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Going out with a 'bang'

After today, the "G-Spot" is no more. Wipe away those tears, send distressed letters to the editor detailing your withdrawal symptoms and form support groups. What are you going to do without your bi-weekly dose of sarcastic sexual commentary? Fear not, for I am with thee. (Biblical allusion. Don't you love the irony?) Look me up. I'll ramble until you're begging for mercy.

But it's been a good run. I learned a lot, enjoyed myself, entertained some and pissed off many. It was fabulous.

Special thanks to all you prudes out there who really hated on me. Maybe someday you'll get lucky and understand. I appreciate those of you who read; I am always thrilled to hear from people who enjoy it. My goal is to make you laugh out loud at least once (as well as utilize a lame pun and/or alliteration), so I hope I have achieved success.

I received literally hundreds of e-mails. Complete strangers chastised my lack of chastity, while classy guys from across the country asked me out on dates.

Back when I told my mom that I got a column in The Cavalier Daily, she was excited. Then I told her what the column was about.

"I'll let you tell Daddy."

A lot of people identify me as "that girl from the sex column." However, you'd be surprised how many supposedly literate U.Va. students can't put two and two together. "You're that Gretchen?" There are only five undergraduate students named Gretchen at U.Va., folks. It's a small Wahoo world. There's also a picture of me. I mean, seriously.

Onto the boys: The first proposition I received was from some poor pledge whose brothers made him call me up and ask me to a date function. I declined. I'm sure they were asking Gretchen, the girl, as opposed to Gretchen, The Sex Columnist. No hidden agendas at all.

If I had a dollar for every guy who has offered to help me with "field research," I'd ... probably have spent it all by now, actually. But you get the point. I guess it's true that U.Va. still has that Southern, chivalrous charm. Virginia gentleme are a breed all their own, I tell ya.

Maybe being the sex columnist exudes the vibe that I'm not a good one to take home to Mom. Well, that's your loss, because ask anyone who knows me -- who really knows me -- and they will tell you that I'm going to be Supermom when I grow up. I'd actually choose donuts over sex almost any day. And I'm a really good girlfriend, if I do say so myself. References available upon request.

A wise woman (my mom) once said, "If you have to tell people about it, then you're not mature enough to be doing it." Some of you have yet to grasp this concept. I had barely parted ways with a sleepover Romeo, and lo and behold, my best friends already knew what had happened by the time I met up with them later that day. And I'm not talking just general notions. I swear, gossip about Gretchen Zimmerman travels like wildfire; it's actually quite a phenomenon.

My parents read my columns. We have a mutual agreement never to discuss them, however. They are unbelievably amazing in about a million ways, but mostly because they let me be myself. It's a shame they can't brag to their friends, "Look what our little Gretchen has accomplished at college!" It's okay. They're saving their dignity until I publish my book. How conservative of them.

Quick shout out of love and thanks to Claudia Frank for her perpetual English major ingenious for editing my columns for me. (Quite a catch, guys, give her a call.)

So here's some oh-so-expert advice from the famed CD "sexpert": Use condoms. Guard your heart and your genitals, as both can be damaged when it comes to sex. A friend's mother once told my friend, "It's not just some fun activity like making brownies." Don't judge people. Recycle. And always opt for donuts over sex.

Gretchen Zimmerman is a Cavalier Daily sex columnist. She can be reached at gretchen@cavalierdaily.com

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