Reader be advised: “Sierra’s Spicy Takes” is, as the kids might say, NSFW. Read at your own discretion.

How did I end up with a naked man in his mid-20s masturbating on my couch at 3 a.m.? How does anyone end up in that situation?

I swiped right on a University of California, Davis graduate student, whom we will call “Matthew,” one early evening. By 11 p.m., he was on his way to my apartment with Taco Bell for my best friend and I. As it turns out, that particular Taco Bell was the worst because my one item order was left off while my friends’ six item order was all there.

Fast forward to Matthew and I after my friend left. We met on Tinder, so there wasn’t a lot of need for talking before we got to the good bits. Making out is fine and dandy, but Matthew was handsome, well-spoken and I was game for more.

Have you ever considered what it might be like to try to shove some cooked spaghetti through a hot dog as opposed to stabbing it through uncooked and THEN cooking it all? That’s what it was like. Matthew just absolutely could not get it up. He eventually stopped trying (thank God) and asked if we can talk. As I’m always in it for a good story, I said, “Sure.”

Once we were both reclothed, he told me a 3-hour tale of how his ex had ruined him so thoroughly by cheating on him that he hadn’t been able to do anything sexual in months because he still loved her.

At this point, I was genuinely concerned for him, so I recommended him seeing a sex therapist and losing her number. He listened to both my advice and my stories of my own ex problems.

That’s when it got weird.

In my student-living apartment living room, Matthew said, “So before I go, I wanted to try something. Your bio says you’re kinky, right? Would you be down to help?”

Again, always down to try something once if it means a good story, I agreed.

I watched as he stripped down again, fully naked. I watched as he went to my bedroom desk, gathered tissues and returned laying down.

And then, he masturbated. I watched as I thought about my Taco Bell order.

Suddenly, the moment arrived. Matthew finished, exclaiming the now immortal two words I and several of my friends will never forget.

“I cummed!”

Say that out loud. “I cummed!” It has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

He was so proud of himself for finally being able to ejaculate. I was proud of him too.

I walked him out of my complex to his car, gave him a hug, wished him well and never heard from him again.  

So basically, I’m an absolute mess. But I also know what I’m talking about.

My hope for Sac State is that it becomes a more sex positive space where people can live their best lives in safe, fun ways. Where people in less-than-ideal or soon-to-be-better circumstances can ask for the guidance to get through the own rough times. Where we don’t demean each other for whatever questions we may have and instead look to people who are there to help. People like me.

My name is Sierra Savage, I’m the person who delivers these newspapers, but does none of the writing (until now). I’ve been at Sac State for long enough to know that this campus is way too uptight when it comes to expressing ourselves and our curiosities. For example, who are the people not picking up free condoms at Phlagleblast?

I’m also on what I believe to be a pivotal emotional journey this year with my New Year’s resolution to not be such a bitch in full swing.

Don’t worry, though; I’m still brutally honest.

In the past year, I’ve broken up with and gotten “back together” with a guy I had been seeing for two-and-a-half years only to break up again three months later. It gave me a lot of clarity as to how to be a better person and a better friend, which is what I think giving advice is all about.

I have a comprehensive journal of all of my sexual encounters since I lost my virginity in 2014, containing such entries as “I cummed,” “Emo X-Mas Card,” Accident Anal/First Time,” “Looked Like Evan on Tinder but Luis IRL,” “Short and During Parks and Rec,” “Fourth of July Breakdown” and “Had to Check ID.”

I am a staunch feminist, an LGBTQIA ally, and have spent $70 on sex toys this semester alone. My friends gave me the nickname “Tinderella.” When a friend asked me this summer if she should quit sleeping with white boys, I said “Let them into your pants, but not your heart.”

What I’m saying is I have the experience to back up my sometimes unconventional advice. So please, give me the questions you can’t ask anyone else. Let’s chat about the tea. I’m your new favorite confidant, and this is “Sierra’s Spicy Takes.”

To submit your questions to Sierra, click here or fill out below.

This post has been edited to note that Matthew is a pseudonym, and not the individual’s real name.