Everyone is doing it; there’s no use skirting around the issue. Of course, I’m talking about the only “it” worth talking about; sex. Although I think the media (especially in Hollywood) grossly overestimates how much sex is happening in college, there’s still a lot of it. And why not? We’re not in the 1940’s anymore; kids should be allowed to enjoy themselves.

The abstinence movement has failed miserably. Whenever I drive on 83 now, I see that sign that says “Sex can wait, your future can’t,” and I just laugh. Okay, Grandma, I think it’s past your bedtime.

I guess one thing about sex that sucks is buying condoms. I know in my head that it shouldn’t be embarrassing because it’s a common thing and no one really cares, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking all sorts of crazy thoughts every time I have to do it.

For instance, every single time I buy condoms, the checkout line is always 40 people long with some old woman holding things up by trying to use three year old coupons. Then I’m standing there for 20 minutes in the middle of a crowd just holding them; half trying to conceal them so that maybe people will just think its a disposable camera. I also have this ridiculous notion that I can’t buy JUST condoms. I always feel like I have to buy something else, as if the cashier will somehow get sidetracked and I can slip them through unnoticed. Usually the only other thing I can think of to buy is a Snickers or something. Condoms and a Snickers bar, because who doesn’t enjoy a post-coital snack?

Another absurd idea I have is that the cashier is going to judge me based on what type of condom I’m buying. I feel as though I’ll be pigeonholed as a freak if I buy anything other than your standard lubricated Trojan.

Sometimes the condoms are behind the counter, and when that’s the case I immediately throw in the towel. I’ll be damned if I’m going to ask a 63 year old woman to hand me “the big box of ultra-ribbed.” I’d rather just have a kid.

I like to be able to take my time and select the ones I want. Usually they are at the end of an aisle in the back of the store, which is pretty ideal. The only exception is when there is someone shopping for yeast infection cream two feet down from the condom section, and they are reeeeeeally taking their time. I can only do so many pointless laps around the store before I start getting impatient. Usually I just give up and go for it, realizing that the other person is probably just as embarrassed and uncomfortable as I am.

Despite all of the nonsense that runs through my head, I suck it up and buy them just like everyone else. The only other alternative is to use the old ones I have laying around. I still have condoms in my room that I bought in high school, but at this point using them would probably be a bad idea. The funny thing about that is that they have roughly the same shelf life as Twinkies, which is forever. From the day you buy them, you have about four or five years to use them. When you’re pushing the expiration date on condoms, that’s how you know you really need to get laid.

Recently I’ve been fascinated by how Facebook has been owning MySpace in every way. It used to be a pretty tight race, but now I’m pretty sure the people that run MySpace have given up on life. You can say what you want about Facebook, but at the end of the day they are making changes and improvements, and no matter what you say I know you are checking it constantly. MySpace is the same as it was five years ago. Facebook is green fields and fresh meadows. MySpace is a desolate wasteland covered in scum.

You might not agree with me, and that’s fine. But the one thing you can’t deny is that a large percentage of MySpace profiles don’t belong to real people. Like… a really large percentage. I’m not a huge user, and my profile is pretty bare-bones, but I still get about a friend request every two days or so. I can’t remember the last time one of them was legit.

At first they were all the same, back in the primitive early days of the webcam girl profile. Gorgeous girls in skimpy clothes with stripper names like “CrYStal<3″. A few pictures to get you enticed, and usually a flirty paragraph that helped you “get to know” the girl. Then once you were roped in, you stumbled onto the link to “see the webcam.” I would get these every once in a while.

Not anymore. That is the old way of doing things. The mom and pop way. We live in a Wal-Mart world. Quantity over quality, mass marketing. Now the webcam girls are all I ever see on MySpace… but these aren’t you grandpa’s webcam girls. The profiles have been stripped down to the essentials. They get right down to business. No pictures, no flirty paragraph, just a sentence and a link. “MySpace made me take my pictures down. See them HERE.” And the Crystal<3 we came to know and love doesn’t exist anymore. Her and her hot friends have been replaced by Average Jane’s. When you see these friend requests, you’re duped into thinking that it’s a real person because there’s no cleavage and no whale-tail.

Today I got such a friend request… and I was completely blown away. I was SURE it wasn’t going to be a webcam girl because the girl in the picture was, well, ugly. She was huge and pimply and greasy and her name was Hulda. I swear to God. Yet her profile looked just like so many I had seen before. Sorry, Hulda, but I don’t want to see any pictures of you here or anywhere. How is that good marketing?

This got me thinking, though, that they must be stealing profile pictures and screen names from unsuspecting MySpace users en mass and copying them over to a skeleton profile. Pretty clever. But then THAT got me thinking… what if, somewhere, somehow, I have my own webcam guy profile??? And THAT got me thinking, “On second thought, that is pretty good marketing.”