already drumming up nightmares of him sitting around with his old college roomies, hitting the bong and telling stories about Areola Alice. Okay that one isn’t very good, but I just can’t think of any more shameful names right now…

Do you make up nicknames for the people you’ve slept with? Did you used to? Do you think it’s okay as long as they aren’t shaming, belittling nicknames? Would you have been horrified if you overheard your friends talking like this?

Let’s all grow up and start calling the people we sleep with by their names. Like Beatrice. That’s a nice name, isn’t it?

Want more from Zoe? Find her on Instagram and Twitter.

For more Lusty Vegan, check out The Lusty Vegan book, available on Amazon.

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Rihanna may be controversial, but you can’t argue the fact that she embraces (and flaunts) her sexuality

By Sarah Mastroni

I have been a self-proclaimed wild child since the 7th grade when I first started looking at boys like that. I found myself open to the weird, wild and wonderful at a relatively young age. I credit my unrelenting urge for thrills to that, and the freedom I was granted by a household which had little rules to keep my eyes shut to the world as a maturing young lady.

But I knew my limits. I knew not to do any hard drugs or elope a day after I turned 18 years-old with the hunky 25 year-old I met at the mall. I guess this understanding came to me- with the help of meeting lots of different people. I went out with my friends, drank beer underage and got into a little trouble, but only enough to make me who I am today.

Here I am!

My name is Sarah Mastroni and I am a blogger over at SarahontheGo.com. Z is one of my dearest friends and I admire her passion for writing, but most notably, I love how bravely she takes on the topic of sex.

Sex is not easy to talk about. So many people get bent out of shape about it. I learned along the way that sex is wonderful. The nature of this topic in general is beautiful, whether you are getting all types of freaky-deaky on your lover or making passionate love, sex is the amazing ability to forget the crap that the world deals to us and enjoy raw ecstasy.

Z may be more used to the topic of sexuality, but I am going to try my hand at this sex-chatter with a brief list of…

“Things People Look Down on You For But Are So Totally Okay to Do.”

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by photostock

While talking to my friend, LG, recently, we stumbled on the topic of one night stands. I mentioned I hate them (okay maybe not hate, hate is for Hitler, my dad says…) and LG said “oh I don’t have one night stands. I’m all about the threepeat.”

The wah? LG went on to explain to me the inner workings of the threepeat—which apparently is originally some sports lingo but neither of us like sports so we didn’t get into it. LG’s threepeat involves sleeping with someone at least, you guessed it, three times. But there are rules and reasoning to this game!

The first is that you only have a threepeat with someone whose opinion you value. (I would like to think if you don’t value their opinion, you aren’t sleeping with them…I will assume that is what he meant.)

LG told me that he has found women often don’t get comfortable enough their first time sleeping with someone to thoroughly enjoy themselves. While he says this is most likely not true for all women, these are his findings. Additionally, a serial monogamist himself, LG often goes long stints without sex, so when he first sleeps with someone, he might be out of practice/over-excited and so he doesn’t exactly have his best game face on. Therefore, LG doesn’t like to leave em after the first time, for fear they aren’t satisfied because A they couldn’t get comfy or B he wasn’t up to par and/or they are going to go tell all of their friends (and his) that he sucked.

That is where the second round comes in. LG says he likes to land the second round within an hour or so after the first, after a nice session of pillow talk. This isn’t necessary but it’s what he prefers—if they leave unsatisfied they may not sleep with him again! During the second round LG likes to pull out all of his tricks (not sure what they are…) and make a good impression, make sure they’re totally satisfied and everyone is nice and sweaty and happy by the end.

THEN—and this is key!—he has to make sure at some point they go at it again. Why? Because if they have one round of good sex and one round of bad, the girl could assume that the good sex was a fluke and normally he is terrible. So, a third time is vital to ensure she understands he is phenomenal in the sack and no bad rumors will be spread. After that, he can continue sleeping with her if he likes her and whatnot but doesn’t feel compelled if he isn’t interested anymore. He usually does feel compelled, because he is a nice guy and, as I mentioned earlier, a serial monogamist.

I was very entertained by this whole thing, which LG has probably mulled over on his own and with buddies multiple times. I know girls come up with crazy schemes and rules about when they can sleep with people (not on the first date, not until the third date, not when drunk, only when drunk, etc, etc.) I didn’t realize guys thought the same. I guess I naïvely thought they were just happy to partake all the time, as the media portrays the male sex drive as a hyped-up golden retriever who won’t stop jumping on you/humping your leg/begging at the dinner table.

Any guys out there with crazy sex guidelines? I wanna know!

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