Date: January 24th, 2007 5:05 PM Author: vengeful shrine
and the sad thing is the bitch seems to think she's hot (she's trying to imply it anyway)--> "To showcase my assets, this picture has been taken just for the occasion —must prove that I’m not hideous after all. Do you see the amount of Crimson in this photo? I’m so full of school spirit I could burst."
Date: January 24th, 2007 11:08 PM Author: thirsty boiling water mental disorder
as if fucking a lot of guys is an achievement. a girl can fuck as many guys as she wants--all she has to do is ask. Much harder for guys, which is why it is an achievement. i wonder if she realizes this.
Date: January 24th, 2007 9:48 PM Author: Sooty principal's office
i love how basically every azn girl thinks white dudes are huuuuuuge after they've been with a few. in my experience, this has actually been true. that said, this girl is an ugly slut and i wouldnt bone her but i would let her blow my huge white member.
Date: January 24th, 2007 11:30 PM Author: Flatulent antidepressant drug
I don't know if I'd go so far to say that he was pwn3d. The Chinaman acknowledged the impressive size of the white penis relative to that of the Asian member but punctuated his post with a gentle reminder that there exists yet a higher denizen of the phallic food chain.
Date: January 25th, 2007 3:15 AM Author: mauve national
what makes you think that she's been with any asian guys at all? in my experience, girls like that avoid asian men to distinguish themselves from them. i doubt she has slept with one and thinks white dongs now huge in comparison.
Date: January 24th, 2007 10:25 PM Author: Twinkling Idiot Headpube
this bitch claims to be able to gauge the size of dude's erect dicks by copping a feel of their crotch trough the pants. sounds absurdly difficult of a dumbass asian ho to pull off.
Date: January 24th, 2007 10:51 PM Author: Primrose Jew
This is from her bio.
"After graduating from Harvard with her utterly impractical sociology degree, Elle plans on taking the unconventional, Bohemian route and freelancing for lifestyle magazines. She will write about sex, dating, and the misspent days of her youth. Cosmopolitan will reject her repeatedly. She will live in a “cozy”, vermin-infested Manhattan flat and her shopping budget will be severely reduced — but her soul will remain intact (unlike those of her i-banking peers). She will temporarily ditch writing long enough to find financial stability in the form of a corporate event planning business. She will opt for single motherhood because she inherited her own mother’s fiercely independent nature. Elle will write her memoir at age 40 after her candid column about making it in New York wins her fame for being her. Upon becoming a grandmother, her daughter will advise her to “put away the stilettos already.” She will staunchly refuse."
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:10 AM Author: Mint Drunken Sweet Tailpipe Queen Of The Night
What a load of shit. I like that she thinks her soul will remain in tact, as though working for GS is worse than being a literal fucking whore. But I can't stand the fact that she calls an apartment a flat. This isn't England, bitch.
Date: January 24th, 2007 11:04 PM Author: thirsty boiling water mental disorder
i wonder so many women these days hold multiple random sexual partners to be an ideal. I can understand how this is so for men--we are genetically programmed that way. But women are not. Is this really want she wants or is she caught up on being chic? my money is on the latter, stupid bitch.
(and no, she's not ugly but she's not beautiful either.)
Date: January 24th, 2007 11:57 PM Author: Misanthropic native
but she is fat and ugly. i mean dammit she's hideous.
its funny as she chooses to only comment on the racist posts vs. the ones that tell it st8 up. she's a dawg. i tell you what a escort could clean up in cambridge
also she writes a sex blog, a big part of sex is appearance or did her sociology degree not teach her this? what a poor dumb cunt.
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:22 AM Author: chestnut sandwich Subject: lol, viva la douchebag
Assholes? Even her ex-boyfriend agrees with much of what was written here. If this poor young girl thinks that her self-hating (yes, Asian girls who only date white guys have self-image problems) ways are doing anything but causing more emotional damage (see post about her father's emotional absence from her life), she's sorely mistaken.
As women get older, sexual history often becomes a deal breakder if a girl has been a bit of a skank . . . unless she's super hot. We can debate whether this is fair forever. But let's not pretend it isn't a reality. And this girl needs to hear it.
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:26 AM Author: Swashbuckling stage black woman
180 for dungeonmaster in the comments section:
Your Charisma is a mere 6, which is a fairly decent roll for a half-ogre. I am sure that you have more than made up for it with your Strength and (particularly) Constitution. It is great that you have manage to raise your Charisma score by wearing powerful magic items. Understand, however, that the current AD&D rules do not allow your item bonus to stack with your natural Leadership feat, which, for your Charisma score, should allow you to accept no more than 2 other adventurers into your party. The fact that you were able to accept as many as 6 or 7 adventurers instead points to the fact that you are probably wielding a magical item of tremendous powers. It should therefore come as no surprise to you that Chaotic adventurers from other planes are LARPing Shock effects while reading the many Scrolls containing your adventures.
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:27 AM Author: Swashbuckling stage black woman
180 for "jiame chen"
Hi hun-
You’re adorable and shouldn’t let these mean xoxo people get you down. I love your writing and think you’re super talented. When I was on the cheerleading team at Dartmouth, a lot of people gave me shit for getting acquainted with all the football and hockey players but I’ll always be proud of myself for taking advantage of my (o)(o) to the best of my ability. Be a strong azn girl and get all the white 8=====) you can!
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:28 AM Author: brilliant scourge upon the earth circlehead
This comment is my favorite. The iron reference is key:
Hi hun-
You’re adorable and shouldn’t let these mean xoxo people get you down. I love your writing and think you’re super talented. When I was on the cheerleading team at Dartmouth, a lot of people gave me shit for getting acquainted with all the football and hockey players but I’ll always be proud of myself for taking advantage of my (o)(o) to the best of my ability. Be a strong azn girl and get all the white 8=====) you can!
toodles,
jiamie
p.s. are you a fan of black and decker irons?
Comment by jiamie chen — January 25, 2007 @ 1:11 am
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:34 AM Author: chestnut sandwich Subject: ahhh, the voice of reason
Hey, Lena. Sometimes, I think you are a great writer. And sometimes, I think you are running out of topics to pen so you write sub-par entries. Your online persona has also developed a bit of an ego. That said, I think you are quite talented but still finding your way. Part of the problem is that your journey is on display for all to see, rather than in front of a nurturing teacher or mentor or people with helpful comments.
You say you aren’t a sex blogger now, yet in the past you have worn that label as a badge. You’ve said before that you just so happen to put your personal thoughts and feelings into a public domain. Please understand that this opens you up to criticism: people who disagree with your lifestyle, people who are jealous, people who are just mean-spirited to begin with, etc. Notoriety comes with a gamut of responses.
I’m sure you’re aware of all this. But I just wanted to add my two cents.
Also, those racist comments are completely out of line and despicable. I’m sorry you had to deal with those.
Date: January 25th, 2007 12:54 AM Author: Swashbuckling stage black woman
xoxo is like a group of insane, caged animals constantly fighting each other. But when someone from outside opens the cage, they all team up and focus the insanity on that one person.
Date: January 25th, 2007 1:23 AM Author: idiotic rigpig heaven Subject: what's funny
yah, her blog is annoying, and she's modeled her life after sex and the city, and so on. but what's funny is that half the guys here who are making fun of her looks are probably fat and ugly themselves =) stop talking shit and go get laid then
Date: January 25th, 2007 1:47 AM Author: Passionate orchestra pit
she deleted it....
Well, someones already left her a nice comment on her new post:
Yea, I disagree with the racist comments, but I think the fact remains that you are:
a) physically unappealing to the majority of men for any purpose other than instant physical gratification
b) incredibly oblivious to the concept of restraint or good sense
c) absurdly hypocritical and incapable of facing the truth (I'm OCD about sexual protection...except for that time a guy fucked me and left the used condom in me for 24 hours. I'm not an immoral person...except for when i have to kick a guy out so i can clean my room before fucking another one a few hours later.)
d) unlikely to realize any of this for a very long time.
I think it's a shame that you act this way, and I feel bad for you and most especially, your family. Best of luck in the future.
Date: January 25th, 2007 1:57 AM Author: Passionate orchestra pit
Filed under: Sex, Blogging, Life — Elle October 1, 2006 @ 3:24 pm
During my interview with the Crimson, the reporter asked if I ever fictionalized entries on this blog. I admitted to dramatizing conversations but never outright fabricating events or people. Besides, I’m no good at fiction, and often times, real life is stranger than anything I could ever invent. An incident this morning proves my point. Even for the girl who’s done everything, this was certainly a new experience.
Disclaimer: If you’re squeamish, stop reading right this second.
So I’m going about my business in the pseudo privacy of my bathroom stall, when I feel a funny, wriggly sensation down there. PLOP! I look down and it’s a … condom?! Scrunched up and floating in my toilet bowl, it’s definitely a condom.
What. The. Fuck. The only explanation I can think of is that in the middle of really drunk sex, we lost track of one of the condoms used. And it just went unnoticed for the next 24 hours until my vagina expelled the unwelcome intruder.
I reported the strange occurence to my blockmates, who reacted with memorable facial expressions and speechlessness. I’m sure I currently have readers squirming in their seats and/or informing their roommates of the Mather girl who found a condom in herself.
Clearly, I have no shame. Like I said, there’s no way I could make this shit up. Welcome to my life.
Date: January 25th, 2007 1:49 AM Author: Aquamarine Marvelous Location Pozpig
Not sure why you just deleted the post about the xoxo people…yea, I disagree with the racist comments, but I think the fact remains that you are:
a) physically unappealing to the majority of men for any purpose other than instant physical gratification
b) incredibly oblivious to the concept of restraint or good sense
c) absurdly hypocritical and incapable of facing the truth (I’m OCD about sexual protection…except for that time a guy fucked me and left the used condom in me for 24 hours. I’m not an immoral person…except for when i have to kick a guy out so i can clean my room before fucking another one a few hours later.)
d) unlikely to realize any of this for a very long time.
I think it’s a shame that you act this way, and I feel bad for you and most especially, your family. Best of luck in the future.
Date: January 25th, 2007 3:45 AM Author: Primrose Jew
Less swart in aspect, the companions of this figure were of that vivid, tiger-yellow complexion peculiar to some of the aboriginal natives of the Manillas;--a race notorious for a certain diabolism of subtilty, and by some honest white mariners supposed to be the paid spies and secret confidential agents on the water of the devil, their lord, whose counting-room they suppose to be elsewhere.
Date: January 25th, 2007 2:46 AM Author: charcoal boyish hunting ground house
it said we're terrible, racist people whose comments were uncalled for. then she quoted some stuff from this thread as examples of what terrible people we are.
she took a weak stab in an attempt to defend her actions.
she responded to some of our comments before deleting it all.
Date: January 25th, 2007 1:05 PM Author: chestnut sandwich Subject: H chicks
I know some great people . . . smart, compassionate and good looking . . . who went to Harvard College. And then there are the Lena's of H. You'd be surprised at how many H grads amount to absolutely nothing.
As many have already observed on this board, her writing is trite and tired, and the content on her blog shows she's got extremely bad judgment . . . i.e., who posts this shit knowing how often employers look at blogs to see who the hell you are? I know a girl who with a rock star record from Stanford who got nixed by the consulting firms she applied to because of her "money" shots on Facebook. Trust me, a little cleavage is nothing compared to what's still on "Elle's" blog.
Nonetheless, with H degree in hand, perhaps she'll slip into iBanking or consulting or some other pre-fab job (yeah, I know, what could be more pre-fab than law), but would you really hire this girl?
Date: January 25th, 2007 11:42 PM Author: Passionate orchestra pit
ahahahahahahahaha this comment is the best:
"Don’t listen to the haters. So what if you don’t fit the stereotypical image of beauty? Guys wouldn’t have sex with you if they didn’t respect you as a person."
Date: January 26th, 2007 2:57 AM Author: Lilac mildly autistic bawdyhouse
am i the only person here who would bang her? i'll admit that i would actively pursue her in a sober state of mind, but she seems like she'd be a fun person to meet at a party.
Date: January 26th, 2007 3:05 AM Author: Twinkling Idiot Headpube
the bitch does have an undeserved ego. its just pathetic when bitches mistake guys willing to fuck them while intoxicated to them being worth more than zero.
Date: January 26th, 2007 3:15 AM Author: Twinkling Idiot Headpube
it varies by picture. she has the same problem a lot of bitches have: she don't know which pictures are alrite and which are terrible. a few of her pictures are disgusting.
Date: January 26th, 2007 3:23 AM Author: Lilac mildly autistic bawdyhouse
i suppose. i'm around significantly more attractive girls on a regular basis (lol i don't go to harvard lol), but at a party she'd probably be fine. and yea, i agree with you about being into the slutty part.
Date: January 26th, 2007 8:25 AM Author: Twinkling Idiot Headpube
cantonese are closer to the equator. usually darker skin/more tanned. they are also shorter in general. northerners are generally taller and paler. their facial features are a little different. the cantonese are basically an upgraded form of vietnamese.
"MenuPages: What's your favorite Boston restaurant?
Lena: Blue Fin in Porter Square, which serves up fresh and affordable sushi (without drinks, it's a challenge to go over $25/person). My dad owns three sushi restaurants in San Francisco and I've been eating it for years. If there's anything I've learned, it's that bargain sushi can be hit-or-miss, but overpriced sushi is almost always all hype and no bite. I'm picky about the quality of my fish (dining hall California rolls don't make the cut) and I can tell you that my under-$20 meals at Blue Fin trump the $100+ dates at Uni any night. (And for the record, that is a ridiculous sum to spend on a first date!)"
Hm...I wonder if "dad" is restauranteur George Chen.
Date: January 26th, 2007 12:24 PM Author: white milk space
clearly, we need to start archiving her posts before she deletes them
Forbidden Fruit is in Season
Filed under: Sex, Kyle — Elle January 26, 2007 @ 5:55 am
I answered the door in a t-shirt and boyshorts. “Hey,” I said to my curly-haired visitor.
He glanced up and shook his head at my (lack of) attire before managing a “hi” with a smirk. It was 3 a.m. and there were no pretensions about why he was here.
Shortly after I ensured that he came with an alibi and condoms, we were wrangling each other’s shirts off, eager to finish the long cocktease I started the last time he landed late in my lap.
And then his phone rang. With mouth pressed against the back of his neck, I whispered, “Answer it.”
He glanced at the name and tossed the phone to the side, atop the small pile of clothing we had made. “Sorry,” he muttered. Within seconds, we were back at it. Grabbing, squeezing, breathing hard against each other.
I got on top and straddled him, half-playfully, half-aggressively. As I ran my fingers over his upper body, his torso twisted to follow the touch of my hand. Each graze of my mouth against his lower stomach elicited a gasp. I dipped my head and pulled down his jeans. He was wearing black boxer briefs, his erection perfectly outlined against the fabric. I turned my head to wrap my lips around his girth, the cotton acting as the only barrier between him and my mouth.
“Oh god,” he whispered as I following the length of his cock with my lips.. He was running his hands through my hair now, guiding me down. But I resisted the more he pushed. This is fun, I decided as I thumbed the tip of his erection. I was ready to finally deliver on my tease when his phone went off for the second time, emitting a low buzz as it vibrated over my carpet.
“Well?” I asked expectantly.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, before reaching over to flip it open and answer.
It was his friend, inquiring about his whereabouts at a most inopportune time. He responded tersely, as I impatiently rubbed his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” he said again when he hung up. I responded by tugging at his boxer briefs and revealing his cock inch by beautiful inch. I didn’t know where to start so I decided to aim low and work my way up. I flicked my tongue against the soft flesh at the base and moved my mouth up his shaft, leaving a trail of wetness behind. He was breathing hard now, grunting softly until I finally closed my lips over the head of his cock, inciting a low and hard groan.
He let out another one — more annoyed than turned on — when his phone rang again for the third unwelcome time. “What the fuck?” he answered.
While he talked to his pal, I had no intention of stopping the action on our end. I lowered my mouth over his cock and slid my lips over his shaft easily.
“Oh my god …” he groaned into the receiver. I was bobbing my head up and down while stroking his base with one hand. He lowered his head to look at me. “Fuck …” he said, still speaking into the phone. As I sped up my rhythm, he flipped the device shut — his friend still on the line — and watched me working his cock with my mouth. “Oh yeah, just like that,” he whispered. I sucked him off for a few more minutes before pushing him back on my bed and handing him a condom. I wanted to get fucked doggy style. In minutes, he had me on my knees.
- - -
As I straddled him in the afterglow of our encounter, I asked him what he wanted to be called on my blog if he ever warranted a mention. This was the first time I offered such a courtesy to anyone — close friends included, much less casual hookups. My hands tapping on his chest playfully, I waited expectantly for an answer. I already had a name in mind regardless but I was curious to hear what he’d say.
“Kyle,” he finally said after a few seconds of thought.
“What?” I almost fell off my bed from shock. “That’s exactly what I was thinking … did I already tell you?”
“No,” he replied casually. “I just thought it was a good, simple name.”
“That is so weird,” I said.
I shook my head. I could hardly believe it. But then again, Kyle left me bewildered with just about everything.
[For the rest of the Kyle series: Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV]
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Reader Poll: Despite the pseudonyms, do you guys know who the boys and girls of this blog are? Just wondering about the visibility of recurring characters like Adia, Terra, and JB.
Date: February 24th, 2007 3:44 PM Author: talented temple ratface
I LOLed reading this - seriously, out loud:
"This has got to be love. It's just got to be." Because really, if it's not love to have my cunt torn apart for non-life-threatening reasons, then tell me, what the hell is this elusive concept we call "love"?
also:
"Post-waxing, I left a hefty tip -- because really, who wants to touch that shit, especially my shit?"
"Take into account my morbid obesity by Asian girl standards..."
"My hookup of choice has made the poor decision of spending the holiday with his girlfriend."
"But hey, I’ve got it fairly easy as the proud owner of two boobs and three orifices. If I spread ‘em, they will come … where they’ll come is another matter."
I think this last one qualifies as the definition of "cum-dumpster"
"A reporter from The Harvard Crimson calls me for an interview about my opinion on the new campus abstinence movement. Apparently, writing about sex makes me an authority on it (Do I have a future as a professional talking head or what?)"
* Had a weekend affair with Sam — acronym for Secret Agent Man. Adventures included: nursing mutual hangovers via afternoon coffee, attempting to eat dinner at 4pm (and mostly failing but settling on Indian), hitting on my bartender at Smoke’s, consuming seven spiked Shirley Temples (my new favorite drink), trying to convince him to have sex in public after the alcohol took its toll, passing out with little recollection of my whereabouts, and having way too much sex (the afternoon, evening, the morning after …) He was fun, romantic, and a gentleman. Couldn’t ask for a better or more well-endowed late-night escort.
Filed under: Blogging — Elle June 10, 2008 @ 8:42 pm
toomuchawesome:
Will Harvard Turn Blind Eye to Patrick Hamm Case?
At Harvard, few have been hit by the urge to expose themselves than 20-year-old junior Lena Chen.
Over the past few months, Chen has blogged and twittered about a new man in her life: “Patrick.”
When she started posting pictures of her beau, “Patrick’s” identity immediately became obvious: Patrick Hamm, who holds a Teaching Fellowship with Harvard’s department of sociology.
That’s when Chen’s bloggings and twitterings added up to scandal.
Patrick Hamm teaches for the sociology department, where Chen is a student. Obviously, this violates Harvard’s policy on “Unprofessional Conduct Between Individuals of Different University Status.”
(via Alex)
I didn’t expect anyone with any modicum of common sense to disseminate these rumors further than they’ve already been disseminated, but clearly I was wrong. It’s bad that completely anonymous strangers with no stake in my life have chosen to so thoroughly gut it and put it on display on my behalf. It’s worse that perfectly intelligent people believe what they say and encourage this rumor-mongering by reposting the defamatory content. You guys work for thisrecording. Don’t you have to fact-check or something before you just post something to the Internet? Anyway, that’s enough, now. I’ve been ignoring this mess for two months and it’s time for an explanation. A long one.
Even Julia Allison, who epitomizes the trials and triumphs of blogebrity, said after a tumultuous Tumblr run that “none of this has been worth it.” I don’t know what I’ll eventually get out of Sex and the Ivy, or out of The Chicktionary for that matter, but I’m also reaching the point where I can no longer see any benefit to doing what I have been doing for the past 22 months. A book deal? A reality TV show? A job at some “edgy” new media company too self-congratulatory to actually be edgy? None of these options — and all of them have been offered — are terribly interesting to me, perhaps because they require that I sacrifice my independence and creative control. What I’d really like to do is to graduate and to become a nomad, to read what I want to read and to write what I want to write, and (most of all) to just be left alone, at least as far as my personal life is concerned.
That last thing has always been the problem from the beginning: people misunderstand my choice to reveal certain elements of my life. It does not entitle them to dig for the parts I do not share or to actively interfere in events that have nothing to do with them. That’s why it’s not worth it anymore, or at least, that’s why I’m approaching a point where things are no longer worth it. I used to get irritated by the harassing emails that ruined my day; I used to get angry when other people — be they Gawker or my classmates — just didn’t understand me. But those things I eventually got used to. Something far more sinister is happening now, a line I didn’t even know existed is being crossed, and it makes everything that has preceded it seem awfully trivial in comparison. I wrote in a letter to Kennedy recently:
I wonder, of course, if this is all worth it. I wonder this all the time, from the beginning really, since the stakes rose with every month and it seemed like any given moment in time was a huge risk, that that moment was really it, really as bad as it was going to get for me and was I in or was I out?
Well, nearly two years later, I’m pretty sure that that moment is, in fact, this one.
I started blogging publicly two years ago in August 2006. I had just been dumped by a Republican investment banker, was living at home in LA with my mother and then-14-year-old sister, and worked 40 hours a week at marketing and PR internships. Freshman year at Harvard sucked. I considered that summer recuperation. I was certain sophomore year would get better. I had, after all, just gotten out of my first adult relationship. Did I really need further preparation than that for my 19th year?
The answer was a resounding yes. I had no idea what my blog would turn into. People ask, “But you had to know. With a name like Sex and the Ivy, what did you expect?” Not this. I’m on the verge of 21 and this is not at all what I had in mind. Actually, I couldn’t have predicted Year 2 of the Blogging Life even after Year 1. Because the first 12 months, bipolar and destabilizing as they were, were still exciting and educational once you subtracted the agonizing heartbreak and emotional dysregulation that came with dead-end boys and public scrutiny. The second 12 months? Pretty smooth sailing except for the nagging feeling that my world could crumble at any second. And it did. Once, twice, and again.
Two of those apocalypses have been blog-induced. The first was the naked photo debacle. The second has been the systematic deconstruction of my most recent relationship in online forums. Actually, “systematic deconstruction” sounds much too fair for the circumstances. It sounds like some of the commentary might even have merit. In reality, trolls on my blogs are accusing the guy I’m dating of sexual harassment, assault, and general unethical behavior despite having nothing to go on but a blog entry with a disclaimer. Patrick’s identity (as in, pertinent information like his full name, address, and occupation) wasn’t even public until someone conducted a witchhunt and posted that information on Juicy Campus. Up until then, the most I showed of him on my blog had been the back of his head. And then various gossip blogs were emailed about our supposedly illicit affair (luckily, they had the good sense to ignore these “tips”). The rumor mill continued churning. Posters on the notoriously defamatory AutoAdmit decided to dismantle his entire life, our entire relationship. They took my blog posts about aggressive, consensual sex to mean that I was being coerced or assaulted when I’ve never so much as fought with Patrick or heard him raise his voice. The funny thing is, no one is actually concerned about my well-being, even if they pretend as if this “investigation” into my relationship is for my own good. How do I know their intentions? Well, for one, Patrick has received multiple emails telling him what an awful person he is. I’ve received nothing, and I’m supposed to be the grateful victim of this rescue effort. I ignored it all and assumed that anyone remotely relevant would never read the trash being written. Then the trolls began emailing people in Harvard’s sociology department, people in the administration, people Patrick works with. Strangers I only knew through names on course catalogs and official announcements read skewed accounts that portrayed Patrick like a predator. I can deal with criticism. This is complete invasion of privacy. This is defamation.
Why the hoopla? He is a graduate student and he used to be my teaching assistant, which makes our relationship about as scandalous as a senior dating a freshman. Nonetheless, it’s a fact that the Internet ate up, distorted, and spat back out. Google the mess. There are more pages than I care to read about this matter. This is the first time I’ve blogged about how we met or how we know each other. I assumed that doing so would just encourage rumors and inaccuracies, but now that things have escalated, there’s no reason to protect an open secret. So these are the facts: He’s 28, a Ph.D candidate in my department (sociology), and German by birth and citizenship. He owns a bulldog. He went to Yale. He used to lead my discussion sections and grade my papers. By the time we went out on our first date, it’d been months since he last did either. Far from punishing him, all university sources consulted in the ugly PR aftermath are on his side, have confirmed that he has broken no rules, and believe he probably has a case for libel. Contrary to internet speculation, he was not removed from the Graduate Student Council but resigned after a two-year term. His name is Patrick and the only error in judgment he’s made in this entire ordeal is dating a girl who writes a blog with detractors vile enough to not just interfere in her life but also in his.
Is that enough? Here’s more: We met in 2006 during my sophomore fall. My best friend and I whispered about the cute TF in between taking lecture notes, but Patrick was just a distraction from my 10-11am on Mondays and Wednesdays, not an actual fixation. He never made a move on me when I was his student. He had a girlfriend and was, after all, my TF. It wasn’t a possibility either of us considered. Our only personal interaction was office hours, where I first met his dog Hamlet. A year and a half later, neither ethical barrier remained. He found out about my crush by coincidence through a Q&A in The Crimson. Our first date was at The Beehive in Boston’s South End. I saw him again the next night. That first week, I spent four nights with him. And so on until we got to where we are now. What else? He makes me soy lattes in the morning. Half my life is currently stored in his basement. The only photos of us together are on Polaroids. We do grocery shopping at Deluca’s on Charles Street. We give each other books to read. He met Kennedy when he visited Germany last month and held me the numerous times I cried about her this spring. He is an atheist. What more do you want to know? He takes photos of me with a Leica M6. His sister is an artist. Enough? Or more? How much am I supposed to give to prove there is nothing to hide?
I have a blog where I write more of the truth than most people are ever willing to admit, but whatever I keep private is construed as controversy and scandal. I can’t date someone without being worried that his name will be published, and Patrick is not even the first to get “outed”. For all of the above reasons and many others, I see suicide on the horizon. Sex and the Ivy is not dead, but it’s on its way there. Two weeks ago, Bluehost shut down Sex and the Ivy because my scripts were running inefficiently (whatever that means). Patrick twiddled on my control panel, upgraded my Wordpress, called customer service for me, and convinced them to put it back up again. The guy whose reputation I’m ruining helped me fix the website that’s made him infamous by association. Think about that for a second.
I don’t know how many Patricks there are in the world, but I’m going to guess not many. And my friends? It might not seem too difficult to be buds with the local sex blogger, but acquaintances dropped like flies after I started blogging. Nowadays, I have a pretty good idea of who my real friends are, and their job is not easy. So I’m tired of making their lives even harder. I’m tired of making my own life harder. I’m tired of the word “libel” in bed, of forwarding each other defamatory emails and links, of discussing “legal options” over dinner. I’m tired of having to check Google alerts on his name. I’m not a masochist, and I’m certainly not a sadist. I can’t give anything anymore because people then expect everything. I’ll always write but I doubt Lena the Sex Blogger will survive the year, and as far as suicides go, this is one that will hardly be mourned.
I told him in the very beginning that I didn’t want to make his life complicated. I tried to explain about my blog, about the drama that had already ensued. He didn’t believe that it could get so bad. “What are you,” he teased. “Like E-list celebrity?” I laughed. I agreed it was ludicrous. But I’d been in the game long enough to know that people fixate on the most asinine things. I prepared him for the worst case scenario, but no amount of preparation could ready someone for the type of fallout that occurred here. If he left, it would be easy for me to be sad or bitter and to blame my blog for ruining my life. But he hasn’t left and if he does, it won’t be because of this. And so I find myself with an odd kind of burden. I can’t simply be sad or bitter. I have to do everything I can to make things as right as possible. Because caring about me is far harder than it should be, and yet still, he makes me soy lattes in the morning.