I'm convinced Halloween was created for the sole purpose of getting boned. No other holiday compares. When mischief and moonlight abound, someone is going to get laid. Throw in a chintzy costume, garish makeup and orange beer, and you're done for.
The Avenue | Sex
Let me introduce myself. I'm Stephanie, and I'm a fag hag. But let me make a few things clear before your mind conjures up the image of that outspoken MAC makeup artist who so perfectly embodies the stereotype of the textbook fruit fly. I'm not a pudgy hanger-on, and my self-esteem is nowhere near lacking. I don't cling to gay men because otherwise, I'd never get within three feet of a penis. I'm definitely not the kind of girl who thinks that she alone can turn any Britney-squealing, homosexual man into a burly football fanatic. I don't brandish my gay friends like accessories, nor do I harbor any "Sex and the City" fantasies of being a cosmopolitan surrounded by sophisticated sodomites. Somehow, I just always found myself surrounded by gay guys and never thought much of it until everybody started asking me why.
It's mid-August, and the bells of Century Tower - maybe a few e-bill notifications, also - are beckoning you to UF, a sultry and sticky swamp where you become an under-financed, oversexed version of your at-home self.
June 20 marks the first day of summer. In Gainesville, where winter means a long-sleeved shirt and closed-toe shoes, summer is the time you have to lounge by the pool, shoot hoops or play volleyball to attract the attention of potential mates.
Relationships are as common as double-headed love bugs in March. You've established a relationship with everyone you've ever met - from your professors and peers to the Chick-Fil-A guy who knows your order before you even reach the register.
Hi, my name is Annie. I am a sexual enthusiast, contemporarily known as a freak. I am a free spirit whose life philosophy fits better with the hippies in the '60s than those of my generation; I love everybody but not anybody. I come with standards and morals.