Wendy Shalit ‘97 is blogging at the Modesty Zone. Wendy wrote on Friday:

We’ve talked about how modesty is prudery’s true opposite, right? Reserving sexuality for the sake of protecting its power, and so forth and so on. Well, lately I’ve been thinking that maybe promiscuity could really be related to asexuality–since without integrating the emotions, sex tends to be “no big deal.” We’ve certainly all seen examples of exhibitionism being perfectly consistent with a low sex drive.

Compare this to Liv Osthus’s ‘96 comments from last Sunday.

After the initial meet-and-greet, we are asked what issues we’d like to discuss in therapy. My guy says innocently enough that he’d like to have more sex.

I almost blurt out that he should go find himself another chick, but instead I hear myself saying, “I love sex!” Or at least, I explain, I did love sex, once upon a time, before I was writing a book and fronting a band and stripping almost every night and paying a mortgage and managing a household and trying occasionally to sleep.

…

I would love nothing more than to have my libido back, I tell them, and I’d welcome their guidance. But if my guy really wants sex, maybe he should come back when I’m 45 and not trying to juggle three all-consuming careers, hoping desperately to get one of them off the ground before the plug gets pulled on my biological clock.

…

“And what if I don’t want to? It’s not like it’s that enjoyable. I understand I’m supposed to want sex for the sake of our relationship, but the truth is I just don’t. And having sex when you don’t want to isn’t like other things, like massaging someone’s feet or cooking someone dinner just out of love for them. It feels violating to have sex when you don’t want to. Why should I want to have sex anyway? I’d rather fit in an hour’s worth of guitar or maybe a long walk.”

There are no easy answers here. But, at EphBlog at least, we are pleased and proud to offer commentary from Ephs like already-author Shalit and soon-to-be-author Osthus. The value here is in the conversation, not the conclusion.

One of the fun features of Sam Crane’s blog are his thoughts on the Modern Love column from the New York Times. I can hardly wait for his write-up on this one.

I’m a stripper by profession, a Williams College graduate of an especially liberal bent, and he’s a tattooed mortgage broker for the alternative crowd. At heart though, he and I are rock ‘n’ rollers: we each front our own band and have toured extensively. I know we are perfect candidates for the show. After all, couples therapy could use some rock ‘n’ roll, and we could use some couples therapy.

An Eph stripper? Could this be Viva Las Vegas, an EphBlog mystery of many months standing? Yes! [Album links below contain nudity.]

Not only am I a stripper, but I’m a relatively well-known stripper, who makes all of her bread and butter off the bump and grind and writing about the bump and grind. Under the name Viva Las Vegas, I’ve written about the sex industry for Exotic Magazine and The Village Voice. My band has an album called “The ‘I Need Sex’ Sessions.” Our second, “Coco Cobra and the Killers: Want You!” features a picture of me wearing a hat and boots — and only a hat and boots — on the cover. Sex is my stock in trade. Was I ready to admit on television (cable, but so what) that I rarely want to have sex?

Read the whole thing. (Hat tip to Jeff Zeeman for his earlier mention.)

Question: If Liv Osthus’s ‘96 book does well, will Williams award her a Bicentennial Medal? Should it?

Google does not know much about Osthus, but the Women’s and Gender Studies Department will appreciate (?) her participation in this debate almost a decade ago.

to post this article by the Eph alum with the most atypical career path. Based on her age, she was likely a classmate of mine, or close. Yet, I have never heard of her — either a function of my lack of coolness at college, (most likely), or else she grew up on Osthus Lane with a dog named Liv …

We are still trying to figure out whether Portland author (and stripper) Viva Las Vegas is an Eph.

Enquiring minds want to know! Viva writes:

December is my favorite time of year. The sun sets early in the afternoon and festivals of lights illuminate the night. It’s cozy; people move at a slower pace and even seem to be more kind and generous. Finally, the year ends, prompting everyone (journalists especially) to reflect.

Today, as I write from my usual perch at Huber’s, I too am feeling generous and nostalgic. The last year has been quite a ride–bumpy as hell but with some definite peaks, heights at which I could glimpse bits of the future. And the future looks dreamy, darlings, but some of the bumps have been heartbreakers.

…

[M]y relationship with management cooled considerably every time I was named “Portland’s Hottest Stripper,” “Best Reason to Visit Sin City” or “Best Butt.” Still, the Magic was home–a place I championed over all others and a place where Portlanders knew they could find me, whether they came in six days a week or had been away for six years.

In the end I was fired for breaking up a fight. Two gentlemen–an inebriated punk rocker and an inebriated New Orleansian–were ready to do battle over who got the chair at my rack. I–half-nude, onstage–talked them down, using my best conflict resolution tactics to persuade them that no chair was worth fighting over.

Indeed. Viva apparently has a book in the works. If she really is an Eph, we would be eager to help publicize it. Does anyone know if she really attended Williams?

A commentator yesterday compared our fancy new theatre to a strip club. Hmmm. I’m no architectural critic, but, if we have a strip club than we need some strippers.

It’s a tossup which is sexier — the way Viva Las Vegas exposes her body, or the way she exposes her mind. Both are pretty damn impressive. With her wicked sense of humor and the sharpened skills of her pen, Las Vegas defies the notion that all strippers are bubbleheaded twits. At night, the graduate of Williams College in Massachusetts sheds her clothes at Magic Garden; by day, she edits the local sex-trade publication Exotic; and in between, she slaves away on her book detailing her life as an exotic dancer. Her “I Y Las Vegas” column in Exotic dispenses words of wisdom to other dancers, while waxing philosophic about life and the universe.

This seems to be the column in question. Written by an Eph? We report, you decide.