Random Sex Is Okay At a Party, But Not On a First Date (Huh?)

While hooking up in college doesn't happen as much as most people think, clearly, it does happen. But what's considered acceptable when it comes to sex might surprise you.

In a new study of nearly 300 college students, many said that it's totally fine and normal to have sex at a party (among the Solo cups and beer sludge) but not on a first date—even if the couple in question had previously had sex.

Sorry but, um, we're a little confused.  

According to the survey results, part of the reason why a random hookup at a frat house would be totally kosher but getting busy on a first date–with a guy whose last name you actually know—is not? Alcohol. Forty percent of respondents said that booze would be flowing in a party sitch but not so much on a first date—meaning, we assume, that you can use insobriety as an excuse for the party boning, thus making it easier to explain.

"Our findings suggest that different behavior by the exact same people is really based on the context or the situation...not necessarily just the person, who they are, their values or their desires," said study researcher Gretchen Webber of Middle Tennessee State University. "It really shows the dominance of the setting for directing people’s behavior."

Not surprisingly, some of the survey-takers said that first date sex would reflect poorly on those having it—particularly on women. Overall, the results seem to suggest that being on a date requires people to adopt more conservative behavior—especially us ladies—in order to not tarnish our good names. Which totally harks of outdated, old-timey (and, dare we say, sexist?) dating standards. 

It's pretty crazy-slash-sad that in 2013, it's considered acceptable to have loveless, meaningless sex that you can blame on being drunk, but getting busy with someone you might actually like, when you have all of wits about you, is cause for major judgment. Something just isn't right about that…

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Photo: Sony

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Cosmo's Daily Dish: James Franco Threw a Party For His Ex Ahna O'Reilly

Korin Miller
Korin is the site director for Cosmopolitan.com. She loves uncovering cool new research and learning more about what makes guys tick. Outside the Cosmo office, you can find her running with her dog, trying to convince friends to go to karaoke bars, and watching as much reality TV as humanly possible. Hit her up on Twitter: @korinmiller
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Michelle Ruiz
Michelle is the news editor for Cosmopolitan.com. She's obsessed with interviewing celebrities and spotting the latest pop culture trends. Her life highlights include chatting with Ryan Gosling about sex dolls, dancing on stage at the Oprah show, and shopping with her mom on Long Island. Tweet her: @michelleruiz
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Dara Adeeyo
Dara is the associate web editor for Cosmopolitan.com. She's intrigued by all things digital. Dara loves playing with html and discovering new studies. When she's not reading up on the latest cocktail recipes (for work, of course), she can be found breaking it down on the dance floor or watching the Investigative Discovery channel. She also has a sick obsession with nail polish, elephants, and most importantly, Nutella. Dara basically lives on Twitter, so tweet at her and say hey: @dadeeyo.
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Elisa Benson
Elisa Benson is the senior editor of social media for @Cosmopolitan?so, yes, she tweets about sex for a living. Elisa grew up in Ohio, attended Colgate University, and wrote love and relationship advice for Seventeen before graduating to Cosmo. She lives for girly things (weddings and eyelash extensions and Pretty Little Liars?) and frequently tweets about all of the above: @elisabenson.
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"I Had Angelina's Preventative Mastectomy—and a 'Goodbye to My Boobs' Party"

I recently learned that Angelina Jolie and I have something in common. Unfortunately, not her lips, high cheekbones or mysterious eyes—any of those would have been great! It was her boobs.

In 2009, at the age of 28, I tested positive for the breast cancer gene, BRCA1. In this case, positive actually means negative. This was not a huge surprise. I was only nine when my mother lost her battle to breast cancer at the all-too-young age of 42. Her older sister was also diagnosed with breast cancer years later; she fought and won, only to be hit with ovarian cancer in her 50’s, which ended her life. My now-healthy cousin was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 35. It was at that point that my family learned about genetic testing.

Despite my family history, I resisted taking the blood test for six years. At the time of my cousin's diagnosis, I was 23 and assumed I was invincible. I felt strongly that living with the knowledge of being predisposed to cancer would be like living under a dark cloud. But as the years passed I realized that living with the unknown felt like being stuck in a storm with no way out. If I had the gene, not taking the test wasn’t going to make it disappear, but finding out gave me an opportunity that the other women in my family didn’t have. I finally decided to confirm what I already knew deep down. Everyone has always told me I’m my mother’s daughter—and this was no exception.

If you’re diagnosed with the BRCA mutation, you can look at the situation two different ways: You can go with the “poor me” attitude, and I’ve definitely had moments, no hours… okay, actually weeks where I felt very sorry for myself. It’s really hard to learn what you’re genetically predisposed to. But overall I feel blessed. I had the rare opportunity to fight back before the cancer could even begin; to give cancer the big double finger. If my mother would have had this opportunity, I know she’d still be alive.

I took the test knowing if I had the gene, my boobs would have to go. I’d seen firsthand how harsh the treatment of cancer can be on everyone involved and I wanted none of that for my family, including my amazing husband, Rob. I’d also done research and learned that if you’ve got one of the two BRCA mutations, even if you catch the cancer early, they pretty much throw the book at you. The mutation actually inhibits your body from fighting off cancer in that area so the treatment prescribed will be extra aggressive. Sometimes your body will even build up immunity to chemotherapy. With all of this considered, the decision was easy. At the age of 31, I underwent a preventative double mastectomy.

The difficult questions were: Which procedure should I go with? How do I want my breasts reconstructed? Which doctor to choose? Will I keep the nipples? Those questions kept me up at night. Because if you’re going to lose something you love (I had great real boobs by the way—the perfect handfuls big enough to show some cleavage but small enough to stay perky without a bra), you want to replace them with something fabulous. And reconstruction is not like an ordinary boob job; it’s much more complicated.

Implants typically go under soft and squishy breast tissue. In my case, the doctors would remove that tissue, so in certain positions or if I’m dehydrated, there can be some rippling. I was lucky enough to stumble across an amazing group of women who had been in my shoes and paved the way. One of them even met me in a Starbucks where we not so discreetly ducked into the women’s bathroom so she could show me her new, reconstructed boobs. This helped me to realize that the results could be pretty great.

Leading up to my double mastectomy, I wanted to document what I was born with. So, yes, I had a boudoir photo shoot. Ladies, everyone should do this regardless of the breast cancer gene. Let’s capture these young sexy bodies while we can! I’d planned three different outfit changes, but my favorites ended up being just me in sexy underwear. The only thing not fun about the entire experience was my photographer turned on the air conditioning in February (I live in Seattle). We had to make sure the girls looked their best for their first and final debut. I’m so glad I did this. I now have something I will be able to look back on forever that will remind me of what the real ones looked like.

Here I am getting ready for battle at one of the more clothed shots from my boudoir session with photographer Sara Tro.

The Saturday night before my big surgery, five of my closest girlfriends got together and threw a final farewell to my breasts at a bar in Seattle. It was a world class “Ta Ta to the Tatas” cocktail party. Our signature drink was a special “Ta-Ta-tini” complete with two boob-resembling olives. A local food truck called The Box made an appearance. There also was an extremely lifelike boob cake, which was awesome.

A friend who is a designer even made me a logo that was printed on bra-shaped cookies.

It was strongly suggested to all the women to dig into that section of their closet that is labeled “Vegas only” and show as much cleavage as possible. It was a celebration of boobs! I’ll look back on that night for years to come as a powerful kickoff. It was a night surrounded by so many important people from all stages of my life. It gave me the strength and courage to take my health into my own hands and reclaim some control for the women in my family. The best part of the night was that my friends rallied together to donate money to this cause—we raised over $7,000 for cancer research.

Rob and I slicing my boob cake...

Then came surgery, which was not fun, but honestly, it wasn’t as bad as the horror stories I'd read online (don’t do that). From what I’ve been told, I came out of the operation room giving my husband high fives and telling my sister that the morphine button was like an On-Demand orgasm. The pain was pretty strong the first 48 hours, but there are drugs for that. My poor husband had to pull my undies down for me so I could go to the bathroom because I couldn’t move my arms. I guess this is where the “in sickness and in health” wedding vow comes in. I’m pretty sure, however, he thought he’d escaped this by marrying a woman who was eight years younger. (Kudos to my husband Rob for his incredible support!) My doctors recommend that I take four weeks off work. This recommendation was a bit extreme. I’m proud to say that on my four-week anniversary, I went for a six mile (very uphill) hike.

What became of my once-perfect natural boobs? With implant reconstruction, you don’t get to choose your size. Once I was fully expanded, my doctor ordered five (yes five!) different size implants for me. While I was under, she test-drove them all. As in, she literally put the boobs inside, sat me up like a puppet to see how they looked, and chose one. Even though I begged and pleaded with her to go with the smallest size, I ended up with the second largest. They apparently looked the best and had the least amount of rippling.  I chose to keep my nipples. This does give me a slightly higher chance of getting cancer but having something that feels like me was totally worth the 1 percent escalated risk. I have to admit, they look pretty good!

I never wanted fake boobs, but now I'm learning to live with them. Because there’s nothing between my skin and the implants, at times (especially under bright lights) you can see the actual movement of the silicon. My therapist advised not to stand under bright lights when inspecting my breasts in the mirror. Probably a good idea. I do have tissue from a cadaver on the bottom part of my breasts. Cadaver tissue = tissue from a dead person. Kind of creepy but science fascinates me, so I’m actually okay with it. I also have lost all sensation on both breasts, including my nipples. This part is proving to be the most difficult to get used to. I can feel pressure but nothing else. Strangely enough, they still act the same in cold weather or when I’m aroused. The worst part about the whole sensation thing is I get phantom itches. I’ll get the itch, but I can only scratch it mentally. Also, I just realized a few months ago that the implants never warm up to my body temperature. I guess that makes sense considering there’s no breast tissue to warm it up.

It’s been a year of ups and downs since I said goodbye to my breasts, as I've written about on my blog, Ta Ta to Tatas. Early on in this process, a great friend and mentor told me this whole experience would be “a mountain like no other, a climb like no other.” What I know now is that it’s proving to be “ a view like no other,” too. I will never again have to get a mammogram. Mammograms weren’t that bad, just sort of annoying. I get way more head turns in a cocktail dress or bikini then ever! My husband loved my old body but I think he’s pretty fond of this new one as well. Bras will forever be optional! Most importantly, I’m on my way to never worrying about cancer again. Like Angelina, I’ve taken my chances of getting breast cancer from 87 percent down to 5 pecent. I plan on starting a family soon and before now, my biggest fear was being diagnosed while I was pregnant. I’m only three years younger then my cousin was when she found out she had breast cancer. I do plan on getting my ovaries out once I’m done having kids, but that’s a whole different topic. I had 31 years with my old body and loved it. I’m still on year one with this new one. I don’t love it yet—but I’m confident I’ll get there.

Photo Credit: Lisa Loop; Sara Tro

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Keep Your Penis Away from My Bachelorette Party, Man

While the standard bachelorette party typically includes dressing up, going out, enjoying some penis swag, and doing silly dares, these festivities can come in all forms. Some chicks opt for wine tasting; others might take in a male strip show.

One thing most of these celebrations all have in common? No boys—err, grooms, at least—allowed.

However, this wasn't the case for American Idol alums Diana DeGarmo and Ace Young, who are getting hitched this year. Diana had her bachelorette in Vegas and while watching the legendary Chippendales perform, none other than her fiancé joined the ranks of gyrating men on stage.

Luckily, Diana wasn't annoyed that her man crashed her girls' weekend. (In fact, she told People, "I am so beyond lucky to have my best friend always keeping me on my toes no matter where we are.")

I'm glad Diana was down with the surprise, but as a gal planning to have my own bachelorette bash in the next year, I have some conflicting thoughts about this whole sitch:

#1: I don't know if I would want my guy to bust in on my time with the girls. Obviously, I love him and I always miss him like crazy when we're apart. But, I dunno, I feel like it's important to give each other space to hang with your pals, especially during a bachelorette weekend.

#2: But there is something to said about finding out that your guy's got Channing Tatum-caliber moves plus the confidence to get up on stage and shake it with a bunch of pros. So, I can't help but also think that this kind of surprise has the potential to be kinda hot.

#3: Though, on the other hand, my guy has never done a striptease for me and, honestly, I'm not sure I'd want him to. I once watched an ex compete in an amateur drag queen contest among our male friends—don't ask—and while I know it's totally not the same thing as Magic Mike-ing it up, it kinda weirded me out. Once you see your man sporting bright blue eyeshadow—or jiggling his junk around—there's no going back.

Want more from Natasha? Follow her on Twitter or find her on Facebook.

Photo: Warner Bros

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Inside the Breast Cancer Research Foundation's Hot Pink Party

Kate Hudson, Elton John, and Matt Bellamy

If the event is called ¡Viva Fiesta! The Hot Pink Party, you can count on one thing: Girl, it is going to be cray.

The Breast Cancer Research Foundation brought the insanity—and the mariachi band!—to New York City's Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Wednesday, unloading a giant fiesta truck onto the grand ballroom for its annual fundraising bash. (Seriously, did someone tear open a blinking neon piñata full of rainbow-colored toys and paper flowers to decorate? Amazing.)

Vera Wang made an early arrival in a 98-percent pink and studded Roberto Cavalli couture party dress. It was her tribute to Evelyn Lauder, who died of breast cancer in 2011. "She's smiling down on me tonight," the designer said. "I know, because I only used to wear black to these things!"

Michael Kors greeted his old pal and "first wife," and the fashion friends mused about finding time to do it all. "Honestly, when you live a busy, crazy life, everything is about trying to have balance," Kors said. "I love what I do and I spend a lot of time and energy working, but have time for your friends! Have time for your family. Make time for yourself. You're going to be better at everything you do and be a happier person, hopefully."

One seriously happy person was Kors's date for the evening, model Constance Jablonski, who had been celebrating her 22nd birthday. She was working the color of the moment in a dress by MK, natch, but the glow on her cheeks was from the warm spring weather from the afternoon. "It was too beautiful outside today," Jablonski said, "so I had a couple of friends over and we sat up on the rooftop with a little rosé."

Something bubbly floated into the room in the form of Kate Hudson, who talked about feeling and doing good. "You gotta work from the inside out," she said. "Feeling good is something that comes from the inside, and with that comes doing good."

Hudson rushed off to chat with Sir Elton John. Her fiancé, Muse frontman Matt Bellamy, stood in the wings of the ballroom and observed the landscape. "What's going on here?" he asked, seemingly bemused by the twirling folklórico dancers. Bellamy was there to support his lady, but was also excited to see the night's special performance by John, who'd been a musical influence since Bellamy's childhood. 

Sir Elton, for his part, wore pink: hot pink shirt, hot pink glasses, black jacket with hot pink sparkles on the shoulders and shirt sleeves. (Does. Not. Give. A. Damn. What. You. Think.)

Party emcee Elizabeth Hurley introduced the singer after urging attendees to donate to a cause that she's been supporting for the past two decades. Sitting at the piano, surrounded by fake palm trees and a giant cutout of a full moon, John began to play the opening notes to "Tiny Dancer." It was Evelyn's song, he said, hardly even looking at the keys. And all the phones in the room went up at once to capture the moment.  

Elizabeth Hurley and Kate Hudson

Vera Wang

Constance Jablonski and Michael Kors

Photo: Getty Images

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Study: Being a Party Girl in College Totally Affects Your Future

Korin Miller
Korin is the site director for Cosmopolitan.com. She loves uncovering cool new research and learning more about what makes guys tick. Outside the Cosmo office, you can find her running with her dog, trying to convince friends to go to karaoke bars, and watching as much reality TV as humanly possible. Hit her up on Twitter: @korinmiller
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Michelle Ruiz
Michelle is the news editor for Cosmopolitan.com. She's obsessed with interviewing celebrities and spotting the latest pop culture trends. Her life highlights include chatting with Ryan Gosling about sex dolls, dancing on stage at the Oprah show, and shopping with her mom on Long Island. Tweet her: @michelleruiz
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Dara Adeeyo
Dara is the associate web editor for Cosmopolitan.com. She's intrigued by all things digital. Dara loves playing with html and discovering new studies. When she's not reading up on the latest cocktail recipes (for work, of course), she can be found breaking it down on the dance floor or watching the Investigative Discovery channel. She also has a sick obsession with nail polish, elephants, and most importantly, Nutella. Dara basically lives on Twitter, so tweet at her and say hey: @dadeeyo.
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Elisa Benson
Elisa Benson is the senior editor of social media for @Cosmopolitan?so, yes, she tweets about sex for a living. Elisa grew up in Ohio, attended Colgate University, and wrote love and relationship advice for Seventeen before graduating to Cosmo. She lives for girly things (weddings and eyelash extensions and Pretty Little Liars?) and frequently tweets about all of the above: @elisabenson.
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Cosmo's Daily Dish: Adele to Sing at Michelle Obama's Birthday Party

Korin Miller
Korin is the site director for Cosmopolitan.com. She loves uncovering cool new research and learning more about what makes guys tick. Outside the Cosmo office, you can find her running with her dog, trying to convince friends to go to karaoke bars, and watching as much reality TV as humanly possible. Hit her up on Twitter: @korinmiller
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Michelle Ruiz
Michelle is the news editor for Cosmopolitan.com. She's obsessed with interviewing celebrities and spotting the latest pop culture trends. Her life highlights include chatting with Ryan Gosling about sex dolls, dancing on stage at the Oprah show, and shopping with her mom on Long Island. Tweet her: @michelleruiz
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Dara Adeeyo
Dara is the associate web editor for Cosmopolitan.com. She's intrigued by all things digital. Dara loves playing with html and discovering new studies. When she's not reading up on the latest cocktail recipes (for work, of course), she can be found breaking it down on the dance floor or watching the Investigative Discovery channel. She also has a sick obsession with nail polish, elephants, and most importantly, Nutella. Dara basically lives on Twitter, so tweet at her and say hey: @dadeeyo.
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Elisa Benson
Elisa Benson is the senior editor of social media for @Cosmopolitan?so, yes, she tweets about sex for a living. Elisa grew up in Ohio, attended Colgate University, and wrote love and relationship advice for Seventeen before graduating to Cosmo. She lives for girly things (weddings and eyelash extensions and Pretty Little Liars?) and frequently tweets about all of the above: @elisabenson.
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From the Catwalk to Your Halloween Party

Take a cue from this model at Vivienne Westwood. Her imperfect white makeup, updo, crown, and ghostly puff-sleeved gown lend a fresh (yet corpse-like) twist on the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland.

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Divorce Party for One, Please

Nina was adamant about throwing me a “divorce party,” which is apparently how celebs celebrate the end of their fourth marriages.

“But I’m not getting divorced,” I said.

“Breakup party, divorce party, it’s the same,” she insisted.

“How do you even know this is a thing?” I asked.

“Us Weekly.” She was digging through her suitcase on my floor. “A-ha!” She said, and held out a backless top triumphantly. “You are wearing this tonight.”

“My boobs will be in my lap.”

“Oh I have tape for that.”

Nina had found an apartment, but her lease didn’t start for another three weeks. I invited her to stay with me in the meantime. It really couldn't have worked out better—I needed someone to force me to put down the peanut butter, turn off the Say Yes to the Dress marathon, and wash my hair.

I stuck my chest out. “Is it like industrial-strength or something?”

“I’ll double-bag you,” she promised.

An hour later, we were actually inside one of those velvet-rope clubs in that I usually avoid like leggings. Nina, naturally, knew everyone, and waltzed us right past the snotty doorman. We were at least eight girls deep—a mash up of friends from college, work, plus me, Ashley, and Nina—and two of them volunteered to take drink orders while the rest of us waited.

“Want to go to the bathroom?” Ashley asked me.

I wanted to make sure my boob wasn’t hanging out, so I nodded.

We snaked our way through the crowd and into the back of the room. The bathroom was a single stall and was occupied (of course), so we leaned up against the wall and waited. And waited. And waited.

“What the hell is that person doing in there?” Ashley groaned, crossing her legs and doing the little kid pee dance.

I jiggled the handle to make sure it was actually occupied and we weren’t just standing there for nothing.

“One second!” A voice called from inside.

Another five minutes passed. The big vein in my forehead threatened to pop.

“I am going to pee on the floor,” Ashley moaned.

“Should I just pound?”

“Yes!” Ashley pleaded.

I pushed myself off the wall and rapped on the door…loudly. Giggling, shuffling, and finally the door swung open.

“Josie!” Two woman stood on the other side. One of them was Elizabeth. E-freaking-lizabeth.

“Oh, hi,” I said. “Sorry, it’s just that you were…”

“I know, I’m sorry!” She swiped her hand across her nose. “Bad sushi.”

Bad sushi my ass. The woman’s eyes were bugging out of her head. She was more tweaked out than Charlie Sheen.

“I really need to use the bathroom,” Ashley said.

“Of course!” Elizabeth and her friend moved out of the way. I started to follow Ashley, but Elizabeth touched my arm.

“I just want to say I’m sorry about you and Peter,” she said.

“That’s really not”—

“You are obviously a great girl, but Peter and I are just in a more compatible place in life right now.”

I was too shocked to say anything.

“You are so young. God, when I was your age I was fucking bartenders, bankers, actors, married guys. Live it up!” With that, she leaned in, gave me a peck on the cheek, and then skipped off.

I turned to Ashley in what felt like slow motion. “What the…”

Ashley grabbed my arm and pulled me inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She dropped trough and squatted over the toilet.

“Did she say what I thought she said?” Ashley asked over the sound of the waterfall that was trickling out of her.

“That her and Peter are in a more compatible place in life right now? Yes!”

“Bitch.”

“What does that mean? Are they together?” I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was flushed.

“She’s crazy. She could just be saying that to piss you off.”

“But we broke up three days ago! She’s obviously in close contact with him if she knows that.” My mind was spinning. “Do you think he was seeing her while he was seeing me?”

“It kind of sounds like it.” Ashley straightened and walked over to the sink.

“Asshole.” I pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing?” Ashley asked.

“I need to know!”

Ashley swiped the phone out of my hand. “Don’t. You’re drunk, it’s late. Let’s figure it out tomorrow.”

I was simmering, but I knew Ashley was right. “Fine,” I held out my hand for my phone.

“Na-uh.” Ashley shook her head. “I’m holding onto this just in case.”

Do you think Elizabeth is just messing with me because she’s certifiable? Or do you think Peter and her are back together and have been since before we broke up?

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