By Karen Turner

Like most of America’s youth, I received most of my sex and dating education not from the abstinence-based curricula of my public school but from T.V. and movies. My parents tried to shield me from the influence of the media through a strict-ish no-T.V. rule throughout my childhood, but once I hit the tween years, the pull of romantic young adult shows like Gilmore Girls and One Tree Hill was too strong to resist. Hundreds of romantic comedies and teen-drama shows later, here are the lessons in sex and love that I pulled from this media:

photo courtesy of tvfanatic.om

1. You will meet your next romantic interest in some adorably witty manner in some unexpected setting. Perhaps you’ll be reading Kurt Vonnegut at the bookstore and some attractive boy will approach you about your excellent novel choice (I confess to staking out in the Barnes and Noble, propping up my copy of blankblank to reveal the cover, and waiting for magic to happen.) Of course, in the real world, boyfriends and girlfriends are usually introduced in school, at extracurricular activities, through mutual friends…pathetically unglamorous.

2. Your first time will be magical and perfect. In truth, it’s always awkward and confusing and everybody wishes there was an instructional video.

3. Love will suddenly make you eloquent as hell. All movies and TV shows always feature hyper-articulate characters that seem to take to rhetoric skills when bolstered by love, not unlike the kind of brute strength fostered by an adrenaline rush. These lovers can always say exactly what they want, express precisely how they feel, even after a long chase in an airport that ends with some kind of “You complete me” brilliance. The reality of love is that it usually destroys your ability to string words together, especially in the midst of fights or revelations. The movies never taught me that perhaps the greatest challenge in every romantic encounter is the ability to communicate oneself accurately.

4. Girls will orgasm instantly during sex. This is such crap. It’s also shocking how few titles deviate from this media lie.

by Karen Turner

Eric is on the left and Bill is on the right.

I know this kind of rant is usually reserved for message boards and obsessive fan forums and the like, but I feel like I must speak about this important issue.

Like many others, I’m completely obsessed with HBO’s True Blood, which, for anyone who’s been living under a rock, is essentially the very campy, very R-rated version of Twilight. And, like many others, I have strong opinions about the romantic life of heroine Sookie Stackhouse. Sookie’s a telepathic waitress who has vampires vying for her affection. But only two competitors really stand a chance: Bill, her first love, and Eric, an ancient, powerful vampire with a peculiar interest in Sookie. Bill is noble, gentlemanly, and very kind. Eric is selfish, cold, and, at an alarming 6′5″, very huge and scary. To break it down, Bill: nice guy. Eric: Bad boy.

And who do all of my friends root for? Who’s clearly the fan favorite? Who stars in all the smutty fanfiction on the internet? Eric, of course. “If Eric and Sookie don’t get together next season, I’m seriously gonna kill the producers,” said one of my friends, “and if they have sex, I don’t want it to be movie sex, like, I want to see peen in vaj.” In my quest to find Eric/Sookie “shippers,” I found tons of online material, including a web page run by someone who actually purchased the domain name “ericandsookie.com.” Yet when I typed “Bill/Sookie” into my Google search bar, all I found was some crappy fanpop website and a bunch of links to Eric/Sookie sites and articles. Based on this scientific research, I can only conclude that there is, like, close to nobody out there who supports Bill.

Except for me. I am a Bill/Sookie shipper, a recent convert. I too used to swoon at the handsome Swede in leather (Eric), drawn to his confidence and borderline sadistic antics. And it was okay to like him, despite the fact that he terrorizes and eats people, because he’s a vampire. It’s in his nature to be bad. All the fangirls can openly admit to wanting the jerk because, well, he’s some otherworldly creature that doesn’t actually exist.

But then there’s a vampire like Bill on the show too–a nice guy who rejects his evil vampiric identity (sidenote: the word “vampiric” does not register as a spelling error in Word) and *shocker* doesn’t want to be a total asshole. He’s vegetarian, subsisting off of synthesized blood product, and is faithful to his human girlfriend Sookie. Bill truly loves her; meanwhile, Eric’s interest in her most likely stems from a selfish interest in her telepathic powers (i.e., he’s just not that into you). While Eric joyfully goes around killing people, Bill respects humanity. And while Eric scoffs at monogamy, Bill embraces it, at least as best as he can for a vampire. When it comes down to it, Bill is the one who actually mans up and tries to be a good person.

But he gets no respect, both on the show and among the fans, perfectly illustrating society’s obsession with cold-hearted assholes. Women love that shit. Men aspire towards it. And the guys who are trying to just be good, nice people get left in the dust.

Now that I’ve sufficiently embarrassed myself with geekiness, I think I’ll go now.

Image Source: msnbc.com

by Karen Turner

I would greatly enjoy it if Leonardo DiCaprio, who plays a dream-invading con man in "Inception," "took advantage of me" in one of my dreams.

I admit it–in my dreams, I am a total slut. Not in the sense that I aspire to be one, but just that, when I’m dreaming at night, I seriously get around. I have a “remembered” sex dream probably once a week on average, the kind where I wake up and can recall specific details. And on an even more frequent basis, I wake up in the morning and have that foggy yet nagging feeling that I’ve just done the nasty in my dream-life. The memory will often hit me when I run into some friend or acquaintance and think, wait a second, I feel like I’ve had sex with you, although I’m positive we haven’t?

It’s a strange sensation, especially since I often don’t want to bang any of the people who my dream-self seems to have no qualms about. Seriously, I have sex dreams about everybody. If I’ve met you/know you/have just seen you somewhere, I’ve probably dreamt about sleeping with you. I’m heterosexual, but I’ve had intense lesbian experiences while asleep, as well as multiple-partner liaisons. Sometimes, the dreams are explicit and technical, sometimes they are romantically lit and never seem to venture below the waist, like a scene in a PG-13 movie. Most of the time, the dream is third-person, and I watch my slutty dreamer alter-ego go at it with whoever as a casual observer.

And all I really can do is be a casual observer; my dream-self doesn’t seem to give two hoots about what I think, and, as a result, I can’t help but feel disassociated. I don’t really feel like we’re the same person, this dream version of me and the me that gets to wake up, particularly when it comes to sexual partners. While I’m a little more picky, she’s always, how should I put it…DTF. It’s certainly different, but I’m glad she’s around.  Maybe she’s there to express my repressed desires (although I certainly doubt it), I don’t really care. She has fun while I’m asleep. I watch in interest, pleasure, and complete horror, and then I wake up and it’s like it didn’t even happen. Which it didn’t.

She’s the perfect alter-ego.

Image source: backseatcuddler.com