February 15, 2022 - Intimacy by The Ubyssey

FEBRUARY 15, 2022 | VOLUME CIII | ISSUE XIII BANGIN’ SINCE 1918

U THE UBYSSEY

s ex i s s u e e th

the ubyssey F E BRUA RY 15, 2022 | VOLU M E CI I I | ISSU E X I I I

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e've done carnal, performance, autonomy and now intimacy. The discussions surrounding sex are almost endless because there are so many ways to approach it. This year's focus on intimacy is no coincidence, given the times we’re living in. Over the past two years our worlds have been turned upside down again and again. Through all that, have you taken the time to get to know yourself? To grow with other people? To explore the non-physical

aspects of sexual connection? It’s okay if you haven’t. Intimacy isn’t easy, and there is no one way to do it. It’s not a single act, but a continual practice. Within these pages you will find different views, experiences and thoughts on how to approach sex and relationships in a more connected way. We hope this inspires you to ref lect on your own relationships and what you might be looking to get out of them. ❦

lua presidio

paloma green

COORDINATING EDITOR

FEATURES COORDINATOR

special thanks to MODELS | Shanai Tanwar, Nathalie Adriana Funes Serna, Jerry Wong, Ugochi Agoawike, Ana Leon, Abigail Reardon, Lua Presidio and Thomas Rumpel PHOTOGRAPHERS | Isabella Falsetti, Melissa Li and Isa You ILLUSTRATORS | Mahin E Alam, Lua Presidio, Kylla Castillo and Raina Cao

N I TIM S I T

CY A

WH A

Intimacy | 3

WRITTEN BY

selin obzay

ntimacy is a funny thing. There is, of course, the Webster definition — “something of a personal or private nature” — and then there’s what we think intimacy is. To a lot of us, intimacy is physical. It’s sexual. It's a touch wrapped around feelings and emotions for the person you’re going to share some of the deepest aspects of your life (and body) with. Therefore, for a lot of people, intimacy has to do with a romantic connection. But intimacy is more complicated than that; it is also something shared with family and friends. Intimacy doesn’t need to be physical or sexual. I think that intimacy can also mean a personal relationship. Intimacy can take many forms. It’s time spent together after a bad day, a hug, sharing ideas or just words of affirmation. For myself, being single throughout the

pandemic, I have found intimacy with my family because of how comfortable I feel with myself in their presence. It seems to me, then, that comfort is intimacy at its finest, because in order to create a sense of intimacy you, well, need to be yourself. RuPaul puts it best: “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?” As long as you are not isolated, surrounded by the sadness that can cloud us during these lonely days, I think that there is some sort of intimacy with anyone you decide to spend your time with. But sometimes there’s also a loss of intimacy in relationships, the loss of comfort in relationships that can lead to feeling alone even when you are surrounded by people. We often consider intimacy as something to be shared with others instead of

something we can have with ourselves. But, at the end of the day, there is the constant and everlasting intimacy with oneself that we must deal with for the rest of our lives. We don’t have time away from our thoughts, and in that regard, we never consider what it means to be intimately knowledgeable of our own wants and needs. We can grow tired and spiteful of ourselves over time as we are faced with our restrictions. But these are our bodies. These are our lives. How can we grow tired of ourselves? How do we lose the childhood comfort in our lives? Well, the answer is a sort of growing internal knowledge of our faults while simultaneously facing a dying intimacy with our wants and needs. When you’re five or six, you know exactly what you

are capable of (or you think you do), but as you get older, you come to a certain realization of your own limits. In a sense, as you “grow up” you also “grow” more intimate with your apprehensions and the accountability that surrounds you. But how do you escape yourself when you grow bored? How do you enliven what you understand as “you”? That’s why I think intimacy, encompassing all these facets of life and comfort, must be expressed not only with those we love, but with our own lives as well. I’m not quite sure what that intimacy means yet. However, being able to come to terms with who you are, what you love and the people you surround yourself with can help you start to slowly understand your own needs and your own intimacy. ❦

4 | Intimacy

ON SELF-LOVE WRITTEN BY

eva rasciauskas TW: This article contains mention of eating disorders.

t’s really hard to listen to yourself. At the end of a yoga class, an instructor will often ask you to reflect on what you just did, to take a second to recognize how you feel and what your body accomplished today, to think of things you’re grateful for and things that make you happy. The benefits of including such a simple practice in your day are often overlooked. You might know yourself better than anyone else does, but that might also be the reason you’ll choose to ignore what’s going on inside of you. You’re tired but decide not to sleep just yet. You go outside on a cold day without that extra layer to keep you warm because “eh, what the hell.” You might even go through your daily motions feeling weighed down by something, yearning for support and compassion, but only end up judging yourself harshly for struggling. If your best friend felt the same way you were feeling, would you treat them how you treat yourself? Would you tell them to suck it up and get over it? That things are okay when they might not be? Or to keep their feelings to themselves and shove them down? I want to invite you to have an awkward first date with yourself at least once a day. Take five minutes to stop whatever you’re doing and genuinely ask yourself how you feel. Treat it like you’re on a first date with someone you’re really excited to get to know. Give yourself the opportunity to share how you feel. From personal experience, I’ve learned that this is the best way to cultivate an intimate relationship with yourself. I used to be extremely self-conscious as a young teenager. I was very aware of how my body looked and would constantly fixate on flaws, eventually only seeing myself as a series of mistakes. I developed an eating disorder and avoided going out

with friends because I would never feel good enough that day to have fun. In those moments of solitude, I would never once ask myself how I was feeling. I’d despise the way I felt, yet I would never acknowledge the fact that I was actually unwell. Instead, I’d distract myself by binging on food and mind-numbing reality TV shows, pursuing non-solutions for the bigger problems I had. Interestingly, it was when I took my first yoga class and was forced to awkwardly meditate at the end that I was finally able to acknowledge the feelings I had pushed away for such a long time. It turns out that the only way to love yourself is to actually be with yourself, to look within and pay attention to how you feel just as you’d ask a good friend how they’re doing. “Listening to yourself is one of the most challenging and deeply rewarding endeavors you can embark upon. No one will ever hear you as deeply or understand you as richly as you can yourself,” said Doree Lipson, founder and director of a psychotherapy centre called Wellness Embodied. She’s absolutely right. Lipson is a clinical psychologist and a student of Soto Zen Buddhist teachings. I came across her profile on LinkedIn a few years ago and was fascinated with the connection drawn between therapy and meditation, the idea that mindfulness is central to creating inner peace captivated me and I began my own journey of getting to know myself. I took the time to introduce myself to my own thoughts and I discovered that self-intimacy is like meditation. It’s checking in with yourself, acknowledging your emotions and giving yourself a break when you need it most. One day at a time, I rebuilt my mindset and learned to first tolerate, then like, is this an oxcom and finally love myself. Ultimately, it’s cultivating this awareness with yourself that allows you to bond with someone else. Intimacy doesn’t start with them, it starts with you. ❦

HIM

Intimacy | 5

WRITTEN BY

makyla smith

eeing him was like watching the heavenly bodies move. He looked at me and I saw the stars that lit up the night sky. Moments between us lasted infinitely. Like the first kiss surrounded by autumn-stricken f lora, or the first night when he held me so tight I was content with the idea of never breathing again. Intimacy isn’t easy. It leaches onto your soul without acknowledging the other senses, satiating them with a kind of calmness that’s like drifting on an ocean untouched by turbulence. I remember his hands, how they gripped my waist and ran through my hair. I remember his eyes, searching me

so warmly. He was like wine, running through all the parts of me so quickly, and leaving me floating, entranced. I remember waking up beside him, seeing him sleep so simply, his arm draped over me and the subtle remnants of a smile on his face. I remember him waking up, and I remember how quickly he kissed me, like it was a habit, like it was breathing. I remember reading the myth of Psyche and Eros and knowing it was ours, fearing that if I woke up too quickly or admired him too closely, he’d leave. I remember how he’d kiss my forehead softly before, during and after. Kisses so delicate they grew gardens in my chest. ❦

HYDROPLANING

WRITTEN BY

winnie ha

t’s a late winter night. It’s pouring rain outside, and we both need to head home. I didn’t even ask him for a ride; it’s just routine at this point. We’re in his car — which I’ve made fun of a million times before — with my “hopeless romantic” Spotify playlist playing softly from the speakers. I’ve only known him for two months, but it feels like a lifetime. These drives from point A to point B are really the only time we spend as just the two of us, but I feel safe with him in ways that I don’t feel around people who I’ve known 10, 20, 100 times longer. We talk. It’s the kind of conversation where you’re chatting and laughing and time feels compressed as you lose track of it. The 30 minute drive becomes 5. It’s the best kind of conversation; the one where you know you’ll probably wonder what you were actually talking about a few minutes after you leave the car, even as you can’t stop smiling. I rest my elbow on the passenger side window. His eyes stay on the road as his windshield wipers try their best to clear

the water to no avail. We’re almost at the bridge before our exit when we hydroplane. I’ve hydroplaned before. But it wasn’t anything like this. Out of nowhere, water from some unseen puddle is splashing onto the windshield, almost like at the bottom of a water ride. My heartbeat skyrockets. The car swerves into the other lane as he tries to find solid ground. A few seconds later, for the road and the small sedan on it, it’s like nothing has changed. But the mood inside the car has. His first reaction surprises me. “Are you okay?” he asks. I know that in a car that small we could have spun out, hit the concrete traffic barrier and died in an instant. But I say “yes” and I mean it. Because my heart knows that even if all we are destined to be are two college students working alongside each other for a couple months, with him I’m safe. In the passenger seat of his car that I’ve made fun of a million times before, I’ll always be okay. ❦

6 | Intimacy

MISSING HOME WRITTEN BY

winnie ha

few years ago, my sister said to me: “I wish I had a soulmate, like the way you do with Jacob.” I was 16 when I first really met him. I had already known his brother for two years and he’d been friends with my sister for about the same amount of time. So of course I had heard stories about him and he had heard stories about me. We had seen each other in passing but I didn’t really know him. After all, he was my younger sister’s friend. Growing up in our Sacramento suburb with perfectly manicured lawns, we weren’t a pair that the people around us expected to become friends, let alone best friends. Even overlooking the age gap, I was a studious outcast, with no real close friends or social life. He was an accomplished athlete and popular, although he was still awkward in the way that fourteen-year-old boys are. The late September sun was shining down on us as we were exiting school through the same gate. I was walking with my friends and with their encouragement I overcame my usual shyness and quickly introduced myself to him. Our friendship began with a “hello.” A few days later, his brother gave me his number. We started chatting via text, and our conversations would go on for hours — about school, gymnastics, our siblings, our dreams and what we wanted from life — and they always left me with a smile on my face. As the seasons changed, texting and waves in the hall turned into FaceTimes and walking each other to class. During spring break, I asked him if he wanted to walk my dog with me. Something that, over the next few months, would become our thing. Since neither of us knew how to drive yet and I didn’t know how to ride a bike, we would take hourslong walks together to the local Starbucks or Boba Tea House, even when it was 100 degrees Farenheit out. Jacob was the first person I had been this close to. I’d always had a crush on his older brother, but during that perfect summer, a part of me wondered if I had romantic feelings for Jacob. I pushed the feelings down; after all, I didn’t want to be a junior dating a freshman. But one June night, we talked about how we only saw each other as friends. How I still cared about him and loved him in ways

that I had never cared about anybody else before, but it wasn’t in a romantic sense. And I realized that we could love each other and have a platonic, intimate friendship. The kind where you can talk nonstop without worrying about making a fool of yourself. The kind you’re willing to put ahead of boyfriends and girlfriends when the other gets their heart broken. The kind people write books and make movies about. But as Parachute sings, “Nothing perfect ever lasts.” I graduated high school. We stopped seeing each other every day. The pandemic hit, and we didn’t see each other for over a year. I transferred to a school that was a 14-hour drive away from home. He started at the University of California, Berkeley last fall. He’s really, really bad at responding to messages. Throughout our four and a half years of friendship, hundreds of my texts and Instagram DMs have gone completely unread or unanswered. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times we’ve talked since I moved to Vancouver. But, when I was making plans to go home in December 2021, I messaged him saying that I wanted to visit him and meet his girlfriend in Berkeley. That conversation led to me offering to drive him back to Sacramento for the holidays. When December 17 rolled around, I was nervous. I had seen Jacob for all of one boba run since February of 2020. I stood there in the courtyard of a Berkeley residence hall, anxiously wondering what our dynamic would be. But then I saw him, and we hugged and it felt familiar. I met his girlfriend, and the three of us went on a mini-adventure to neighbouring Richmond before we packed up my Toyota Prius, and Jacob and I began the long drive back to Elk Grove. As we drove, sitting in non-stop traffic, we caught up, sharing our crazy stories from college. Four and a half hours later, we pulled off California State Route 99 at exit 286 and we were home. I was home. Even though we had both changed, the best kinds of friendship can withstand that change. I’ve wondered a hundred times if ours was that kind. It’s not perfect. But I think we can grow together. ❦

Intimacy | 7

BDSM AND INTIMACY WRITTEN BY

nathalie adriana funes serna

ommunication is an essential part of any kink dynamic. Healthy domination and submission dynamics rely heavily on trust and openness which allow partners to feel comfortable exploring sensations during a scene and to discover each other intimately. Communication can be exhilarating when discussing aftercare, preferences, needs and other fun things. But it can also be intimidating. I feel vulnerable when expressing my feelings; it’s something I struggle with. Sometimes, I would rather not say out loud the things I’m feeling, even though I know how important it is to communicate. Instead, I share my non-verbal signs with my partners, regardless of how long I expect our dynamic to last. The willingness to know and to understand another person’s needs, even when you have just met, is one of the reasons why kink is special. To trust like that is a form of intimacy. Once, halfway through a scene, my partner and I decided to take a break. This was someone with whom I was having a very casual relationship and I started overthinking the situation. I felt insecure about myself and what he might think of me overthinking. I faced away from him while we were cuddling and tried to put a blanket between us to avoid physical contact. He immediately noticed and hugged me, like I had asked him to do. He kissed my face, reassuring me that everything was great and I was amazing. We held each other as we talked about everyday life and other nonsense. And then I was okay. This kind of support made me feel special, seen and cared for. I felt intimately connected to him and comfortable opening up because he genuinely seemed to want to understand what I was going through. I let my guard down and allowed myself to enjoy all our scenes had to offer. While my experiences in scenes and aftercare vary with different people, having those initial conversations creates a safe environment that truly allows me to enjoy my time with them and our connection, regardless of how short. Having those discussions

allows me to feel close to them without crossing our emotional boundaries. It facilitates the formation of a unique intimate bond despite just meeting and knowing it will end soon. I feel safe because I know my partner will be there for me if I have a negative reaction minutes or days after a scene. I know they will give me longer aftercare than usual if I need it, even if I don’t ask for it out loud. Kink has not only helped me become intimate with others, but also with myself. Through artistic rope bondage, I have grown more intimate and more in love with myself. Contrary to its portrayal in mainstream culture, bondage is not something to jump into when starting to explore kink. It is a highrisk activity regardless of how cautious you are. When I first started educating myself on rope bondage safety it was out of a sense of duty, but as time went on, I started seeing it as learning to protect my body and my mind. I continue to learn out of love for myself, not just safety. When I tie myself, I spend a lot of time looking in the mirror to ensure the ties are done properly. Watching myself tie gives me the opportunity to spend time admiring myself and my artwork. When I self-tie, I feel warm. I feel tingles all over my body knowing that someone as special as me cares for me and puts effort into ensuring my safety. When I look in the mirror, I can’t help but smile at myself, my talent and my love for my body. When I self-tie, I have my own inside jokes, and when I laugh, I don’t only feel my happiness, but I see it. Exploring kink has introduced me to new forms of intimacy. It has taught me the importance of communicating my emotions and needs to establish trust, both with a partner and myself. These talks foster intimacy and are rewarding. They allow me to free my emotions and feel connected to what is happening without fear. Intimacy doesn’t have to take years to build, but even in short-term relationships it is essential. ❦

8 | Intimacy

RUD

How UBC stude dating

WRITT

iman janm Y

ou’re in line at a coffee shop. Light jazz is playing in the background; you can hear espresso dripping into cups and light chatter from the people beside you. You grab your coffee and go to sit down at a table. Across the shop from you, a person is reading your favourite book, the same one you have in your New Yorker tote bag. As you settle down in your seat, you look up, making eye contact. They smile at you. You smile back. They're cute, you think. You look back down and pull out your phone. You start to swipe on a dating app as you sip your coffee. Left. Left. Left. Right. Right. Left. You’ve been swiping for only a minute and have already seen a bunch of people you know, including your co-worker, your TA and your crush from that 10 a.m. English lecture in Buchanan B. But besides the people that you know, you’ve swiped right on a handful of eligible singles in your area. The only issue? You’re not getting matches, or at least not as many as you were expecting. You turn off your phone and grab your book. This sucks, you think. Roughly 38.7 per cent of respondents to The Ubyssey’s 2021 sex survey had used dating apps since March 2020. A 2019 study of Canadian university students found that 15.9 per cent of men and 8.7 per cent of women said that their last sexual encounter was a hookup or one-night stand. Hooking up, casual sex and swiping are normal for university students. However, each impact one’s mental health. Dating app users can experience positive emotional reactions after hookups, but that does not mean that everyone does. Dr. Kaitlyn Goldsmith, a psychology instructor

at UBC, attributes this to dating app users’ expectations versus reality. “There can also be some negative experiences as well,” said Goldsmith. “Some people experience feelings of regret, disappointment and dissatisfaction.” According to Businessofapps, since the rise of dating apps in the early 2010s, online matchmaking has grown into a $3.08 billion industry with roughly 270 million users worldwide.

comfort. Anuja was scared. She blocked the person across all platforms. But they just kept making more profiles and direct messaging Anuja. Anuja was being cyberstalked — the repeated use of online communication to harass someone. Eventually, she filed a report with Facebook. “That was a pretty terrifying experience,” said Anuja. “Knowing that this person could get ahold of my whereabouts, somehow, was not a good feeling.” SAFETY BEHIND A SCREEN According to a study released in 2018, 2.5 million Canadians experienced cyberAnuja, a UBC undergraduate who uses she/ stalking in 2014. While The Ubyssey wasn’t they pronouns, first downloaded dating able to find a more recent study on Canaapps in their first year. Anuja’s last name dians, a study released by the Pew Research has been omitted to protect their identity Center this January reported that 41 per as they are Queer and not out to everyone cent of Americans had experienced online in their life. harassment. Eleven per cent of Americans Anuja’s Tinder bio contained one line: experienced cyberstalking specifically. “Help me move my furniture.” They sat staring at the soft glow of their INTERNET INTIMACY phone swiping. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. Eighteen-year-old Aidan Perreault downThey thought nothing of the left swipes. loaded Tinder as a joke. It was his first year Why would they think anything of it? at a new school, in a new city with new That’s just how dating apps work. That was friends. Relationships were just waiting to until a few hours later when she received be formed. messages on Instagram, Facebook and Perreault ended up meeting his now LinkedIn, all from profiles belonging to the ex-girlfriend on Tinder. After his yearsame stranger. “I can help you move your long relationship ended, Perreault, now a furniture. Where do you live? Tell me, I'll fourth-year philosophy student, wrote off come down right now,” the messages read. dating apps. Although they didn’t recognize the pho“I’ve found myself happier for it,” said tos in the profile, they knew it was someone Perreault. they must have swiped left on. Now, with his candy-bar style Nokia With only Anuja’s first name and profile phone, Perreault tries to make connections photos, this person could find all their the old-fashioned way. He decided to leave social media accounts. dating apps due to the nature of swiping — They kept messaging Anuja. They asked which he finds swiping superficial. and guessed where Anuja lived. It was close “You swipe left or right based on your to where they lived, a little too close for gut reaction of how attractive you think

a person is,” said Perreault. “[This is] conducive to shallow short-term relationship building rather than actually building real-life intimacy.” Dating apps took the immediate in-person rejection out of dating for Perreault and that’s why he thinks they’re so popular within university circles. On the other hand, Anuja likes dating apps because they make meeting people less daunting. Although, their experiences with the apps have been a “mixed bag.” They had positive experiences with meeting new people, but has also faced a handful of negative experiences — something they atrribute to being a Queer, plus-sized person of colour. But, dating apps have allowed Anuja to foster intimacy with other Queer people in a safe environment. Queer people are able to date and create relationships through dating apps without wondering if the people they’re interested in are also Queer, something Anuja describes as “having a safety net.” She’s matched with people, and while there was no romantic connection, they’ve intentionally stayed friends because they didn’t have many Queer friends. “It's kind of sad, to be honest, that we have to hunt for friendship and companionship in online spaces, because you don't feel safe in doing so in real life,” said Anuja. “These online spaces create a lot of room for connection.” Dating apps have also made Anuja skeptical about intimate relationship building because it often feels like everyone on dating apps is looking for casual sex. She has found herself become desensitized to flirting. Goldsmith argues that attitudes around dating offline have changed due to a

Intimacy | 9

DTF?:

dents navigate g apps

TEN BY

mohamed seemingly “endless supply” of potential beaus on dating apps. “This might lead some people to sort of give up on relationships earlier on, because they think they could go back [to a dating app] and just find somebody else that fits them better,” said Goldsmith. According to the 2019 Pew Research Center survey, only 12 per cent of people say that they have been in a relationship with or married a person they met through online dating. A DIGITAL DOSE OF LOVE With a swipe-based interface, dating apps like Tinder and Bumble mimic social media platforms and allow for a constant stream of validation. This interface essentially “gamifies” dating, according to Goldsmith — making dating apps addictive. “[Dating apps] work with operant conditioning,” said Goldsmith, which is a type of learning where behaviour is either reinforced or punished. Your brain then releases chemical messengers like dopamine — a neurotransmitter that is associated with reward — when you swipe through and match with people on dating apps. As positive outcomes result from using the app, your brain engages in a learning process. As this happens time and time again, your brain learns to associate, not only positive experiences on the app with reward but also predictive cues — like swiping. Even if you don’t match with someone, swiping still seems rewarding even if there is no positive outcome from it. Simply, dating apps are built to be rewarding. “I think a lot of us just dive into apps

treating it like a game,” said Anuja, “and we inevitably get burned.” According to a 2020 study, being a user of a swipe-based dating app (SBDA), like Tinder, Bumble and Hinge, was associated with having higher levels of psychological distress, anxiety and depression compared to people who do not use SBDA. Dating apps impact users’ self-esteem. A 2016 study found that Tinder users reported having lower levels of face and body satisfaction, and self-worth than people who did not use Tinder. Besides the gamification of dating leading to competition, SBDA can impact intimacy within relationships. For Perreault, intimacy with people he met on dating apps came easily, something he attributes to getting to know people so easily through apps. Goldsmith spoke to the sense of intimacy. “[People] kind of feel safer being behind their screens in terms of self-disclosure, …which of course can lead to a sense of intimacy.” Though Perreault found that intimacy came easily through online dating, 66 per cent of people agree that dating apps “take away from the personal touch of meeting someone” according to the 2020 SKYN Condoms Sex & Intimacy Survey. Anuja believes that dating apps are a capitalistic way to find love. “Love and capitalism are inherently opposing forces,” said Anuja. “There tends to be this nagging thought in the back of your head [saying] ‘I could always find something better.’” When it comes to dating apps, Goldsmith emphasized the importance of communication and being upfront about what types of connections you want to make, not just to a potential partner but

to yourself, too. “[Many people find] casual sex … really fun and really positive. But oftentimes, they are finding it fun and positive because that's what they're looking for,” said Goldsmith. “For people who are looking for more stable long-term relationships or hoping for a romantic relationship, going into a casual sexual encounter might not be the best way to get that.” Anuja thinks communication is important too. “I think the key to navigating apps … is being very clear about who you are and what you want and once you're going, you know what you're comfortable with,” said Anuja. Anuja has felt herself start to hypersexualize herself and others because of the way she can be fetishized on apps. “On dating apps when people approach you it's usually with very f lirtatious, sexual one-liners,” said Anuja. “Getting used to that overt hypersexualized attention has rendered me practically oblivious to more subtle cues of romantic interest or f lirtation.” A 2018 survey by Statistics Canada found that 18.4 per cent of women and 13.6 per cent of men experienced unwanted sexual behaviour online. 28.2 per cent of women and 18.7 per cent of men took an online protective measure like changing their username or deleting their accounts because of this harassment. Goldsmith attributes this to people feeling more comfortable saying things that may be more forward while online in comparison to other contexts. “When you’re anonymous or a little bit more anonymous, you can have this higher sense of confidence,” said Goldsmith.

“It's so much easier for people to be disrespectful from behind the keyboard,” said Anuja. Anuja believes that hookup culture is ingrained in the university experience, even without dating apps. 41.4 per cent of men and 32.6 per cent of women have lied at some point about the number of sexual partners they’ve had, according to a survey by Superdrug Online Doctor that surveyed 2,000 people in the US and Europe. “I don't think we can pretend like dating apps are the sole perpetrators of hookup culture,” said Anuja. “I think dating apps act as a conduit.” TO SWIPE OR NOT TO SWIPE As you finish up your coffee, you decide to pick up your phone one more time to swipe through some singles. You hear chatter in the shop, pencils scratching paper and baristas asking people whether they want their drink hot or iced. The person reading your favourite book is still sitting across the shop from you. They're cute, you think. You look back down and pull out your phone. Maybe dating apps just aren't for me, you think. Left. Left. Left. It’s the person that was sitting across from you. They have all the same interests as you, listen to your favourite band and are clearly looking for a relationship, whether that be long-term, or a hookup. They are on a dating app, after all. They’re cute, you think. Right. It’s a match. Would you like to message them? ❦

10 | Intimacy

I HAVE HERPES You could too.

WRITTEN BY

anonymous

f you get cold sores, you have herpes. If you get cold sores, you have herpes. If you get cold sores, you have herpes. There, I said it. When I got my test results, I cried for an hour. And then I cried some more. Not because I was scared for my health, but because I was afraid of what people would think. Part of me thought no one would ever want to be with me — that I was suddenly unloveable. This horrible thing had happened to me without me knowing, and it was never going away. My mom was the first person I told. “Do you see me differently now that I have herpes?” I asked, trying not to cry. “I think you’re still the same daughter I had, just more grown-up now,” she assured me. After a pause, she chuckled. “Just remember to use condoms.” “I always do.” Which — barring two ex-partners who had gotten tested and a couple of accidents — is true. I have always taken my sexual health seriously. I get tested every six months and expect the same from my partners. But herpes is so common they don’t even test for it on a regular STI panel. I probably wouldn’t have ever found out I had it if my partner at the time hadn’t had his first outbreak. When he called me to tell me he had herpes, I didn’t know what to do. After countless Google searches and conversations with my closest friends, I decided to get tested. Multiple doctors repeatedly told me that getting tested while not showing any symptoms was rare and discouraged. But I wanted to know. I don’t know how I got herpes, and I never will. The test can’t tell you how and when you got the virus. It could be from my partner but it could also be from someone else. I could have given it to him without even knowing — he was one of the partners I didn’t use barriers with. But a lot, and I mean a lot, of people have it. HSV-1 and HSV-2, also known as the herpes simplex virus 1 and 2, cause a chronic viral infection. Although HSV-1 is generally associated with oral herpes, or cold sores and HSV-2 with genital herpes, HSV-1 can also manifest in the genitals. Both symptomatic and asymptomatic

transmission through skin-to-skin contact is possible. Although there are ways to reduce and manage outbreaks, there is no cure. I’ve never had an active outbreak, but they can be painful. The World Health Organization estimates that approximately half a billion people around the world have genital herpes, while several billion have an oral herpes infection. However, the social price tag attached to the virus can have a more significant impact on sexual and reproductive health than the infection itself. The Center for Disease Control (CDC) recommends against getting tested for the virus unless you are actively presenting with symptoms. The CDC considers the mental health consequences of stigma worse than the benefit of knowing you’re a carrier of the virus. But here I am telling you about HSV and how it’s not a big deal — anonymously. I thought a lot about just writing this under my name. Part of me felt it would take something off my chest. If I wrote about it and told strangers a screen away I have herpes, then it would just be another thing about me. But I got worried that it would become the thing about me. I worried

that my friends would be surprised, future employers might look at me differently after they Googled my name and potential crushes would judge me. So I’m doing this anonymously. I still feel anxious when it comes to dating new people. When should I tell them? How will they respond? Sometimes, even the most progressive people are insensitive assholes, and I don’t have the energy to deal with that. Don’t get me wrong; I’m a firm believer in informed consent, so I want to tell potential partners about my STI status. I have a stack of resources I’ve gathered over time to help them out. But at the same time, I want to be wanted without hesitation. The idea that it might not happen scares me. I have never been too comfortable with myself, so I navigated the dating world in a state of semi-acceptance that I would never get a super-loving, super-caring ideal relationship. I’m unpacking that in therapy. But add an irreversible STI diagnosis to that mix, and you swear off dating for a while. When I finally did start dating again — which means I went on two dates with a Hinge guy then stopped dating again for months — I disclosed my HSV status to

him, dreading his reaction. To my surprise, he was totally cool with it. It turns out the girl he dated before me also had herpes. But here’s the thing: he thought he knew about herpes. He didn’t. He didn’t know that HSV-1 and HSV-2 aren’t isolated to specific areas of the body and didn’t listen to me when I tried to explain. He just congratulated me for being so “brave.” So I gave up trying. No one asks you if you get cold sores before they kiss you, or seem to care. But they get “weirded out” and won’t go down on you if they know you have genital herpes. HSV-1 can be transmitted both from kissing or oral sex. I understand the concern. I understand school-mandated sex ed has failed most of us. Ideally, no one would like to have a virus in their body that occasionally painfully presents itself. At the same time, I’m baffled at how much we don’t know about sex for a generation that created the term “situationship.” A partner who’s open and informed about their STI status means having a partner who knows their own body and cares about your health and pleasure. It means a partner who’s not only ready but is actually looking forward to talking about sex before you do the deed. I understand it can be scary to navigate, but sex with communication is so much better than uninformed sex. If you just got diagnosed with herpes, I want to tell you that we are worthy of love and respect. An STI status doesn’t mean anything about who you are as a person. It doesn’t mean you’re “unclean” or “careless.” It only means you had physical contact with other people. Yes, the virus will stay in your body forever. You can’t change that. There’s no cure, magical diet or miracle remedy for it. What you can do is learn more about the virus in question. Information is power, and it’ll ease a lot of your concerns. People with STIs find love all the time. People with STIs have regular and amazing sex all the time. Your sexuality does not end with a diagnosis, but it can evolve and empower you as a result of one. Your diagnosis will become just another thing about you. ❦

Intimacy | 11

EXPANDING SEX ED: Resources to keep learning WRITTEN BY

tova gaster

ome students come to UBC comfortable discussing everything from consent to contraception. However, abstinence education and misrepresentations of sexuality in media leave others uncertain or misinformed when they begin university. For Janice Suhardja, a second-year sociology student from Indonesia, conversations around sex in school and at home were “very conservative.” “It was definitely things like, ‘Sex is a gift from God, only to be done in the context of a marriage between a man and a woman’ and all that,” Suhardja said. “We weren't even talking about birth control.” The internet can connect people to resources about sexuality, especially for those who are Queer, trans and disabled, but reputable information can be hard to find. “I started teaching myself online about Queer sex education,” said second-year arts student Ash Muller. He cited the webcomic Oh Joy, Sex Toy by sex educator and artist Erika Moen as a valuable resource to learn more about topics such as kinks, healthy communication and gender-affirming sexual experiences. “It's frustrating — like where was all this stuff when I was first learning about sex?” said Muller. Although expansive, the internet can also be a deceptive resource. When it comes to the more complicated aspects of sex — such as mature communication, kinks or healing from trauma — it can be helpful to interact

with trusted experts and community members. Learning about sexual wellness, health and pleasure is a continual process that looks different for everyone. Luckily, there are a variety of resources that are easily accessible to people of all experience levels.

BC residents can also anonymously ask sexual health and wellness questions through the Sex Sense line: a “free, pro-choice, sex-positive, and confidential” service staffed by experts. Vancouver also has an active kink community for those interested in educating themselves on safely exploring RESOURCES IN VANCOUVER non-normative sexual interests and lifestyles. COVID-19 has put many in-person TheSpace2 is a teaching studio and spaces for community learning and community hub for shibari or kinksupport on hold. Still, bookstores, sex abu, also known as the art of rope toy stores and virtual support groups bondage. It’s run by co-instructors are great places to explore what you Georg Barkas and Addie. Although like. TheSpace2’s physical location has been Little Sister’s and The Art of Loving closed since March 2020, they continare small businesses which focus ue to hold tutorials and demonstraon diverse sex positivity education. tions on their website and organise a Little Sister’s is a “bookstore and art monthly Queer book club. emporium” with a broad selection “We teach how to apply the ropes, of Queer-friendly books, as well as a but also how to interact with each large selection of sex toys for all genother before, during [and] after a der identities and orientations. rope scene,” said Barkas. “Rope bondThe Art of Loving sells a variety of age in a much broader context than toys and erotica. Its staff are trained just what some folks might expect. on sex-positivity, and can offer inWe practice rope bondage from ... a formed recommendations for newmeditative perspective, also of course bies. Pre-COVID-19, the store hosted from a sexual perspective, and very educational seminars on topics from much from a gender [empowerment] kissing to anal. Although workshops perspective.” are on hold, the website includes prodTo combat exploitative dynamics uct reviews and expert tips. that can emerge in BDSM communiNonprofit Qmunity hosts a variety ties, Barkas and Addie said that they of support groups, including spaces make an effort to center anti-racist, for Queer, trans, autistic, asexual and feminist and anti-oppression values nonmonogamous people to discuss in their classes, and in the culture their experiences, as well as a group they create. This includes asking reserved for IBPOC. for pronouns, creating a culture of

consent and not making assumptions about people’s backgrounds or preferred roles within rope bondage. RESOURCES AT UBC The AMS Sexual Assault Support Centre (SASC) is a hub for resources, education, counseling and support for UBC students who have experienced (or are invested in learning about) gender-based and sexualized violence. UBC’s Sexual Violence Prevention and Response Office (SVPRO) also holds trainings on media literacy, consent culture, supporting survivors and more. Students can also find contraceptives and safer sex supplies outside the Wellness Centre in the Life Building. There’s also a store that sells lubricants, condoms, pregnancy tests and more at cost. It’s also vital to remove stigma around STI’s, and to get tested regularly. UBC’s Student Health Service offers free and confidential testing, and there are other testing sites throughout the Vancouver area. For those who have room in their schedule, courses that feature sexuality can prompt UBC students to challenge their assumptions about society and about themselves. “When I took sociology of family last year, there were conversations around sexual orientation, same sex families and same-sex couples” said Suhardja. “It felt very open and supportive.” ❦

BUILDING CONNECTIONS THROUGH NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY

12 | Intimacy

WRITTEN BY

charlotte alden

ou can fall in love in 36 questions. That was the thesis of Mandy Len Catron’s widely-read “Modern Love” New York Times essay, in which she tested psychologist Arthur Aron's experiment to see if he could make two people fall in love in a lab. The experiment requires two people to answer a range of questions about family, friendship, memories and more. There’s nothing inherently sexual about these questions. In fact, these questions allow for people to connect intimately in general. “Although that was framed in terms of a romantic relationship, there’s actually nothing about them that particularly has to fall in that context,” said Carrie Jenkins, a philosophy professor who specializes in the philosophy of love. She said this experiment is one way to foster non-sexual intimacy with people in your life. WHAT IS NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY? Non-sexual intimacy is any intimacy that doesn’t include sexual acts, such as physical, emotional and intellectual intimacy. Physical intimacy includes any kind of non-sexual touch, such as hugging and cuddling. Emotional intimacy can involve divulging personal experiences or feelings to another person. Finally, there’s intellectual intimacy, which Jenkins defined as trading and working through ideas together, and stimulating each other intellectually.

WHAT ARE THE BENEFITS OF NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY? Jenkins said non-sexual intimacy, and intimacy in general, are essential to combatting loneliness. “[Loneliness] is actually very bad for people in terms of mental and also physical health, and it can affect all kinds of things like life expectancy,” she said. In her research, Jenkins studies meaning in people’s lives. She’s found that a lot of meaning can come from emotional connections with other people. “[Through intimacy,] we are able to form connections with one another that enable us to make meaning out of those connections and out of our own lives,” she said. “None of that has anything to do with sex.” Touch hunger, which has become more prevelant due to the COVID-19 pandemic, can be addressed through physical forms of non-sexual intimacy. “There are real benefits for our health and wellbeing of being intimate with other people, psychologically, emotionally and physically, but that doesn’t have to be sexually,” said Jenkins. NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY CAN HAPPEN OUTSIDE OF A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP Amatonormativity refers to the idea that everyone should be seeking an “exclusive, romantic, long-term coupled relationship.” Elizabeth Brake, who coined the term,

argues that this results in people overlooking the value in other types of caring relationships. Jenkins said that people can search for non-sexual intimacy outside of a romantic relationship. “One of the things that I think we’ve tended, culturally [and] socially, to do over the last few hundred years is try to bundle [all kinds of intimacy] together and get the sense that one person has to do or provide or be all of those things, and that should be your one romantic partner.” Physical, emotional and intellectual intimacy can all be present in friendships, something that Jenkins said shouldn’t be overlooked, especially since some people don’t look for or have a romantic relationship. BUT BOUNDARIES STILL EXIST WITH NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY Just like sexual intimacy, consent matters when it comes to non-sexual intimacy. Jenkins said establishing boundaries and consent for non-sexual intimacy should be done in a similar way to sexual intimacy. She emphasized the need for clear communication, and making offers, rather than requests for non-sexual intimacy. “Offer to spend time with someone rather than asking them to spend time with you,” Jenkins said. ” Make it available to a person rather than asking them to give something to you.” ❦

Intimacy | 13

WRITTEN BY

anonymous My anxiety still makes me feel jumpy, but more often than not, what I feel is fatigue. I feel the rigidity of being Hi. on guard at all times and never quite I was diagnosed with post-traumatic feeling safe enough to exist. The idea of stress disorder (PTSD) in August 2021. being with another human ever again PTSD separates you from your body and feels terrifying because first you need to the possibility of getting that connection feel safe in your own body. back seems out of reach. You feel scared As much as I would love to say you to reconnect to yourself, and then feel can girlboss your way through sexual embarrassed by that fear. The thought trauma, lighting some candles and of intimacy makes you want to run away pulling out a sex toy isn’t going to make and hide. There is a sort of helplessness all your PTSD symptoms disappear. The to it all. You question whether you’re first time I tried doing that, I had put broken. You’re not. But it's scary to be so much pressure on myself to “just do vulnerable again after you’ve had your it” that it got to the point where I was sense of safety completely violated at just assaulting my body again. I didn’t your most vulnerable moment — that’s realize that I had to slow down and not something that gets easily fixed. reapproach my body like it was the first TW: This article contains mention of PTSD and sexualized violence.

time I was seeing myself as a complete person. I had to reacquaint myself with my sexual self, with extreme kindness and patience. I now understand my own boundaries. I don’t feel guilty for not being where I wish I was. I don’t feel shame for not moving past the foreplay because I am trying to reconnect to myself. I am still healing, and I shouldn’t feel like I need to be anywhere except for where I am right now. I’ve only just started my healing process, but being patient with myself is necessary if I want to open up to others and be vulnerable again. Part of my healing has been coming to terms with my sexuality, with my Queerness. Once I was able to embrace

my Queer side, only then did I feel I could let go of this facade I had created — one where I felt like I had to be the epitome of every straight man’s wet dream. Once I was able to embrace my Queerness, I was able to see sex not just as penetration, but as a highly-personalized process. There is no hierarchy in healthy relationships or sex — rather, it’s about being in the present and connecting with your partner and yourself. I can’t change what happened to me. I can only move forward from my trauma and hope that my willingness to speak out will help someone else. My intimacy journey has only just begun, and I have a long way to go, but I have faith in myself. With patience, love and kindness, I’ll get there eventually. ❦

H VIRT T I UA W Y L E CY A TIM IN

MY JO UR N

14 | Intimacy

WRITTEN BY

milada dzevitski

e often connect intimacy with sex, but it doesn’t have to be. The pressure for intimacy to be sexual can create unrealistic and unhealthy expectations in a relationship when you should only do what you feel comfortable with. I am currently in a long-distance relationship. My partner lives on the East Coast, and I find myself, well, here. With our studies keeping us on different sides of the continent, we typically get to see one another in person every six months. The time in between can be difficult. Online forc-

es us to put more effort into creating these non-sexual intimate and bonding moments. The relationship seems to have more meaning as we show our seriousness and commitment; the extra effort shows how much we care. It also shows that sex is not always necessary in a relationship. To establish our connection virtually, we typically set a routine, a schedule of some kind. For us, intimacy can be as simple as sitting on a call with one another as we do homework. we just sit there, typing away while listening to the same playlist. We tend

to send each other good morning and good night texts. The morning ones usually consist of us cheering the other on, telling them that they'll destroy all of their classes. Other times, it's more intricate. We occasionally do movie nights and watch some of our favourite films and TV shows from childhood. It also means a lot to me when I feel like a total mess, breaking down about my assignments while he sits there on my computer screen trying to help me calm down. He reminds me to take a deep breath in and out, followed by a

solution for the problem that we come up with together. Trust and genuineness are the foundation of our intimacy. I feel close to him in all of these moments, despite the 4,818 kilometers between us. I feel lucky to have him, and I am very proud of our intimacy. Your relationship is yours. Don't let someone tell you otherwise. Don't feel like you need it to be any certain way. Relationships are where love and happiness blooms. Intimacy is whatever you want it to be. ❦

Intimacy | 15

To be known

One with love If only I were Aphrodite An all-knowing goddess I'd pave a road through

I’ll keep my eyes open

All the vast, lively oceans

As you ask permission,

Creating a direct path

I want to watch you

Straight to you

Watch me As I consent

Then I’d charm you

To trying

With loving whispers

Something new.

Murmurs of sweet nothings

I’ll keep my eyes open

Each of my breaths ticks one of your boxes

As you grip my thighs,

Satisfied completely by this intimacy

I want to watch you

As your smile plays connect the dots with your dimples

Watch me

Our hands intertwine

As my breath

Setting the roots for this love of ours

Rushes out To meet

We'd foam of passion

Yours.

Under an ancient cypress tree Casting a formed rebirth as our waves peak

I’ll keep my eyes open As you touch my hair,

If only I were Aphrodite

I want to watch you

If only I were.

Watch me As I melt

– milada dzevitski

In the warmth Of your care. I know my body,

[Fl]our hour

How I sway to the ebb

You were sprinkled across the tabletop

Of being known.

[Fl]our fingerprints, [fl]our breaths Folding and twisting

I am

In a boat of greasy metal,

Seen,

Raisins and cinnamon, cinnamon, cinnamon...

Respected,

"Sinner men!”

Loved.

I spat into the estuary. Actually, It was [fl]our.

– tianne jensen-desjardins

Now, this hour I spend rescuing [Fl]our baked raisins like rusty anchors From the depths of my thighs.

– polina petlitsyna