Today marks the 100th post. This is, I’ve determined, the first time I’ve created 100 of anything. Yes it’s true that one “creates” an outfit, but I stopped taking polaroids of them around #89.

Considering the occasion I figure it’s fitting to explain how this whole thing got started – how and why it seemed like a good idea to put the conversations inside my head and most bars on the online page for group consumption.

In the literal sense – Pierson made me start a blog because he thought our daily gchats and my column-length emails should be shared. He thought that, like Bob Dylan and Whitney Houston, we were hitting on issues that were at the heart of our generation’s plight. I agreed because it was a slow season at work and I really do love to write. Credit is due to Pierson, though. I came up with the name but he figured out how to use blogger, without which this would be not a blog.

But in the figurative sense – the seeds of this site were sown several years ago, in a healthy-sized common room of a Boston College dorm, at 4-something in the morning over a session of beer-induced sharing we would later term Sunday Night Sex Talks (god bless coincidence).

If memory serves me, it was just after a Drinking Survivor competition (like most genius things were). My college life partner Katie and I were, per usual, cooking Dutch pancakes for whatever collection of guys and girls were still awake. Typically we would sit around and talk about whatever collection of guys and girl were not still awake, but on this night the conversation somehow turned to hooking up.

In general the details of hooking up weren’t something we spoke about it detail with members of the opposite sex. In specific they weren’t something we spoke about at all with members of the opposite sex we’d hooked up with. Both applied to the group present.

It started vague – Katie: “Do you think guys and girls want the same things out of a hook up” but ended with the sort of specifics that would make the quote wall first thing the next morning – Berrini (a male): “I mean, do you honestly think you could be better at giving a hand job than us?!”

We laughed and argued and blushed. One of us may have taken notes. Another may have thrown up (from the beer, not the topics), but we all left feeling like we just had the best sex ed class of our lives.

And so by popular demand our Sunday Night Sex Talks continued. People found out and asked to be included. Other people found themselves in the right place on the right night for a very good time. Whomever the mix for whatever the forum slate, we opened up a lot and learned a whoa lot.

Katie and I likened ourselves to wise figures – like modern teachers of men to fish, albeit for better sex, healthier relationships, and a clue as to why some guys never call back.

I can say with certainty that I made one less mistake and two more smart moves (one literal 😉 ) from that point on because of those conversation.

Today we are generally sober and can’t fit a group larger than three in our living rooms. We also tend to go to bed by 10:30 on Sunday nights. But I thought, and old members agreed, that the time is riper than ever for open discussion of closed issues. Real-life topics like work and money that have been mixed in because they’re (sigh) now just as important as who’s hooking up with whom and how.  But the philosophy of those drunken Sunday nights remains:

To say and share what we’re thinking, feeling, and wondering – no apologies or holds bar – so that we might someday live non sexually-repressedly, openly communicatively, and less pissed-offedly ever after.