Love and Sex Issue II by MUSE Magazine

LETTER FROM THE

EDITOR This issue is our second-ever edition of the Love and Sex Zine, a digital collection of the ruminations of the MUSE community on love, sex, romance, relationships, family, friendship, and everything in between. This zine was born out of the long-standing Love and Sex Week at MUSE Online, which, in the same vein as all MUSE projects, encouraged our contributors to think outside the (heart-shaped) box. For years, we have published articles in February that shared raw stories of heartbreak and new, unique takes on what it means to be “loved”. Creating a digital zine full of these stories now allows us to present to you a love letter from MUSE, one that is ripe with stories that raise new questions about love. Our editorials, articles, and poems are all unique in their musings on love: from the love manifested in sharing a meal to the way self-love intertwines with our romantic relationships, to the heart-bursting and warm love existing between roommates. Alongside these love-filled words, we have pieces that touch on the taboo; exploring 2

the pressures of virginity and insight gained from this “loss” and detailing the intimacy formed through complicated and vague relationships. This zine has horoscopes and advice from us to you, our dear MUSE readers, hoping that you can have some fun this February in the mysticism and optimism often forgotten when facing matters of love. Full of sentiment, honesty, and even a few laughs, MUSE has made this digital zine as an expression of the love we experience every day in all forms. This Valentine’s Day, I hope you can relate to the pieces in this article, and I hope you are encouraged to take your love, in all its shapes and ways of being, and turn it into art — as we have discovered, the two are inextricably intertwined and lead to the best of storytelling. With lots of love, Liz Gonzalez Editor in Chief 2023-2024

Table of Love and Sex Horoscopes

Contents 4

Sea Legs

Sadie Williams

Katarina Bojic It’s a Cruel Summer Without You

Weight of Words

Prabjot Chohan

Dalyah Schiarizza A Love Letter to my Queer Friends

Aaliyah Mansuri

Katarina Bojic Submerge

Great (S)Expectations

Pem

Dalyah Schiarizza

Emma Monti Eff like a Man

Alisa Bressler Hate the Player, not the Game

Harvey Tolentino Doniego

Katarina Bojic 20

On the Sun, the Moon, and Love

Alisa Bressler Love by Another Name

Love and Sex Advice

Ben Linton 22

Romance is Alive

Catherine Parke 3

LOVE and SEX

AQUARIUS

TAURUS

This is your season, Aquarius! This Valentine’s Day consider celebrating yourself and all of the people you love most. Maybe that means booking bottle service at Trin, or watching a movie with your roommates. Love comes to you in abundance and in unexpected forms. Approach the season with optimism.

Your reliability is admirable and we should all be taking notes. But don’t let others take advantage of it! Especially the ones who are coming in and out of your life because they feel comfortable coming to you. This Valentine’s Day, deviate from your type and you will be rewarded!

PISCES

GEMINI

Heartbreak sucks. Heartbreak during Valentine’s Day sucks even more. It seems like you can not get over someone, but at this point it is inhibiting you from meeting someone new. This next person is going to spend all of the quality time you have been begging for, and speak not only words of affirmations, but speeches of affirmations. Quality touch has never felt so good!

You are such a flirt! But don’t let your flirtiness get in the way of a deeper connection. A roster is a good idea to have on hand at times, but it can feel just as good to form a deeper connection with someone and let them genuinely know you. For once, let your guard down and the adventure will be worth the while.

ARIES

CANCER

Often confused for being an air sign instead of your true fire sign status, you are passionate! When you want someone, you only want them. Sometimes, that person has no idea you want them. Don’t let that spark burn you down and use your fire and make your love for others known! In a world of dating apps, romantic gestures go further. Get out there and go get them tiger!

Do not think that just because you have not met anyone yet, you never will. You’re not going to meet the love of your life at Stages. Instead, try the isles of the thrift store when complimenting someone on their Doc Martens. You’re more likely to meet someone special in a place where your kindness shines and infects the people

LEO

SCORPIO

It is often misunderstood that self-love comes naturally to you. Those close to you secretly know you are a softie. Since Valentine’s Day can make you feel like you need to feel ok being alone, you should instead embrace sugar, spice, and everything nice. Stay in with your friends who love you as much as that guy who ghosted you because he did not know what he had when he had it.

Don’t wait for them to text you. There is someone great out there who gave up on asking you to hang out because you said “I’m busy” one too many times. They are currently reading the MUSE Love & Sex issue thinking about you ghosting them and desperately waiting to see your name pop up on their phone.

VIRGO You need to believe me when I tell you everyone wants you and I wish I knew what you did to make it happen. Is it your goofy smile? Or your effortless ability to play everyone’s favorite songs on the guitar. This season, embrace the affection but this is a warning to not let it get to your head! Stay humble.

LIBRA You heard it here first, Libra’s are the new spokesperson for hot girl summer! Since there are a few more months until we get there, this is prime time for preparation! Clear the roster, now we are thinking in terms of what is good for the plot. Bonus points for each time you take the opportunity to be shamelessly impulsive.

SAGITTARIUS On behalf of everyone, do not change a single thing you are doing. We appreciate your ability to make every night out with friends a night to remember! With a flair for drama, keep sending those late night texts. Hell, why not even call them? There’s no one like you.

CAPRICORN You’ve always had your priorities Capricorn, but it feels like you love life is an exception. I’m not saying you need to go on Love Island! But think about how much further your relationships can go by liking your crush’s Instagram story instead of their LinkedIn update. I dare you to go out for coffee this month that isn’t a coffee chat. 5

It s a Cruel Summer Without You Nothing feels as good as a summer flingI can\t outgrow. 6

It’s time to go home for the break. You might be thinking about how annoying it is that you have to go back to hitting your vape in the privacy of your childhood bedroom. Or, how it feels so good to not have to fight over the laundry machine with five other roommates. Yet, the only thing on my mind is reuniting with my hometown hook-up. Tis the damn season, right? It’s within moments of walking into the front door of my home that I feel my phone vibrate with a text in my back pocket. Before looking, I already know what it is, “Hey!...”. No one at school can make me smile at my phone screen big enough that the gap between my 2 front teeth sneaks into view. Arrangements are made and before I know it I am on my way to reunite with [REDACTED]. Without fail, we have been sneaking around every summer since we were eighteen. He’s like a bookmark I keep in place of a novel so good I try to read and can’t bear to finish. Only to return and pick up from where I left off. This could go on forever. During the months at school leading up to May our texts are sparse. He’s a D1 athlete with a commitment to the game, and I feel like I need to be the cool girl who won’t bother him too much. Part of what kept this going on for so long is how we operate with the unspoken rule, “don’t ask, don’t tell.” No one else exists outside of what takes place during the scolding hot summer days and nights. When we get together, unfiltered conversations about stories we saved for each other light up the room. Coincidentally, it always ends the same way, “and then I went home,” alone I guess? He knows what it was like to be the first (and for all he knows, the only person)

to twist in bedsheets with me. After all this time, I choose to still be this naive. When I’m back at school, they’re out of sight and out of mind. Someone New will be buying me a drink at the crowded bar. In between small talk they might mention something that reminds me of [REDACTED]. It can be the same sport they play or a movie I watched with him. Someone New doesn’t know I am thinking “I wish it was them and not you.” I want to give it my all but I can’t help thinking about the unfinished chapter on my bookshelf, longing to be read. It gets harder every time the days get colder and I leave for school. I am grieving a love that hasn’t really died. Until Thanksgiving, the thought frequently crosses my mind: Are they thinking about me? What if I go home and he doesn’t text me? I hate to think about them with somebody else, so I’ll have to beat him to it. Well, if it’s been going this long, isn’t it a sign to give good ol’ fashion commitment a try? I am wrapping up my fourth year, and the “home” in “hometown hook-up” is going to change for me. It’s time to put the book down and admit this is the ending I am inevitably facing. Or, maybe I have to write a new chapter and tell him how I feel. That’s a conversation for next summer.

KatarinaBojic 7

DALYAH SCHIARIZZA

SUBMERGE 8

No one ends up out by the pool when a purple fog distorts the tangerine sun. The pink almond tip of my nail breaks figures into the water’s surface. Heart. Star. Infinity loop. Tornado. XOXO. Only one finger in sends shivers throughout my body, the kind that causes pangs in my heart and shards through my mind. I remain entirely and remorsefully aware of how you wait at the other end of this very pool. You float with a smile on your face, your hair with perfect curl and volume, arms ready to keep me afloat… or hold me underwater. Hold my head down until my eyes grow wide with fear, unable to move, lungs about to burst. Then if I’m stuck underwater, what if I can’t make my way to the surface again? What if I can’t bring myself to the surface and prepare myself to do this again? Then the touch of water would make me a woman of sticks, straw, and anything dry for the rest of my life. You never instilled this fear in my mind. You sat on the edge with me, where I remain, for so long. You pierced the water tracing rings, cake slices, and stick figures who hold hands. We spent so much time there together. Then you went ankles, knees, elbows, crown. Sploosh! Been underwater, came back up, smiling at me wider, and inviting me in. Piano fingers gesture, barotone rich, I promise, I’ve got you. Just like you always have. Your heart bursts with a gold that matches the tangerine sun, both I dream to bask in.

You’re you. So of course, you meet me at my end of the pool. Kneeling with your head just above the water’s surface. You offer your hand, and I accept. You hold my hand above the water’s surface and I keep my other hand above the water. Teamwork. The water reaches my hips, I fear I’ve gone too far. Though they are my legs, they look so different, feel so light. They’re susceptible to the water’s movements and no longer look straight. Your legs also are similar, a little crooked, too. Though you can still smile, feel easy, want to go deeper. You can open your eyes underwater and still smile at me the same way you do above. I want to do that, too. When my hands and chest, go under, I float with only my head and shoulders above the water. My body feels lighter, more willing to drift into your arms, even stay there. My hands feel and look odd, disconnected from myself. There is a lightness and heaviness with how I move. A newfound resistance if I felt ever so inclined to run. A slipperiness that makes running a little harder. I’d have to do so much to get my body back, I’m in deeper now. Too deep. All I have left to do is pull myself underwater and open my eyes. I know I’ll see things in a new way, not the way I’ve always known. I’ve never looked at you before with water between us, just air. Does the water make things clearer, murkier, or just different? Who am I to trust through this all? You, me, the water? Or are we all just sometimes

right? What if this new water vision reveals the apples you gave me to be filled with snakes? I’ll remember who I saw above the water, and I’ll wish to go back there. Just water snakes. If I don’t make it out, I’ll be broken, floating on the water’s surface, staring at everyone who could’ve warned me, who could never put me back together. Now, optimistically, my heart harmonizes with the purple fog and the tangerine sun. If I submerge, fully underwater, I’ll see you in a different light. I’ll now see your heart with a crown atop it, my heart will have a matching one. King of mine. Amidst the water’s movement, your smile will shine brighter, your words will mean more, and your touch will feel more sentimental. All I could’ve imagined, materializing at once. Best of all, you’re you, so it is feasible and tangible, which makes it all the more special. The fear is like no other, whatsoever. Here I stand before you, chin above the water, willing to give you my all. Whether I end up shattered on this surface, running away traumatized by the way this water takes charge of me, or perhaps existing in a new reality with new eyes where the purple fog surrounds us, the tangerine sun shines down on us, and we can simply exist in this pool, happily together—I want to know the ending. Is my fate here entirely my own, or yours, or depending on this water or an entity unbeknownst to us both? All of this, I need to know, so I fill my lungs with air. Go.

A Love Letter to my Queer Friends Emma Monti

In the queer community, we tend to speak extensively of romantic love. After all, our sexual orientation does determine who we are attracted to, a fundamental characteristic that tends to isolate us and serve as a significant point of stress and contention for some (present company included). But let us now speak of platonic queer love: the sense of connection we feel to our friends and chosen family, those who make us feel safe, understood, and unconditionally loved. This is exactly the way I feel about my queer friends. Regardless of when they met me, my friends have embraced every facet of my queerness as if it was as natural as breathing to them— whether it was in high school while I was deeply closeted, at the start of med school as I began to realize that being happy and embracing my sexuality were not mutually exclusive, or this past summer as we discovered what a beautiful gay life could look like together. Since meeting them, not once have I felt alone in this world that often feels as though it has little space for us. The softness and kindness they have shown me—their tight hugs at the end of a long day, their words of hopeful reassurance after my many failed coming out attempts—has translated into me being softer and kinder with myself. No matter how much time has passed since we last spoke, our conversations are warm and comforting, reassuring the 14-year-old ghost still haunting me that YES, there are other people JUST LIKE YOU and yes, they are REAL people you can have conversations with. As I would later discover, the experience of having queer friends and chosen family—the pure joy and sense of safety you feel when surrounded by your community—is an irreplaceable

feeling, something I craved so deeply and could only passionately dream of as I spent my adolescence wrestling with profound internalized homophobia. My queer friends continue to challenge my views of coming out, sex, family and relationships in the most beautiful way. While I was once unfalteringly bitter about the unprogressive views of my immigrant family, hearing the wise and optimistic experiences of my friends in similar situations has helped me temper my strong feelings, covering cracks of unhealed teenage angst with understanding and forgiveness towards my family; I am a better person for their presence in my life. To my queer friends, my chosen family: I feel so strongly that we will remain close and support each other throughout each season of our lives, seeing each other pursue the dreams we once talked about while lying on the floor together at 2 AM. I am so excited to see you have families of your own, attend your weddings, reunite on graduation trips, watch you live a life full of endless beauty. While we wait for time to pass, I wish you all the absolute best. I hope we continue to kiss on crowded dance floors, take long walks while talking about our futures, share our deepest and most liberating secrets, wander around the gay village in Toronto together and just marvel at the fact that the universe brought us together. I am so proud to call each and every one of you my friends. From the very depths of my soul, thank you. You have shown and taught me how to fall in love with the world and given me the courage to live a life I once thought to be impossibly out of reach; you have healed my inner closeted and secretly terrified self. It is a privilege to experience life with you. I love you so much.

Love

Love Letters Letters to MUSE to

MUSE

Today, casualness is the currency of intimacy. That’s right—I’ll exchange one “wyd” (uncapitalized, of course, written in a Snapchat photo featuring the left corner of someone’s eyebrow or, better yet, a black screen) for a night of pillow talk, fooling around, and closeness. Here, in the economy of hookup culture, you’ll find the best ‘bang for your buck’ (pun intended) if communications occur after 1AM, on a weekend, fueled by the right balance of dollar beers and tequila shots. Interest rates 18

may apply on brunch the next morning and forehead kisses. If the nature of sex today mirrors monetary transactions, let’s consider who typically dominates financial industries: cis-gender men. Those of us who have engaged in heterosexual, cis-gender relationships may see what I’m getting at here. Generally speaking, to properly engage in casual sex, women are expected to wait for

the men in their lives to decide when it’s time to smash. Women are not expected to have a roster, to play the field, to be as casual as men. Perhaps there’s some sense in this, as female hormones do, scientifically, make us more emotionally attached during sex. But this does not fully prohibit women from desiring casual sex, whether as a lifestyle, for a few weeks, or somewhere in between. And to those women, who perhaps wish they could be more Samantha Jonesesque in their sexual endeavours, I say: eff like a man. What does this mean? Let’s start with the act itself. Sexual intercourse came about solely for procreation, which relies on the male orgasm. Even as society has begun to understand that sex can just be for pleasure, intercourse still tends to end with male completion. Overall, male pleasure tends to be a given in sex, while female pleasure may be viewed as a ‘bonus’. While only a small number of women can orgasm from penetration alone, that does not mean the night should end before you get yours. Of course, this demands a lot of confidence, maybe even being a bit vocal about what you want, which, admittedly, can be intimidating. But taking agency in your sex life requires vocalization and advocating for the things you know about your body. Why shouldn’t both parties speak up when they know a different position would feel better, or when they want to experiment with something new? There’s work to be done to reclaim the narrative of women being in the driver’s seat of their sex lives outside the bedroom too. Earlier this year, I began chatting with an old situationship. He was curious what I’d been up to since we last saw each other, by which he meant, what’s your sex life been like? The conversation ended with him saying “Wow, I didn’t expect you to be such a player”. This sent me into panic and an immediate line of defense: me, a self-proclaimed romantic who’s sensitive to a fault and thrives on early-2000’s romcoms, a player? The word cut deep; it felt like he was labelling me as the opposite of

what society expects of a female romantic partner. Am I improper? Am I un-lady-like? I felt the need to prove to him that I was, in fact, a ‘nice girl’. But where’s the fun in that? What does it mean to play? In this context, it’s playing the field, testing the waters, seeing which people and opportunities are appealing to you, and maybe which will stick around. To play quite literally means pursuing an activity for recreation rather than for serious or practical purposes. The word invites whimsy and ignores pressure. Of course, it is unkind to play with a person’s vulnerabilities and feelings. But when it comes to casual sex and dating, isn’t the point to see what’s out there, without the seriousness of seeking a long-term partner? Being a player may mean you view romantic interactions with little pressure and accept the fact that not every relationship is forever. Being a player might just mean you’re the boss of your sex life—and you’re having a heck of a lot of fun doing it. To eff like a man requires the right amount of selfishness; not in turning a blind eye to the feelings of your partner, but in putting yourself at the centre of your decisionmaking when it comes to sex. Do they want to see me again—do you want to see them again? Does this feel good for them—does this feel good for you? Women can be selffocused, and we can find freedom in playing the field and pursuing what feels right in the moment. If casualness is the currency of intimacy, let’s close the wage gap and eff like men.

Alisa Bressler

Rhea Matharu

HATE the PLAYER GAME not the

Illustration by Nadisha Gautam

Eyes lock through the partition of a fluorescent screen. After a long-winded process of browsing, you’ve been paired with a player. Game on. The die is rolled and like tradition, friendly interactions are exchanged (for now). The game is rather complex and only the most skilled of players may win. It can end in a matter of days or persist for months, depending on if you play your cards right. It may terminate if a player forfeits, loses connection, or the rarest of them all, both players attain their objectives. The rules? Endless. If the game continues for longer than three months, you should log off. You need to be on and off with your actions so the player cannot predict your next move. Timing is everything. Don’t show your hand. Keep your poker face on at all times. Something about boxes. I’ve grown up watching and loving romantic comedies, the ones with the infamous love confession arriving at the perfect moment and usually accompanied with rain. Mr. Darcy’s declaration to Elizabeth lives rent-free in my mind. I was a hopeless romantic ready for my love story. I had the soundtrack to my movie constructed perfectly. That is, until I became victim of the phenomenon known as a “situationship.” It was everything a relationship was until one day it wasn’t. As I started to analyze what went wrong, I stumbled upon the dreaded theories. It was longer than three months, so I should have known. I wasn’t his first love, so I should have known. I wasn’t “mean” enough for the feeling of adrenaline to sustain itself so I should have known it would end like this. Dating became a game and I wasn’t even sure if I was trying to win. You’d follow the next player’s moves, predict what they would do next and beat them to the chase. My new mantras were learned from media such as “He’s Just Not That Into You,” or “Sex and the City.” The latter brought light to the Taxi Cab Theory from “Sex and the City” which suggests that men are like taxis; when they’re available, their cab

light is on, and when they’re not, it’s off. I navigated my way through the playing field with extreme caution, stopping at every red flag I’d see, or rather, would irrationally conjure. I derived the perfect formula on when to answer a text. Suddenly, each scenario had its own classification, with a drafted out solution from the sisterhood. If it looked like I was losing in the game, I would simply quit and start another- much like my family game nights. Is love really as simple as X + Y = Z, though? Are theories able to rationally justify such a distinctive feeling? The optimist in me disagrees. To a certain point, it becomes exhausting to abide by abiding to these rules and theories. It seems as if every day, a new rule is made on how to attract someone, as if artificially fabricating intimacy. As human beings, it has become second nature to deconstruct everything, to simplify and master the processes in our lives. We feel the need to identify patterns and habits and construct our own crystal ball of what the future will hold. These tendencies have seeped into the world of love and genuine connnection, not accounting for the multitude of variables at play. These rules simply do not consider the variances that make up our individual, romantic cores. Vulnerability is being viewed as a weakness, when in reality, it is one of our strongest assets. The fear of rejection has led many to hide behind games of manipulation. High stakes, low emotional risk. I’ll be the first to say that I quit. I’m letting go of the game of fetch, my fears of ghosts, and removing the mask of nonchalance. I’m tired of running away for the short-lived thrill of the chase. In a world where indifference is inflated, my currency remains to be authenticity. I’ll push myself to take the leap of faith instead of running away. My emotions will not be defined by conspiracy theories. My perception of someone will not be influenced by their adherence to supposed guidelines on modern dating. My love will not be calculated meticulously. After all, math wasn’t my forté. 21

Harvey Tolentino Doniego

Perhaps love has another name a rose by any other. Could I call you Love? Do you prefer Agape, Philia, Eros? Can I call you friend, sibling, lover?

What is Love? I had thought I knew but love is fleeting, it changes names. It is a carousel of people, sharing the same sentiment but lack the conviction.

Where is Love? I’ve looked for Love like I’ve already lost it. Perhaps I am not looking, right Swipe left a superficial wish, a hope, You, be mine.

When does one Love? Capital L 3 am I await your call. That’s Love, right? I check if you are mine Lover, you are not Check again later

Who do we Love? 22

I look in the mirror, black. A screen lights up a feeling arises, And yet Is this love? Bleak and fleeting This phone is no home has no heart A simple way to depart contact list full of ghosts Why do we love? Love is hard, it is peace it is pain, a noun, a verb, an adjective. Love is in every action It is a champion by many names a resounding sound Like trumpets played by angels a decided fact and a universal want.

How do we Love? Love is a feeling, I fear to feel. Love has been felt by a mother and father Given to a child Felt by friends Known to all

Perhaps Love has another name But when I call: who is there? What do you crave? How do we desire? Why do we lust?

Where are you, Love?

Sea

Legs Sadie Williams

The ground mimics the lurching of the sea when feet return to shore The world continues to turn as the fair ride comes to an end And the bed breathes against my skin As you had moments ago while you laid beneath me I love this feeling of your motion lingering on I’d like to conjure this trick of the mind At any time So that I can feel your breath long after you are gone 23

Great

(S)expectations Aaliyah Mansuri Nothing changed, really. Not three minutes after, not an hour after, not a week after, and not five months after. This time last year, I published a stream of consciousness about my lack of experience, but those questions were not actually what I wanted answers to. I was passive when it came to love and sex, and I just needed some form of control over the situation. Putting yourself out there, especially inexperienced and “old” is a risk, but the fear of living in the scenarios inside my head forever was far greater. People say that your body’s internal clock is never off-time, and I’m glad that I trusted mine. I thought my life would split in two: The Before and The After. I saw sex as something that would come in, change me for the better, and then leave. To view sex as an event and not a practice was where I went wrong. I didn’t even have to tell him about what I thought was my irreconcilable “ick”, because he read last year’s article. 24

He simply said, “It was an interesting read.” Despite that, I was still quickly confronted with the fact that I had no clue what to do. All the things I worried about were valid; I didn’t know where to put my hands, where to look, or what to look like. Something I realized almost immediately was that there is no real way to prepare for it, but, is it annoying to say that things came pretty naturally? I collected sex stories like it was my hobby. I listened to everyone but myself, and every narrative I had constructed about sex was from a friend’s one-night-stand story, or another friend’s three year long relationship. I was forewarned that it would be awkward, that it would hurt, that it wouldn’t work, that the second time is better, that I should avoid being on top, and the list goes on. Very few of these things that my friends said would happen, happened. Sex is one of the most personal things, and because it is so personal, it has to be different for

everyone. For me, it wasn’t awkward, it was sweet. It was painful, but not in the splitting way I was told. I will say that whenever you place so much value on something, it almost always underwhelms when you get there. He said that I should avoid thinking of “losing my virginity” as some sort of loss, because in reality, it was a new beginning. I remember little from the day I had sex for the first time, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. This is not to say that sex had no effect on me. After the fact, I came to understand that a lot of the ways I thought about love and sex were hurtful. When people say that you can’t expect someone to love you if you don’t love yourself, I thought of that in the opposite way. How can I love myself, when no one else did? I felt that not having sex made me love’s biggest failure, and I refused to look for it anywhere else. I blindly forgot about the abundance of love in my life that I was nowhere near lacking in. Emma and I wish each other “Happy Discover Weekly” every Monday to celebrate the new additions to our playlists. Rav and I cuddle and watch Bollywood movies, facetiming our mothers in between musical numbers. Cayleigh will never go to CoGro without asking me if I want my spinach and feta bagel. Kat will read every piece I write for MUSE, no matter the time of day. Mariam and I call once a week, even if it’s for ten minutes at a time. Jena, Lottie and I vow that as long as we live together, no one will eat alone.

was my birthday. Turns out, a lot of what I wanted was validation from having sex— the recognition that I was like them, that I wanted what they wanted, and that I liked what they liked. I realized that wanting this validation was just a common consensus, because our sex lives would not be as fulfilling if conversation didn’t follow. The same can be said about a lot of great things—that’s why we have book clubs and Letterboxd. I took this as an ingroup and an outgroup,—always the listener and never the storyteller, when in reality, no role is more important than the other. How lucky am I, that I got to hear every mistake anyone could make, to hear how happy my friends were, and to be able to be there when sex led them astray. Now, with my own stories to share about excitement and heartbreak, how lucky am I that I have friends to listen and be there. As a first-time storyteller, I’ll let you all in on something; I kept my socks on.

I still texted almost every friend I had on the way home after I did “it” for the first time. The feelings, calls, and congratulations, I could’ve sworn it Illustration by Armita Dabirzadeh

Prabjot Chohan

WEIGHT OF

WORDS

TW: Brief mention of Abuse

I used to hold my words very close to myself, to the point that I rarely used them. ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I was wrong’, and ‘I love you’ were phrases I rarely used, and never because I didn’t want to, but because they scared me. Those words were ones I rarely heard reciprocated to myself. They carried an unspoken weight that I feared the responsibility of bearing. The responsibility for the connection they formed between people. But despite all that, they were the very words that I wished to hear from someone else. The people I find it hard to express myself most to are, ironically, the people I’ve known the longest., my family. My mother wasn’t the most emotionally savvy, either about herself or her children. My two brothers weren’t the healthiest they could’ve been, leaving them with gaps between themselves and the children around them. I picked up on all those details early on; I made up for what they lacked. At the cost of my own development. Being their family is the biggest reason I held back in expressing myself. They needed a figure; to yell at, to cry to, to confide in, to laugh with, and to feel safe with. All without fearing reprimand before comfort. Be it parent or sibling, they needed a friend. It carved me into the person I am today. And honestly? I hated them for it. My mother immigrated to this country with dreams for her children that many would understand. And well, she went through the worst of what life could offer her. Experiencing abuse that boxed her off from the country she now called home. The connection she was meant to form with the

world, she formed with me instead, her first child. I became her bridge to this country, just as she bridged me to life. My brothers each have medical conditions which didn’t leave either of them at the starting line everyone else may metaphorically have, specifically, that I have. So my care for them was laced with guilt for a long time. The need to make sure they knew, that they were no less than anyone else. If I could bridge a gap, I would; with all the might I had in me. For the sakes of others who have experienced the same barrier as they have, and for the sake of those who will come after us. Communication not easily understood, their naivety taken advantage of, and opportunities not given because of someone else’s view. It was my obligation to fill the gaps. If I couldn’t express care through words, it would be through my actions. But I still had yet to lose the guilt I felt, for hating them, for making me feel obligated to do it. I still felt the need to make up for a loss I never caused. But I’m getting there. I’m getting past my own grievances, and accepting that familial love works in funny ways. It took years of others saying “you really love your family” for me to realize everything I did, was to express love. Step by step, I’m getting to a place past my disdain of myself, a place where I’m capable of being proud of what I did back then, and what I will do in the future. A place where saying ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I was wrong’, and ‘I love you’ aren’t scary.

Vintage Love

Pem Dalyah Schiarizza

There’s magic in this house magnetic warm feminine Seeping through the walls Rising from the floors Inhaled by us Nourished and sustained Serendipitously brought together in masks and keyboard clacks with christmas cards and long calls The house opened us we held on we still hold on Stories told on our kitchen floors melting into our couch asking questions walking home eating dinner telling secrets The strings tying us together in a beautiful bow Two years of magic laughter - I could be sad, but I could never be bored in our magic house so loved in our magic house We brought life to magic filled the cracks of its foundation You girls brought life to me your kindness brilliance courage 34

Together we grow we’ll walk across stages we’ll eventually grow out of our magic house conquer the last mount throw the last bash listen to the last vault We’ll teach travel stumble reinvent from wherever our brave, brilliant selves lead us We’ll take our magic with us until we come back to our magic home

Illustration by Armita Dabirzadeh

LOVE AND SEX Advice I’ve been friends with my best friend since we met in res back in our first year. You can imagine we have been through a lot. We’re pretty in tune with one another but recently there’s been a third person in our relationship, her boyfriend. I find she doesn’t have time to hang out just with me, her boyfriend always has to tag along. I even noticed that they only want to spend time with me oneon-one when her boyfriend is busy or they’re in a fight. Even when we do hang out just the two of us, she’s just talking about him, and waiting for me to finish talking so she can talk some more about him. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for her getting her first successful long term relationship ! Am I a bad person for missing the way things used to be?

This is such a frustrating feeling; being pushed aside to the back burner because your reliability isn’t as exciting as the new relationship this person is experiencing. I want to assure you it is definitely not personal. In 99% of cases when this happens, especially if it’s someone’s first relationship, it’s because the person in the relationship is lacking self-awareness. The most effective way to burst someone’s 36

bubble is communication. I would recommend telling your friend what you have noticed and how that makes you feel. She will not know to change unless someone tells her to. I get it, confrontation can be scary! It might not be what you want to hear, but keeping this in will begin to feed feelings of resentment towards your best friend. The downfall of any relationship starts with resentment. Think of this conversation as an investment towards handling conflict with each other in the future. Ultimately, this will not be the only time your friendship will be forced into tackling a difference in priorities. This can happen when you have a heavy course load, moving away from each other, or even when someone gets a job. From your friend’s perspective, she’s feeling super excited and she’s excited that she has these new experiences to share with her best friend! Getting into your first relationship, it’s also the first time you are integrating a new dynamic of priorities and that is a learning curve in its entirety. Notice that as her best friend, of course she wants to divulge every detail to her BFF! You were probably along for the ride with all of her past heartbreaks. She values your support and advice. Chances are she has been in the same spot as you and would hate to make her best friend feel unimportant. After bringing it to her attention, it’s up to her to make an effort to change.

I recently got into my first serious relationship. To be honest I’m not nearly as sexually experienced as them and it makes me feel a bit insecure. I can’t help but think while hooking up, are they thinking about someone else? Am I as goodlooking as the other people they have hooked-up with? Am I doing something wrong? These thoughts take over my brain when we’re having sex and it can take me out of the experience. How can I put these thoughts aside and enjoy the moment with my partner?

Each one of us has lived a life filled with experiences before we met each other. It is completely natural to be curious about where, or with who, someone has been before they met you. Ultimately though, you have no control over someone’s past. In the same way, they do not have control over yours. It consumes too much of your energy to think about the stuff you have no control over. Constantly comparing yourself to the perception of your partner’s past is distracting you from living in the moment and forming new memories. Unfortunately, there is no quick switch you can click to turn these thoughts off. The queen of Drag, RuPaul, says, “if you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?” Working on loving yourself is often associated with the pursuit to secure a partner. However, while in the relationship you have to continue working on yourself. The journey to loving yourself is constant and never-ending. It’s not a finite point you are going to reach, rather something you have to constantly work on throughout life.

the easier it will be to knock these thoughts out of your mind. When in doubt, it never fails to remember that this person chose you, and chose to participate in one of the most intimate experiences with a person, with you! That being said, I often think we forget that sex is supposed to be fun! Sex can be both sensual and joyful at the same time. We get caught up in the pressure of sex being this mind blowing performance. Consequently, there is a disconnect between the mind and the body. Try to use your mind to focus on what feels good and harness the pleasure evoked during sex. Also, it is beyond important to communicate with your partner during sex. If at any point you are feeling anxious during sex. They can help you by talking through your anxiety, listening to you, and/or giving you any extra reassurance you want. Never feel like you have to go through with sex as an obligation to your partner if you do not feel like you are in the right mental space.

From MUSE Print Director, Katarina Bojic

I am not an engineer, but think of all the self love you did before entering the relationship as the foundation of a house. The house you build on top is only as strong as the foundation. Throughout time, the foundation has to be maintained so that the house does not crumble down. In this case, the more secure you feel in yourself, 37

On the Sun, The Moon, and Love Ben Linton 38

The sun rises every morning; regardless of us, he rises, and regardless of us, he falls. The sun is a sterile being; it burns away life, and with its light, it drowns out the stars. The sun is solitary. To us, it provides order—a frame in which we exist. So too does the moon rise and fall; she dances with the stars, the water, and the earth. She throws the order of the heavens into disarray and makes space for us and for life. Life exists; we exist, regardless of our desire, and so too does love. Life like the sun is orderly; it is sterile and solitary, and it remains so without the presence of love. Love is dirty; it is wild; in the face of order, it provides chaos; it provides life. Every human to ever have lived can trace their roots to the dawn of time, and at every stop in every life, there exists a place where, in spite of the suffering of existence, there is a small space carved out for love. Love haunts us; it goes hand in hand with suffering; we cannot exist without it. To love is to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable is to invite pain into your life. I am haunted by love. I once again find myself in the sterility of life. The winter sun beats down on me now as I write this. Once again, I find myself deeply, existentially cold. It is easy, under the moon's watchful gaze, to reflect on what once was. I miss watching their eyes, like pearls, gleam in the morning light. I miss the sweet taste of vanilla on their lips mixed with the acrid taste of coffee on mine. I miss how their smile shone against their wet cheeks as they wept for me. There is a Spanish saying, mi media naranja , my half orange. I find myself now incomplete—half an orange. My skin has been peeled back, and my soul exposed to the cruel sun. And now. Like a half orange, I rot.

Romance is Alive I want to be created. We are so insignificant that it creates significance, The only planet with intelligent life, Does anything matter? Do with that what you will, It won’t drive me to kill myself but it may invite me to knock on your door more often, In 4.6 billion years everything as we know it will be gone, Nothing is certain but this. How beautiful is it that we’re here together in this life? It’s an honour to convert O2to CO2. You and I are shared carbon, Stars, This perspective is healing, I’ve never felt so free, When you touch me, you’re touching the cosmos, Maybe that’s why your eyes look like stars, I am no greater than Jupiter or the dust on my shelf, Maybe this is why I swear we’ve met before, Do you believe in wishing on comets? They’re just friends we haven’t met yet. Nothing can be created nor destroyed, Nothing is truly lost, Science is unexpectedly romantic, We are all we have and time is not as plentiful as it seems, Time escapes through our fingers like water, We will never have enough. My starling, my moon boy, Come watch the stars with me, Point out your favourite constellation, I’ll show you where we’ll be someday next to andromeda, Though my mind is spotted today, there’s eternal sunshine, Eternal sunshine of the spotted mind. Love is not dead because we are here. 40

Catherine Parke

MUSE MAGAZNE LOVE & SEX Editor in Chief Directors Liz Gonzalez

Creative Director

Armita Dabirzadeh Print Director Katarina Bojic

Heads

Editors Isabella Hamilton Kris Sanchez Rhea Matharu Carolyn Kane Dalyah Schiarizza Jillian Morris Reagan Feld

Authors

Maya Hochberg Emily Spendlove

Katarina Bojic Dalyah Schiarizza Emma Monti Prabjot Chohan Rhea Matharu Aaliyah Mansuri Alisa Bressler Sadie Williama Ben Linton Catherine Parke Harvey Tolentino Doniego

Editorial Team

Models

Head of Layout Nadisha Gautam

Layout Team Layout Coordinators

Armita Dabirzadeh Maeva Baldassarra

Khush Sagar Alden Locco

Cover Illustrator Valerie Letts

With Love, from MUSE