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After separating from my spouse, there are 3 reasons I'll never open a joint bank account again

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Couple at Outdoor CafeFights about money aren't uncommon in marriage and according to at least one survey, 70% of couples argue over financial matters from time to time.

If you share a bank account with your significant other, that may add to the stress if you're not on the same page about how to manage it.

Joint bank accounts can create even more problems if the relationship doesn't work out.

Having been through a separation in the last year, I found out first hand how easy it is to get burned when you've got all your assets mixed in with your spouse's.

I've since sworn off joint accounts for good, thanks to some costly lessons I learned along the way.

If you share a checking or savings account with someone, here's what you need to know on the off chance that things go south.

Joint accounts don't offer individual protections.

When you open a joint account, whether it's with a spouse, parent or anyone else you both have an equal share in its ownership. Any assets that go into it belong to each of you, regardless of who actually deposits the money.

That also means, however, that either one of you can pull cash out or transfer it to a different account whenever you like.

My husband and I shared a joint checking account and a joint savings account. As the primary breadwinner, he was responsible for most of what went into those accounts and it was my job to make sure all the bills were paid.

When the marriage ended, he withdrew half the amount in our savings account and moved it to a different bank. Because the account had both our names on it, the bank didn't ask any questions and I didn't find out about it until after it the transaction was completed.

While that was a pretty rude awakening, the most frustrating part was that it could have been avoided by making a simple change to the terms of the account. If you request it, you can have a joint account set up so that both parties must provide their signature any time a withdrawal is made through a teller. Had I done that, I still would have agreed to split the account evenly but at least I wouldn't have been caught off-guard.

Couple on Bikes by Water

You're both on the hook if the account ends up in the negative.

Since you and the person you've opened a joint account with are both considered equal owners of the assets, it makes sense that you'd also be equally responsible for its liabilities.

If one person is making purchases or withdrawals and the account ends up in the negative, the bank is going to start piling on the overdraft fees. Even if you're no longer using the account, you still technically owe those fees as long as it's in your name.

Following our initial separation, my husband and I weren't able to close our joint checking account right away. During the transition, I opened new accounts at a different bank and began using them to pay my bills. Meanwhile, he continued to deposit just enough money into the old account to continue paying certain bills that had been set up as automatic drafts.

When he eventually closed the account, there was an automatic payment pending that was allowed to go through. That triggered more than $300 in overdraft fees and the bank was only concerned with getting the money, not who actually owed it. Fortunately, we had been banking with them for some time so they agreed to waive the fees, but that was the exception, rather than the rule.

If the bank had been less cooperative, we would have had to pay the fees or else run the risk of the account showing up on each of our ChexSystems reports. Once you get a negative mark on ChexSystems, it can be much harder to get a bank account. In that scenario, a second chance checking account might be your only option.

Couple in Fight

Debt collectors don't care whose money is in the account.

Sharing a bank account can backfire if one of you isn't keeping up with your financial obligations. For example, if your spouse runs up a big credit card bill and doesn't pay, the creditor can sue to recover what's owed. That means any bank accounts in their name can be attached, including joint accounts.

Even if you're not legally responsible for the debt, you could still lose out if your joint account is garnished following a lawsuit.

Both my husband and I each had debts in our names, but fortunately we didn't owe anything jointly other than our mortgage. It was a good thing too because one of his credit card accounts was close to being charged-off. If the creditor had decided to sue while the joint account was still open, a garnishment could have negatively affected my credit if the account had gotten pushed into overdraft.

Tip: Certain deposits, including child support payments, unemployment benefits and Social Security benefits are exempt from bank account garnishments.

Final word

Joint bank accounts do offer some advantages in terms of convenience and simplicity but there is a certain amount of risk that goes along with opening one. Evaluating the pros and cons beforehand can help you decide whether combining your accounts makes sense.

SEE ALSO: The bad money choices we make for the people we love could do a number on our own wealth

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How to use science to catch a liar in the act

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Lance Armstrong

As sprinter Oscar Pistorius, charged with murdering his girlfriend a year ago, takes the witness stand in self-defense, we're forced once again to do the impossible: separate truth from untruth.

Is he lying, as he describes shooting Reeva Steenkamp through a closed bathroom door? Or was he, as he says, legitimately frightened, and protecting her from an intruder?

To tell the truth, it's awful hard to catch a liar — or to even know if someone is telling the truth. The best estimate, based on hundreds of studies, is that people can spot a liar 54 percent of the time — a ratio that is perilously close to pure chance. But with lies being told every day — to abet financial skullduggery, everyday politics and of course everyday crime — the business of truth-telling ought to be booming.

After all, researchers say "Deception is a major aspect of social interaction; people admit to using it in 14 percent of emails, 27 percent of face-to-face interactions, and 37 percent of phone calls. 1

We're not worried about white lies, the grease of the gears of human relationships. We're worried about lies like the cascade of chicanery uttered by Bernie Madoff, the prince of Ponzi, who was convicted of a decades-long fraud that fried investors for an estimated $18 billion. We're worried about bigwigs like former president Bill Clinton, who lied when he said, "I did not have sex with that woman," and his predecessor Richard Nixon, who lamely (and laughably) proclaimed, "I am not a crook" as the Watergate scandal closed in.

And we're worried about athletes like Lance Armstrong, the erstwhile king of the Tour de France. After years of denials, he finally admitted that he, like many fellow bike racers, had been chemically enhanced.

Detection inflection

Truth is, after decades of work, the lie detection biz is floundering. "Reliable" techniques come and go. For decades, the instrument called the lie detector has been a mainstay of cop shows and station houses, but it's fallen from favor with the recognition that it can be beaten. Meanwhile, other supposed "tells" of untruth, such as avoiding eye contact or scratching certain parts of the face, are easily avoided by practiced liars.

"There is a huge literature of studies suggesting we are very poor" at lie detection, says Leanne ten Brinke, a post-doctoral fellow at the University of California-Berkeley school of business. "If I show you 10 videos and five show people lying and five show them telling the truth, your accuracy will be 50 percent. Flip a coin; don't bother watching the video. It's discouraging."

Professionals don't necessarily do much better, ten Brinke and colleague Stephen Porter wrote: 2 "even trained professional lie catchers often fail in detecting high-stakes lies."

ten Brinke and Porter added that when researchers showed police officers clips of people who, like the Canadian Michael White, had pleaded for help locating a spouse who had disappeared, "the officers could have flipped a coin and performed as well." Courts later ruled that White and many of the other "pleaders" had murdered the "vanished" person.

Lying: Why so convincing?

"Deception is a very complex human behavior and in spite of years of pondering over how to spot a lie, we humans, are not very good at this task," according to Victoria Rubin, assistant professor of information and media studies at the University of Western Ontario, London, Canada. Her email continued, "Computer programs can bring systematic ways of looking for what might give away a lie, but there is no simple solution. There is no real consensus among researchers in the field about what these best predictors of deception might be."

One reason for the difficulty, Aldert Vrij wrote in email, is that "People are good liars because they have a lot of practice, and practice makes skill." Vrij, a professor of applied social psychology at the University of Portsmouth in the United Kingdom, added that, "People lie every day (many white lies but also more serious lies) and children are instructed to lie (white lies) by their parents from a very early age (‘pretend you like the present grandma gave you')."

Liars notice if listeners swallow their spiel, "and people can learn from accurate feedback," says Vrij.
So what do we know about deception detection? What seems to work, and when? As we survey the human quest to ferret out lies, we'll focus on psychological tests, computer analysis of text and video, and advanced interrogation techniques.

Naturally selected?

You might think we humans have an advantage, since the ability to detect lies would seem essential enough to be favored by evolution. "We thought natural selection would promote this ability," ten Brink says, "and we also thought that for lie detection to be accurate and adaptive, it did not necessarily need to be conscious; you don't need alarm bells going off in your head, it could be subtle, so when you hear someone speak, you don't really trust them, don't feel like you want to lend them money or go on a second date."

To test that premise, ten Brinke and colleagues looked for implicit associations — concepts that are triggered by exposure to something in the environment. For example, if you harbor stereotypical feelings about green people, after seeing a photo of a green person, you would be more likely to understand, choose or recognize words that express your discriminatory feelings, like"bad,""nasty" or "untrustworthy."

In two studies, the conscious ability to distinguish truth from fiction was no better than chance, ten Brinke says, but "people responded faster to ‘truth' words after they saw a truthful video, and to ‘lie' words after they saw a lying video. This suggests that the unconscious mind does discriminate."

The "moral is that we might be better lie detectors than we thought, but the ability does not live in our conscious mind," ten Brinke said. The study might support a tactic of "going with your gut," but the false confessions uncovered by DNA tests show that this attitude among police investigators has put innocent people in prison. "I'm very unclear about the implication," says ten Brinke. "This does create a new interesting perspective on humans as lie detectors and opens a bunch of potential avenues. Can we look at the behavioral reaction of the receiver of a message to determine something about the veracity of the sender?"

How high are the stakes?

Many studies of lie detection are criticized because the subjects are, too often, college students who are asked to lie about trivialities. Critics question the realism of that setup, and argue that, lacking sufficient emotional stress, subjects fail to reveal the "tells" that often accompany high-stakes, real-world lies.

"The behavioral cues to deception tend to be quite subtle, especially when the lie is not high-stakes," ten Brinke told us. "When students come to the lab and tell a lie about their summer vacation, that's not high stakes. Unless it means a lot to you, you are not worried about being caught and might not leak any clues."

To deception researchers, "leak” means to unintentionally reveal a telltale sign of lying.

While researching her dissertation, ten Brinke focused on high stakes liars by studying videos of people who had issued a televised plea for help finding a loved one. Half of the 78 cases were genuine. In the other half, the pleader was later found to have murdered the disappeared person.

The pleader videos contained "pretty clear cues to deception," ten Brinke told us. "Deceivers smiled more; that's a very unlikely emotion for someone who's genuinely disturbed. They were unable to replicate genuine sadness in the face. There are muscles that are very difficult to control, so they were not able to pull off that look of sadness, particularly in the forehead."

Still, the tells were difficult to catch in real time, she adds. "My study was frame by frame, a very exhaustive, expensive analysis." Working in real time is "a very difficult task" so "videotaping is always recommended. The cognitive load [mental work] for the lie detector is incredibly high, especially if you are in conversation, and looking for an appropriate question, and examining the speech pattern and body language all at once."
The face, she says, is "an incredibly valuable cue to deception if you know what to look for; it can tell you a ton of interesting information."

Ken Lay was CEO of Enron Corporation, an energy firm that collapsed in scandal in 2001 in what was then the largest bankruptcy in American history. Lay is shown listening to a question outside of the U.S. Courthouse in Houston after the close of his bank fraud trial May 23, 2006 in Houston, Texas. After being convicted of 10 counts of fraud, conspiracy and making false statements, Lay died on July 5, 2006.

The interview

Much of the focus in criminal deception detection today concerns the interrogator, not the subject. One goal is to increase the subject's “cognitive load" (need to think fast) during interrogation. One way to do this, Vrij says, is to ask people to recall the event in reverse order. "‘You said you went for lunch with your friend. Tell me in detail what happened in the restaurant [working backward] from when you and your friend left the restaurant?'"
With cooperative witnesses, Vrij wrote us, reverse order recall often results in new information, but liars "will attempt to say again what they said when asked in normal order.

This is difficult to do and may lead to contradictions. Also, because liars focus on repetition, it is unlikely to result in new information."

Indeed, Vrij says, finding lies "Is all in the questioning. Through good interview techniques, deception may become apparent, but poor interview techniques are unlikely to elicit cues."

For example:

- Passive or general questions, like "Tell me in detail all that happened,""give liars the opportunity to report their planned lie," Vrij says.
- Leading or suggestive questions, like "Did you take the money?" can cause symptoms of nervousness among liars and innocents alike.

(Scientists interested in interrogations 3 have tried to evaluate the ability of various techniques to uncover lies. More recently, sparked by capital-case confessions that were later proven false by DNA evidence, researchers have tried to identify techniques that coerce the innocent to confess. One key offender: interrogators who falsely claim to have incriminating evidence.)

Computer vision? ***

It’s the computer age.

So what can our digital slaves add to the enigma that is deception detection? Computers may lend a hand in analyzing the highly expressive human face, which nonetheless baffles most human efforts to detect lies. Aware that slackers seeking disability benefits often lie to doctors about pain, Kang Lee, at the Institute of Child Study at the University of Toronto, asked subjects to show real or faked pain. "The question was, when humans express a genuine emotion, do they use one group of muscles, and when they express fake emotions, do they use a different group of muscles?" Lee explained. (The experimenters immersed subjects' hands in cold water, which Lee says is "very painful, but safe.")

Because pain is a universal experience, "We are very well versed in faking pain," Lee says, which makes the task tough for deception detectors. When Lee trained people to analyze the videos, their accuracy rose from chance to 56 percent. "It was very poor, and that's been found before," he says.

The old-fashioned "lie detectors" measure sweating, respiration and heart rate, which indicate heightened "arousal" caused by the state of deception — or something else. Critics say the detectors are far from foolproof. Here, Igor Matovic, member of the Slovak Parliament, demonstrates his recent lie-detector test during a press conference on February 23, 2012, in Bratislava, Slovakia.

By using machine learning, Lee, working with Marnie Bartlett of the University of California, San Diego, taught computers to detect deception with 82 percent accuracy. "That's a big leap forward, and it tells us there are signs in the facial expression that can tell us if they faking or are experiencing pain for real," Lee says.
Frame-by-frame video analysis revealed that real and faked pain have different expression. "When faking, the mouth opens with a very regular, rhythmic dynamic," Lee says, which does not appear with real pain.

That subtle distinction shows the advantages of computer vision, he says. The computer "can remember frame by frame; our cognitive system has a low capacity, we can't remember these dynamics, and the mouth is only one part, we also have to look at the eyes, the nose the cheeks and the words. That is lot of information to compute concurrently."

The words have it!

In a recent study, Lynn Van Swol, an associate professor of communications arts at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, found that lies were easier to detect by computer chat than from watching a video.
Why? "There may be just too much to analyze in a video," says Van Swol, "and that takes away from probably one of the best indications, what the person is saying, and putting it in context."

The context includes common sense and knowledge of the world. Say, while trying to decide if someone was truthful, you asked about favorite pastimes and were told, "I like to write poetry.""You might think, how many people could truthfully give that response?" says Van Swol, "rather than looking at whether his eye is twitching or he's scratching his chin." Poetry is a scarce avocation, so that answer is a possible — but hardly conclusive — tell of deception.

Trust a computer?

Computers can also analyze text, looking "for a pattern of objectively-observed predictors of deception," as Rubin wrote to us. For example, if it's true that liars try to avoid the first-person pronouns "I" and "we," a computer can quickly examine text to look for an abnormally low number of first-person pronouns. The pronoun theory is debated, and Rubin agrees that any one indicator is not definitive, but rather "should contribute towards the overall decision making – is this given text truth or a lie?"

Computers, she notes, are fast, consistent and obedient. They have "a certain type of objectivity, assuming the programmer instructs the program based on scientific consensus, and not his or her personal opinions. Computer programs can be trained to look through large volumes of data, observe patterns, and make certain conclusions on which to base their further decisions."

Using this so-called "machine learning, Rubin and colleagues created software that detected 65 percent of lies, somewhat better than the 50- to 63-percent performance from people in the same study.4

What might account for the slight advantage for computers? People, Rubin wrote, "are not necessarily objective, nor systematic, nor do we know what exactly to look for to spot a lie. We quite often rely on intuition. We are subjective and have emotions; for instance, liking an idea might help us validate it. We might misinterpret cues. We multi-task as we read — we need to understand what is said and perhaps think how it's phrased, make connections to what we already know, remember what we've read in order to evaluate its veracity. Ultimately, the task is cognitively taxing and we are just human."

But being human has advantages, Rubin adds. We have "the powers of true comprehension of the situation in a life context and the ability to see the big picture, to reason and be self-aware. Say, someone is stating the opposite of what's obviously true. A human knows to interpret it as sarcasm and how to react to it and what it actually means."

Between crime, sports and politics, the need to detect deception is not fading away. And Rubin reminds us of another playground for deceit. "We communicate and get our information via computer and mobile devices. We are unsuspecting, truth-biased [tending to believe what we read, in other words], and potentially vulnerable to online predators, spammers, scammers, and opportunists with malevolent deceptive intentions."

Bibliography

  1. The truth about lies: What works in detecting high-stakes deception? Stephen Porter and Leanne ten Brinke, Legal and Criminological Psychology, Volume 15, Issue 1, pages 57–75, February 2010 
  2. The truth about lies: What works in detecting high-stakes deception? Stephen Porter and Leanne ten Brinke, Legal and Criminological Psychology, Volume 15, Issue 1, pages 57–75, February 2010 
  3. Interviewing suspects: Practice, science, and future directions, Saul M. Kassin et al, Legal and Criminological Psychology, Volume 15, Issue 1, pages 39–55, February 2010 
  4. Discerning truth from deception: Human judgments and automation efforts, Victoria L. Rubin and Niall Conroy, First Monday, Volume 17, Number 3 – 5 March 2012, http://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/3933/3170 
  5. Detecting lies: From chewing rice to scanning brains 
  6. New strategies expose liars by adding to the load 
  7. Liars' brains make fibbing come naturally 
  8. Quiz: Can you spot the liar? 
  9. At airports, a misplaced faith in body language 
  10. Better liars are better at spotting lies 

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One big sign shows your partner is truly committed to you

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Couple

Why do we make sacrifices for our loved ones?

Research tells us that our commitment is what motivates our willingness to sacrifice.

Sacrifice, after all, is really about navigating a conflict of interest. We encounter these conflicts of interest when our own personal needs and goals are incompatible with those of our partner or our relationship overall (e.g., continuing to watch our favorite Netflix show vs. helping a partner prepare for a job interview).

In order to sacrifice, we have to resist the gut-level urge to act selfishly and instead focus on the long-term benefits to our relationship.

Of course, some sacrifices are easier to make than others. Taking out the trash for a spouse doesn’t take the same kind of effort as helping him or her fill out tax forms. Just because we’re motivated to address our partner’s needs does not necessarily mean we can.

Forgoing self-interest can require a great deal of mental effort, orexecutive control. Executive control is a label psychologists use for a collection of mental abilities that help people work toward achieving their goals. This includes things like resisting temptation (e.g., not eating cake if you’re on a diet), switching quickly between tasks (or multitasking), and remembering new information.

Researchers in the Netherlands were interested in learning whether executive control also enables sacrifice in relationships. In a first study, they asked 44 young adults in relationships to fill out a survey about their relationship commitment and then complete at tricky task to test their level of executive control. So, how did this task work?

Basically, they were shown words on a computer screen one at a time, written in blue, red, or white font. The words themselves were either emotional (e.g., “smile”) or non-emotional (e.g., “table”). If a word was white, they had to press one of two keys to categorize it as emotional or non-emotional. If a word was blue or red, they had to press one of two keys to categorize it as blue or red. So, white words had to be classified by meaning, and blue or red words had to be classified by color. Because this task requires keeping a lot of separate information and categories in your head, it takes a good deal of executive control. People who categorized more words correctly were considered higher in executive control.

Next came the sacrifice task. People were shown two similar pictures and were asked to find the difference between them, just like in children’s games. If they found the difference, they could win their partner a prize. The twist was that the two pictures were identical (sneaky researchers). So the participants could either persist for a long time at this frustrating challenge, or they could give up but not win a prize for their partners. Those who spent more time looking were given higher scores for sacrifice (because they pushed on through the impossible task just to benefit their partners).

In their second study, the researchers brought in couples together. Couple members also filled out commitment surveys, but this time did a different executive control activity. They were shown 45 letters on a screen, one at a time. For every letter they saw, they had to press one of two buttons indicating whether that letter was the same or different from the letter they saw two letters ago (again, a lot to keep in you head!).

Then, to measure sacrifice, one partner was randomly chosen to do a frustrating task, while the other could watch entertaining videos. The frustrating task required typing out random strings of text for as long as possible (“7seww9vYLzIvv9N2Vyg”). They were told they could stop whenever they wanted, but then their partner would have to stop watching the fun videos and take over. Because there would be obvious consequences to their partner if they stopped doing the frustrating task (i.e., the partner would have to take over), the sacrifice here was even more meaningful than in the previous study (where stopping the task only meant the partner didn’t win anything). The more text strings the participant typed out, the higher their sacrifice score.

In both studies, the researchers found that partners who had greater executive control sacrificed more. They searched longer for the difference between the identical pictures and they typed out more letter strings. Partners who reported more commitment on the surveys also sacrificed more, but executive control was more strongly related to their sacrificing behaviors.

Overall, these studies showed that commitment to a partner isn’t always enough on its own to promote sacrifice, especially when the sacrifice requires considerable time and effort. While sometimes it seems like we can effortlessly and automatically meet our partners’ needs, there are other times when we have to exert some extra mental effort to get past our own self-serving desires. So, even if it might take a little extra work to abandon your Netflix cue, the effort you put in to helping your partner could pay off big time for you both.

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Science figured out the type of person who falls in love the fastest

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Young love

Millions of people take to the bars, coffee shops and internet sites of the world looking for love.

Finding that love connection isn’t always easy because your new found guy may end up having too many Star Trek figurines or your new found gal may have one too many cats.

While there are seemingly a million things that can go wrong, people do fall in love.

But is it possible that some people fall easier than others?

How They Did It

To answer this question, researchers from UCLA surveyed over 350 men and women (average age ~30) about their experiences with falling in love.

Researchers defined love for the participants as “A very powerful emotional experience that might include excitement and anxiety, tender feelings and physical attraction toward a particular person, constant thoughts of the person, and an intense desire to be around the person.

Participants then answered a question about whether they typically fell in love quicker than their partner, participants also listed the number of people with whom they have been in love, how many times they experienced “love at first sight”, and how many of their “loves” led to a relationship.

Researchers also asked about the importance of physical attractiveness and how many times the participants mistakenly overestimated another person’s interest in having sex with them.

What They Found

Results of the study indicate that men and women reported a similar number of lifetime “loves” and similar occurrences of falling in love first. However, compared to women, men reported physical attractiveness was more important and were more likely to mistakenly overestimate sexual interest from another person.

Men also reported more occurrences of “love at first sight” and were more likely to fall in love without a partner reciprocating that feeling. Men who were more likely to overestimate females’ sexual interest fell in love more frequently, while women did not show a similar pattern.

Men who place more importance on physical attractiveness fell in love first in their relationship more often when they thought they were with a highly attractive partner. Finally, women with a higher reported sex drive also reported falling in love more frequently.

What Does This Mean?

Overall, men seem to fall in love easier than women, but why? It may be that men fall in love easier because they think being in love is important to women. Thus,men fall in love is a way to show female partners that they are committed to the relationship.

The fact that men were more likely to fall in love when they over estimated sexual interest suggests that a man may be more likely to have interest in a women once he believes she has sexual interest in him. That is, the way to a man’s heart is through his…well you know.

Of course it is also possible that men who fall in love more easily are also inclined to overestimate sexual interest as a way of validating his own feelings.

Though there may be true differences between men and women, it is also possible that this study tells us more about who falls in “lust” more easily. The researchers definition of love focuses heavily on the more passionate aspects of love such as powerful emotions, attraction, excitement, and intense desire. It is possible that a study focusing on more companionate or friendship-based love could yield a different pattern of results.

After reading about this study, it may seem obvious to you that men fall in love easier than women. But if I had asked you earlier, “who falls in love more easily, men or women?” would you have answered “men”? Maybe you would have, but what about others you know. Give it a try and then set the record straight with a little science.

Reference: Galperin, A. & Haselton, M. (2010). Predictors of how often and when people fall in love. Evolutionary Psychology, 8, 5-28.

A version of article was previously published on lovestruck.com.

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How many sexual partners the average person has

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kissing, flirting, couple, relationshipEvery Friday on the blog, I answer people’s questions about sex, love, and relationships. This week’s question comes from a reader who wanted to know:

“How many sex partners do men and women usually say they’ve had?”

Great question! Let’s take a look at a couple of nationally representative U.S. surveys for the answer. Specifically, let’s compare the National Health and Social Life Survey (NHSLS), which sampled over 3,000 persons aged 18 to 59 during the 1990s, and the National Survey of Family Growth (NSFG), which surveyed over 13,000 individuals aged 15 to 44 between 2006 and 2008. Different surveys ask about sexual partners in different ways and use different samples, so it is useful to consider a few sets of results.

Let’s begin with the NHSLS. These findings reveal that most U.S. adults are sexually active. In fact, 97% of men and women surveyed reported having had at least one sexual partner during their lives. The vast majority of male participants (67%) reported having 10 or fewer total partners, and the vast majority of female participants (70%) reported having 4 or fewer partners. For a more detailed look at the results, check out the table below.

NHSLS: Lifetime Number of Sex Partners

Data Source: National Health and Social Life Survey

DATA SOURCE: NATIONAL HEALTH AND SOCIAL LIFE SURVEY

Next, let’s take a look at the more recent NSFG. Here, we see a very similar pattern of results. However, it is important to note that participants’ ages differed across these two studies (15 to 44 in the NSFG vs. 18 to 59 in the NHSLS), and the researchers used slightly different response options when asking about number of partners. Although these two sets of findings aren’t completely comparable, they paint a pretty similar picture. Again, the vast majority of participants were sexually active (more than 90% of men and women), and most men (57.3%) and women (74.55) reported fewer than 6 lifetime total partners. See the table below for more detailed results.

NSFG: Lifetime Number of Sex Partners

Data Source: National Survey of Family Growth

DATA SOURCE: NATIONAL SURVEY OF FAMILY GROWTH

One thing that stands out in both sets of findings is a consistent sex difference: women are more likely to report having had only one partner, whereas men are more likely to report having had 10 or more partners. Why is this the case? One possibility is that perhaps men and women define “sex” or “sexual partner” in very different ways and are therefore counting very different things. An alternative possibility is that men feel social pressure to overreport and women feel pressure to underreport—in other words, social pressure may lead people to be less than truthful. As some support for this idea, research has found that when men and women are asked about their sexual histories while hooked up to a supposed lie-detector device, the difference between the sexes becomes much smaller.

In short, although the statistics above may represent the best available information we have on number of sexual partners, the reality is that the difference between the sexes may not be quite as big as it first appears.

For previous editions of Sex Question Friday, click here. To send in a question for a future edition, click here.

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Who pays for the first date is 'a shortcut to figure out what the other person is thinking'

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Happy Couple on Date at Restaurant

During the past 50 years, women have made great strides towards equality in the workplace.

But when it comes to dating between men and women, most men still pay for the majority of expenses at the beginning of a relationship.

In a day and age when women are increasingly financially independent, why are they still not picking up the dinner tab?

Porscha Kazmierzak is one of the many women who still think that men should pay on a first date, even though she identifies as a hard-core feminist.

"If somebody offers to pay for my meal, I'm thinking this person is considerate and they are maybe going to take care of me," she says. "If I insist on paying on a first date, it's because I’m not interested."

The tradition of paying for dates is a "short cut to figure out what the other person is thinking," says Rita Seabrook, a PhD student in women's studies and psychology at the University of Michigan.

Seabrook says when a man pays for dinner, it sends clues to the other person such as, "I like you" or "I want us to be more than friends." It makes things seem comfortable and certain when dating can feel so uncomfortable and uncertain. So the tradition has stuck around. But so has its other — more subtle — message.

Couple Ice Cream Date"Men are expected to make a lot of money," says Seabrook. "And women are expected to value men who make lots of money."

Evan Major used to think these ideas never really affected him. Then he lost his job at the same time he was dating someone new. When they went out, sometimes he would pay as much as he could. Other times, his girlfriend would cover his half. This challenged his sense of self.

"There is such a tight link between financial security and the identity of a man," he says.

But after the beginning of a relationship, men and women usually start to do things differently.

"Couples start to split somewhere in the first six months," says Dr. David Frederick, a professor of psychology at Chapman University.  

But when it comes to changing gender norms, things move slowly.

"Causing those to change, I think, is a very long process that we've seen starting over the past 50 years," says Frederick. 

But Frederick says as long as we continue to see a shift towards more gender equality in the workplace, there's no reason why we shouldn't also see the same shift at the dinner table.

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The ugly truth behind the notion of the 'dream job'

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cinderella

Americans have some odd notions.

Take, for instance, the dream job.

"We all want a dream job,"performance strategist Laura Garnett writes at Inc.

"Just like finding that one great love," she says, "it's a goal that virtually everyone has."

As you can tell from Garnett's comparison, the dream job is a romantic idea.

Like the pursuit of "that one great love," it's misguided, unrealistic, and self-defeating.

Let's dig into it.

The "one great love" sentiment is another way of talking about a "soul mate" or "better half."

It goes back to Ancient Greece, some 2,300 years ago.

In Plato's "Symposium," the playwright Aristophanes says:

Each of us when separated, having one side only, like a flat fish, is but the tally-half of a man, and he is always looking for his other half.

When one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself ... the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together.

Sounds familiar, right?

It was handed down through fairy tales like Cinderella, where the glass slipper fits only the prince's one true love.

Yet couples psychologists John Gottman and Peter Pearson agree that this fairy tale has been a disastrous model for relationships.

"There's a cultural attitude where if you find the right person, you shouldn't have to work" on the relationship, says Pearson, a cofounder of the Couples Institute in Menlo Park, California.

"Because at the beginning you didn't have to work; it was easy and effortless," he says. "If you find the right person, [you think] it should stay that way. It's the happily-ever-after imprint. If you're with the right person, it will take care of itself."

That same hope animates the quest for the dream job.

The script goes something like this: If you find the right gig, it will satisfy all of your needs and you won't have to work a day in your life. You'll feel so fulfilled, content, and creative that you'll have no choice but to give a TED Talk about how you arranged your life in the perfect way.

But looking for everything you need in a single person or job creates a ton of pressure, and according to "How to Find Fulfilling Work" author Roman Krznaric, it's unsustainable.

"The mythology of the soul mate ratchets up our expectations of what that relationship should be," Krznaric says, "that you should try and find all your loving needs in one person — the romantic partner and the best friend and the person you can have children with and a playful relationship with and so on."

It "inevitably fails," he says, "because we can't meet those expectations."

Similarly, Krznaric notes, if you look at the surveys asking what people want from their careers, certain themes come up again and again, like quality relationships, autonomy, creativity, status, recognition, and money.

It's hard to find all of those criteria in a single job.

Recognizing that, you could opt for a "portfolio career," where you do several jobs at the same time. For instance, you might freelance articles to magazines and run digital strategy for a brand during the week and then teach yoga and cooking classes on the weekend.

Or you could satisfy those different parts of yourself by combining career and leisure pursuits. Krznaric uses the American poet Wallace Stephens, who wrote "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," as an example.

"He was an insurance company executive by day and an avant garde poet by night," Krznaric says. "When he won the Pulitzer Prize in 1955, and he basically could have gotten a full position at Harvard to write poetry for the rest of his life, he turned it down and kept up his insurance company job because he didn't want to depurify his creative act as a poet."

Like Stephens, you could find your desire for financial security and status in your career, and then find your need for freedom and expression outside the formal workplace.

The approach works for Krznaric. "I do a lot of public talks, and I'm not one for seeking status and recognition, but being in a public light to some extent is reaffirming of what I do," he says. "But as a writer, I'm sitting quietly in my study as I am now, in an attic in suburban Oxford, and no one sees what I'm doing and it's a very internal process, struggling with words. These various parts of my life satisfy the different selves that I have."

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Analyzing over 5,500 emails with her boyfriend taught this statistician two big lessons about love

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Candy heart email me broken

As a scientist who studies online-dating data, I’ve spent a lot of time quantifying how other people fall in love. I began to wonder whether it was possible to apply the same methods to my own relationship. I told myself it was for the sake of science: I was acting out of professional curiosity, and would understand others’ relationships better by putting myself under the mathematical microscope.

But it would be more honest to admit it was also because I missed my boyfriend. After spending three years at college with him, I had left to study for a year at Oxford; this was my equivalent of flipping through photo albums.

But what data to use? We rarely text or take pictures. But in the four years since we began dating, we’ve exchanged an average of four emails a day, which works out to more than 5,500 emails. If we had just typed out literature to each other, we would’ve recently completed Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, though we won’t finish Infinite Jest for another six years or In Search of Lost Time for another 19. When I told my boyfriend I wanted to statistically analyze our emails, we had the following conversation:

Him: I think you should ask my permission to do that.

Me: I wouldn’t ask your permission to read the emails. Why should reading them using a computer be any different?

Him: You’re going to find some weird pattern and break up with me.

Me: Either that will be warranted by the data, in which case it’s a good thing, or it won’t, in which case I’m a bad statistician. Are you saying I’m a bad statistician?

This is what scientists call “obtaining consent.”

It was dark and drizzling when I walked back alone to my Oxford dorm room, curled up around my laptop, and dove into the digital record of our relationship. I was unsurprised to find that our emails became more frequent after I left for England. But I felt a jolt when I discovered that I sent my boyfriend far more emails than he sent me.

I called my boyfriend and asked him why, according to the data, I missed him more than he missed me.

I closed my program, made myself a cup of tea, called my boyfriend, and asked him why, according to the data, I missed him more than he missed me. He said that wasn’t true, he just preferred to talk on the phone rather than send me emails. I went back to the data to see if it substantiated his claim, and indeed it did: He used “call me” and “phone” more frequently in his emails.

couple, relationship

Having avoided one potential breakup, I returned to the data and looked at how the average length of our emails changed over time. I found large spikes corresponding to the first three times we were apart for our university’s spring, summer, and winter breaks. These lengthy emails turned out to be, unsurprisingly, the sort of pour-your-soul-out messages that accompany first infatuation. The content of the emails changed over time in other ways as well. For example, we used the word “promise” more frequently early in our relationship, often to make the sort of charming but trivial pledges that build trust—“I promise not to kill you,” or “I promise never to make you go to a yacht club.” On the other hand, we began to use nicknames and endearments only later in our relationship—promises replaced by pet names.

Then I wondered if differences in our personalities would show up in our emails. I compared the words I used with the words he used; this revealed that, contrary to gender stereotypes, I am probably more aggressive. I am responsible, for example, for more than 95 percent of the profanity in our emails. He is much more likely to use the phrase “I am not sure,” and is also responsible for 60 percent of the incidences of “sorry.” I have a penchant for bleaker topics, and am more likely to mention “pain,” “cancer,” and “suicide.” I am also more likely to make sweeping generalizations about men, as evidenced by my more frequent use of “boys” and “male.”

We each bring up our interests: He, the quadrilinguist, mentions Greek, Latin, and Italian. I use words related to statistics. Our language is distinctive in other ways. He, the New Englander, is much more likely to use the word “dandy” (as in Yankee Doodle); I, who when comfortable with someone begin talking like a frat boy, am much more likely to use the word “bro.”

To avoid getting dumped, I will stop sharing details of our emails and will instead share two larger lessons I learned about love. The first is that statistics can be unexpectedly, painfully powerful. I had long known the joy of slicing out truth with a statistical scalpel, but here the heart I’d cut into was my own. Whydoes my boyfriend apologize more than I do? Why have our emails gotten shorter? What if I still want promises, not just pet names? Another statistician of love, the founder of the dating site OkCupid, once said that analyzing people’s relationships made him “very grim” because he had to “embrace the darkness.” I always found this a bit melodramatic, but perhaps he simply empathized better than I did with the lovers who went under his knife.

I was originally planning to make an app to allow anyone to analyze their own relationship, but it isn’t clear to me I’d be offering something worth having. There are far more unpleasant things you could find. What if your partner’s emails are less affectionate on days when they have meetings with that attractive co-worker? What if you no longer send them flirtatious emails, or only tell them they’re attractive after 10 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, when you tend to be drinking? What if you discussed Plato and Proust with your ex, and with your current partner you only talk about what’s for dinner? (I did not perform a comparative analysis across my relationships because I figured my exes dislike me enough already.)

You might argue that if these things are true, it is better to be aware of them. But I am not sure that love is best looked at so clear-eyed. Relationships are weird: pas de deux that in the moment are endearing seem bizarre when coldly quantified; full of truths that might be softer if only dimly perceived. If you never thought of your partner as unaffectionate until you learned they say “I love you” 20 percent less frequently than you do, what benefit have you gained?

The second lesson I learned is about the limits of statistics. My relationship is not fully captured by my emails: What I remember are the moments themselves, not their digital shadows. The entire email record of my relationship can itself be attached to an email. It is but a hundredth of a hundredth of a hard drive, a pinch of electron fairy dust that cannot contain four years of tears and touches. And my emails are not fully captured by my algorithms, which would react the same way if I took every carefully crafted message and scrambled the words into random order. Writing this piece alone, what I want is my boyfriend; what I have are some line graphs. If I lose this much when I study a single relationship on which I’m an expert, God knows what I’m losing when I apply the same approach to tens of thousands of people I’ve never met.

So those are the twin and opposite warnings I’d pass on to those who would reduce love to a line graph: You don’t know what you’re missing, and you don’t know what you’ll find. Perhaps the moments that count most can’t—or shouldn’t—be counted.

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This one conversation can prevent infidelity in your marriage

We're long overdue for condoms that actually feel good during sex

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condom

In 1993, Danny Resnic was having anal sex during a casual hookup in Miami Beach when his partner’s latex condom broke. Resnic had been using condoms ever since the man he describes as “my best friend and love of my life” died from AIDS in 1984. “I have always been looking for a monogamous relationship and was never really happy with casual sex,” he says, but in the gay subculture of Miami Beach, where he’d moved from California in 1991, casual sex was the norm. When Resnic slept with men he didn’t know, he insisted on condoms.

After several weeks of worrying about the broken condom, Resnic got tested for HIV. The test came back positive.

The odds of contracting HIV from a single act of unprotected anal sex are extremely low—experts put the risk below 1 in 100. “I couldn’t believe it,” Resnic says today. “‘Cause I was really vigilant. I lost all my friends during the AIDS crisis, and I used condoms religiously. And then when one broke, I thought, ‘How could that happen?’ ”

condomResnic became obsessed with answering that question: He read everything he could find about condoms at his local public library in Miami. He learned how latex condoms are made (by dipping phallic molds into vats of liquid latex, which is peeled off after it dries), and how they are regulated (the Food and Drug Administration considers condoms medical devices and dictates how they are manufactured and labeled).

He discovered that three publicly traded companies—the makers of LifeStyles, Durex, and Trojan—controlled almost the entire market. And he figured out that, since the introduction of the rolled latex condom in the 1920s, not much about condoms had changed.

“Like Eating With Saran Wrap on Your Tongue”

condomI met Resnic for lunch in Los Angeles last September and was struck by his intensity all these years later. To illustrate his astonishment at what he’d learned about condoms, he gestured at the salt and pepper shakers and bottle of olive oil between us. “Everything on this table—these jars, these nozzles—every year they come out with a better product,” he said.

“But not the condom! And I found that baffling. I couldn’t understand it. I was like, ‘I don’t get it. Why haven’t they made some crazy new design? Why is it still the same thing, and no one likes it?’ ”

Resnic decided to rectify the problem. He set out to build a better condom—one that he hoped would make protected sex feel as good as unprotected sex (a guy can dream!), and one that wouldn’t break like the one that broke on him. Resnic set aside everything he’d learned about latex condoms and tried to start from scratch, asking: What might a condom look like if it were designed with pleasure in mind, instead of mass production and profit margins?

 He had taken some product design classes in college, but didn’t know much about biomedical engineering. He spent years thinking, sketching, and researching patents. In 2001, Resnic bought some wood at Home Depot, carved it into a mold with a jigsaw, sanded it down, dipped it in liquid latex, and created the first prototype of his condom in his home, which was, at the time, a house boat on Marina del Rey.

But Resnic didn’t want to stick to latex. He began experimenting with silicone—the flexible, durable material found in spatulas and charity awareness bracelets. He found a silicone manufacturer to formulate a recipe with the precise combination of tensile strength and elasticity he was looking for, and then found a medical device manufacturer to make silicone prototypes.

Using grant money from the National Institutes of Health, he conducted small clinical trials with condoms that fit much more loosely than latex condoms, designed to be pulled on like a mitten instead of rolled on, allowing freedom of movement inside, and to provide sensation for men from the interior of the condom, which is lubricated. (In 2014, a former employee accused Resnic of misusing NIH funds; Resnic denies the allegations.)

All the while, Resnic kept tweaking. He says he’s developed more than 127 versions of what he now calls the Origami condom, because it is folded rather than rolled. “The whole concept of the rolled condom is flawed,” Resnic told me shortly before asking our server for a Mediterranean lamb burger. “The premise is transferring sensation through the material. That’s equivalent to trying to taste your lunch with Saran wrap on your tongue.”

bill and melinda gatesResnic is not the only one who has been trying to build a better condom.

In November 2013, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation began distributing $100,000 grants to teams of researchers who’d submitted proposals for “the Next Generation of Condom.”

The Gates Foundation hopes that at least one of the grantees will develop a product that men in the developing world want to use, which will consequently have “substantial benefits for global health, both in terms of reducing the incidence of unplanned pregnancies and in prevention of infection with HIV or other STIs.”

Here is a video from "the next generation of condom" project: 

The winning proposals include Resnic’s; a condom made of graphene, which is a form of carbon that’s a single atom thick; a condom incorporating plant-based antioxidants; and an “ultra-sheer wrapping condom” made of polyethylene, a type of plastic often used in packaging. Meanwhile, in 2014 a California inventor raised more than $100,000 on the crowdfunding site IndieGoGo to develop the Galactic Cap, a condom designed to fit snugly on the head of the penis while leaving the shaft bare.

Most people do not like latex condoms. The vintage version of Resnic’s Saran wrap metaphor is that using a condom is like taking a shower with a raincoat on. Latex condoms can cause pain and irritation in men and women with latex allergies or sensitivities. They’re difficult and time-consuming to unroll in the heat of the moment. Condoms squeeze some men’s penises uncomfortably; for other men, they’re too long or prone to slipping off mid-coitus. Latex decreases sensation, doesn’t warm up easily, and smells and tastes funny.

For a paper called “ ‘And Isn’t That the Point?’: Pleasure and Contraceptive Decisions,” published in Contraception last year, Gallaudet University sociologist Julie Fennell interviewed 30 men and 30 women about their experiences with condoms. “The most enthusiastic endorsement that several people … offered was, ‘They don’t bother me,’ ” writes Fennell. “Both women and men mentioned disliking the smell, taste, feeling, inconvenience, and sense of wastefulness of condoms.” Fennell drew the title of her paper from something a woman named Millie said, “It’s not the same feeling, it’s not the same closeness. It doesn’t feel as good. And isn’t that the point?” 

It’s not just that a lot of people don’t like the way latex condoms feel. They also don’t use them. In the 2010 National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior, the largest-ever nationally representative sexuality study, 45 percent of men and 63 percent of women who’d most recently had sex with a “new acquaintance” hadn’t used a condom. More alarmingly, 75 percent of women who weren’t using a back-up birth control method reported not using a condom the last time they’d had sex. Adults who’d had anal sex in the past year—the highest-risk sexual act with regard to HIV transmission—said they’d used condoms only 20 percent of the time.

bed comforter

Unsurprisingly, there’s a correlation between not liking condoms and not using them: The authors of a 2007 study of condoms and sexual pleasure wrote, “Men who believed that condoms reduced pleasure were less likely to use them.” And in a 2013 study in which researchers interviewed men who used condoms inconsistently, “By far the most frequently reported downside of using a condom was diminished physiological sensation.”

It’s this connection that inspired the Gates Foundation to get involved. As a program director for the Gates Foundation wrote in a blog post about the condom grants, “It may seem obvious, but the success and impact of any public health tool hinges on that tool being used consistently and correctly by those who need it.”

This is as true in America as it is in sub-Saharan Africa—in spite of the availability of birth control and treatments for STIs, America has the highest rates of unintended pregnancies and HIV transmission in the developed world. From a public health perspective, condom effectiveness is a numbers game. As Ron Frezieres, a Gates grantee who has designed and executed clinical contraceptive trials for more than 30 years, says, “Even if a condom had twice the breakage rate … but everybody loves it, it enhances sex—maybe that’s really incredible, to get 100 percent product utilization of a product that breaks 2 percent [instead of] a 50 percent utilization of a condom that breaks 1 percent.”

condomsCondom compliance—the ability and willingness to use condoms consistently and correctly—has always been a big problem. The Gates Foundation knows it, and so do all of us who’ve decided to just chance it during sex, even when the Trojan is sitting right there on our bedside table. A more enjoyable condom—a condom that people want to use—could significantly reduce STIs and unwanted pregnancies, both in America and abroad. So why hasn’t the always unpopular latex condom ever faced any serious competition in the condom aisle? Why, after all these years, is latex still king?

In 1960, the Food and Drug Administration approved the birth control pill for contraception, giving women a reliable means of controlling their fertility for the first time ever. The introduction of antibiotics in the 1930s and ’40s had already made gonorrhea and syphilis simple to cure, and other venereal diseases (as STIs were called at the time) were treatable or manageable. This all meant that most Americans, straight and gay, were willing to take their chances on unprotected sex. Condom sales plunged. “Between 1965 and 1970, condom use declined 22 percent,” reports sociologist Joshua Gamson in his essay “Rubber Wars.” “From the mid-1970s to the mid-1980s, U.S. condom sales fell by half.”

In 1981, the Centers for Disease Control identified a disturbing trend that gay men in New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles already knew about: Young, healthy-seeming gay men were dying, often suddenly, from rare forms of pneumonia and cancer. “Gay-related immune deficiency,” as researchers first dubbed AIDS, was as poorly understood as it was terrifying. In the absence of scientific consensus, a doctor and researcher named Joseph Sonnabend theorized that AIDS was the cumulative effect of repeated exposure to various STIs. This theory went further than suggesting that promiscuity increased one’s odds of getting AIDS—it suggested that promiscuity was the cause of AIDS.

This was not a popular idea among the gay men of Greenwich Village, who had embraced sexual liberation as a means of defying heteronormative strictures, and who saw bathhouses and sex clubs as safe spaces. (Shortly before the outbreak of AIDS, one gay activist infamously said, “Gay men should wear their sexually transmitted diseases like red badges of courage in a war against a sex-negative society.”) But it was Sonnabend’s soon-discredited theory that led to the rise of safe sex as we know it.

In the summer of 1982, Sonnabend introduced his patient Michael Callen to his other patient Richard Berkowitz, hoping they could help spread his message. Berkowitz was a writer who made his living primarily as an S&M hustler; Callen was a singer who estimated he’d slept with 3,000 men in his 10 years living in New York City. Both men turned 27 that year, and both found hope in Sonnabend’s hypothesis: If promiscuity had made them sick, then perhaps changing their sexual practices could make them well.

In his 2003 memoir, Stayin’ Alive: The Invention of Safe Sex, Berkowitz recalls telling other men with AIDS symptoms, “My doctor told me that I can get better and avoid progressing to full-blown AIDS if I stop fucking around and give my body a chance to heal from years of taking recreational drugs and getting sexually transmitted diseases.” Callen and Berkowitz wanted to spread the word, and thought their own licentious histories made them the perfect messengers.

condomTheir first attempt at advocacy didn’t go over well. “We Know Who We Are,” an essay published in the gay newspaper the New York Native in November 1982, declared, “The present health crisis is a direct result of the unprecedented promiscuity that has occurred since Stonewall” and offered little practical advice about continuing to have sex in the age of AIDS. Callen and Berkowitz were inundated with hate mail from their peers and accused of being “sex-negative propagandists.”

Berkowitz and Callen’s second attempt, a 1983 booklet called How to Have Sex in an Epidemic: One Approach, set aside the judgmental language and offered an idea few gay men had previously considered: Use condoms.

In 1983, the idea that gay men would have sex with condoms was a joke. One lone health clinic in New York, the Gay Men’s Health Project, had attempted to distribute condoms in bathhouses in the 1970s, but they found few takers. According to one of the clinic’s founders, gay men of that era thought of condoms as a contraceptive for straight people and many of them “had no idea how to use them.” Callen’s former partner concurs: “Condoms were basically completely foreign to 99 percent of gay men,” he told filmmaker Daryl Wein in the 2008 documentary Sex Positive. “So, yeah, the idea that gay men would have sex using condoms was revolutionary.”

nyc pride parade march young gay menToday, the idea that gay men should wear condoms to protect themselves from HIV is a given—although the advent of Truvada, a daily pill that can protect people who take it from HIV infection, may change that. Many of the lessons of How to Have Sex in an Epidemic are familiar to anyone who’s ever taken a decent sex-ed class. But some of the book’s messages surprised me.

For one thing, instead of telling men to use condoms and leaving it at that—like, say, the CDC does on its current webpage about gay and bisexual men’s sexual health—Berkowitz, Callen, and Sonnabend offered alternative methods of mitigating risk, like pulling out to ejaculate at the end of intercourse, and spitting after performing oral sex. (Today, spitting and swallowing are considered equally low-risk, while letting semen linger in your mouth might increase your risk of getting HIV.) They acknowledged that these practices are riskier than using a condom, but they seemed more interested in meeting sexually active gay men where they were than in preaching about ideal behaviors.

Venezuela Gay Pride ParadeAs the safe-sex message spread from Greenwich Village to the rest of the country, the nuance of How to Have Sex in an Epidemic got lost. Surgeon General C. Everett Koop, the Reagan appointee legendary for speaking frankly about AIDS and sex in spite of his evangelical background, began talking about condoms in 1986. In his “Surgeon General’s Report on Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome,” Koop wrote: “If you jointly decide to have sex, you must protect your partner by always using a rubber (condom) during (start to finish) sexual intercourse (vagina or rectum).” America, terrified of the disease that had already killed almost 25,000 people, listened.

Between 1986 and 1987, condom sales at drugstores jumped 20 percent nationwide, according to a study published in the American Journal of Public Health. The New York Times cataloged the revived interest in condoms in a 1986 article titled “Back to a Basic Contraceptive,” which profiled an “attractive” widow named Anne who bought a packet of condoms “despite some embarrassment caused by the proximity of two youths to the drug store counter and her confusion at the variety of brands and styles available.” The next year, a sensitivity-challenged condom executive called AIDS “a condom marketer’s dream.”

Thin, sensitive, durable 

condomMost of the condoms sold in the mid-’80s were, as they are now, latex. But another category of condoms experienced sales growth between 1986 and 1988, according to that American Journal of Public Health study: Lambskin condoms, which How to Have Sex in an Epidemic championed as “thin, sensitive and durable.” Even Anne, the New York Times’ attractive widow, ended up buying lambskin condoms.

Lambskin condoms are also known as natural membrane condoms, or sometimes just “skins.” According to Aine Collier’s comprehensive history of the prophylactic, The Humble Little Condom, condoms made from the intestinal lining of mammals have been around for millennia. Sausage-makers in Europe often ran a side business making condoms. Lambskin condoms look quite a bit like sausage casings—they are thin, translucent, and slimy when wet—and, as How to Have Sex in an Epidemic suggested, they are very strong.

When I first held one in my hands, at a small condom manufacturer in California, I tried to break it by tugging on it and poking at it with my fingernails, but failed. Throughout history, people washed and reused their lambskin condoms. According to Collier, the oldest surviving condom is a reusable pig-intestine prophylactic from 1640s Sweden. Reusing these condoms is probably not sanitary—don’t do it!—but my point is that the material holds up to repeated stresses.

Sonnabend says durability was the main reason he and his acolytes endorsed these condoms. “We recommended lambskin condoms in our original condom proposals because of informal reports of latex condom breakage during anal sex,” he told me in an email. “Of course we had no definite information that condoms—latex or lambskin—were completely impermeable to anything smaller than spermatozoa.” But given what Sonnabend knew at the time, it seemed safer to suggest lambskin. “The sense was that lambskin condoms didn’t break in anal sex,” he added later over Skype.

There are four things you need to know about lambskin condoms.

The first is that, yes, they are strong. The second is that they’re quite expensive compared to latex: These days, a 10-pack of Trojan Naturalamb, the only lambskin condom currently available in the United States, costs about $32 on Amazon. (Compare that to about $14 for a 36-pack of Trojan latex condoms.) The third is that they can give off scents ranging from fruity to fishy to gamy.

The fourth is that they feel much better than latex condoms. “Because they have the capacity to heat up to your body temperature, they transmit sensation more effectively than latex,” explained a journalist in the gay magazine NYQ in an article about lambskin condoms in 1992. “Many people who have tried lambskins will never go back to latex.”

trojan condoms

A condom that feels good and doesn’t break would seem to be a godsend, from a public-health perspective. But lambskin never gained traction because it didn’t pass the tests devised by scientists at the height of the AIDS crisis to evaluate condoms—tests that, with the benefit of hindsight, seem shortsighted.

In 1983, when How to Have Sex in an Epidemic was published, scientists had no data about the effectiveness of lambskin condoms—or latex condoms, for that matter—against HIV and other STIs. Research was badly needed, and a few researchers at the FDA, at gay health foundations, and at various universities were up to the task. But how do you test whether a condom protects against viruses during sexual intercourse? Human studies were out of the question; it would be an enormous ethical violation to potentially expose people to deadly pathogens. So AIDS researchers came up with some creative—and some absurd—ways of simulating sexual intercourse in the laboratory. 

In the first few condom studies, published between 1983 and 1987, scientists filled each condom with a few milliliters of a virus-laden solution—about the same volume as the amount of semen in a typical ejaculation. The researchers then layered the condom between the plunger and the barrel of a plastic syringe and pumped the syringe to mimic the thrusting of a penis. Later researchers aimed for more anatomical realism: A study presented in 1988 used “a simulated coitus model (SCM) comprising a stainless steel receptacle and a condom-sheathed plastic piston,” which pumped each condom 50 times.

condom“The effect was comparable to 50 postejaculatory strokes, an unrealistic event for most people,” the lead author conceded later. But just in case 50 postejaculatory strokes were too few, a team at the University of Calgary fit each virus-filled condom over an 8-inch mechanical vibrator and lowered the device, vibrating, into a saline-filled beaker for 30 minutes before testing the saline for traces of virus. Later researchers dispensed with the sex toys and simply filled each condom with a vast quantity of viral serum—up to 1¼ cups—and left it submerged in saline solution for a period of time ranging from one minute to four hours before testing for leakage. Sometimes these condoms were pressurized; sometimes not.

The scientists who studied the porousness of condoms in the 1980s and 1990s had a tendency to exaggerate everything: how much semen men ejaculate, how long condoms remain in contact with genitals after ejaculation, and how many times men continue to thrust after ejaculation. They also had a tendency to exaggerate the amount of virus found in semen, using relatively high-concentration solutions as a proxy for ejaculate. These exaggerations were not unintentional: “It seems better to err on the side of excessive demands on the condom than too lenient ones,” wrote one researcher in 1990. But the exaggerations mean that the results of each study are not necessarily relevant to men who remain inside their partners for only a few seconds after ejaculation.

And what were those results? I was able to find 11 studies published in medical journals or presented at scientific conferences between 1983 and 1999 that attempted to gauge the porosity of lambskin condoms. Most of these studies were very small, testing only a few or a few dozen condoms, which means that their conclusions aren’t exactly watertight, so to speak. Only three studies filled the condoms with solutions that actually contained HIV. Exactly one of the 34 condoms tested in these three studies leaked HIV—a 3 percent failure rate—but that one condom comes with an asterisk: Other researchers later criticized the inconsistent data from the study in which the leaky condom was found, suggesting that a lab technician might have made an error.

A few other studies looked at other infectious viruses, namely, herpes simplex and hepatitis B. Similar to HIV, 96 percent of the herpes-filled condoms did not leak the virus. But two studies showed that 5 out of 5 hepatitis B-filled condoms did leak. This makes sense, physics-wise: HIV and herpes simplex are both fairly large viruses, with infective particles between 90 and 150 nanometers in size, while most of the pores in lambskin condoms have been estimated to be around 50 nanometers wide. The hepatitis B virus is around 40 nanometers wide.

By this time, researchers knew from laboratory tests that intact latex condoms were impervious to all viruses. Clearly, lambskin was not: As the FDA’s own scientists concluded in 1990, “the natural membrane condom may not be totally protective in actual-use conditions.” But the same scientists later concluded, “In general, exposure to semen from breakage appears to be greater than from holes, even for holes in natural membrane condoms.” The imperfect protection afforded by lambskin, when coupled with its advantages in terms of strength and sensation, might be a tradeoff some people would be willing to make.

Adam Glickman, the founder of Condomania—America’s first condom shop when it opened in 1991, and a beloved fixture of Greenwich Village until it closed in 2007—has long endorsed lambskin condoms. “I did my homework, and when people had asked me about it, I would give them the facts as I knew them,” he told me. “I said, ‘This is a study the FDA did, this is how they did it. These are other studies that I respect that are contrary. All I can tell you is the facts, and you can make a decision.’ And then if I was ever asked ‘Well, would you use one for STD protection?’ I’d say, ‘Yes, absolutely.’ ”

Howard Cyr, a co-author of the FDA’s studies on lambskin condoms, was more circumspect. When I spoke to him on the phone, he emphasized that latex is a “better product” than lambskin. “If you have a better product around, use the latex,” he said. “Don’t use the natural membrane condom.”  But when I asked him whether it made sense to encourage people to use condoms regardless of whether they were latex, he responded, “That’s quite logical. Natural membrane would be better than nothing, would be better than a broken condom, yes.”

But have you ever used a lambskin condom? Most people I’ve asked haven’t. “We have two young women who just started working for us,” condom inventor Mark McGlothlin told me. “They’re biomedical engineers, and they have internships with us—and they had never heard of a natural skin condom before, no less seen one.”

fda food and drug administrationThat’s because, in 1991, the FDA began requiring lambskin condoms to carry a label stating, “Not to be used for prevention of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs). To help reduce the risk of catching or spreading many STDs, use only latex condoms.”

You will find a very similar label on boxes of Trojan Naturalamb condoms today. Fourex natural skin condoms went off the market in the late 1990s; a former researcher for London International Group, which made Fourex, said the FDA’s stringent labeling contributed to the company’s decision to pull the condoms.

When I asked an FDA representative about the necessity of those labels on lambskin condoms, he wrote, “Based on our interpretation of the published literature, lambskin condoms are not effective against transmission of STIs” and pointed me toward an informational CDC webpage claiming that lambskin condoms “have pores up to 1,500 nm in diameter … more than 10 times the diameter of HIV and more than 25 times that of HBV [hepatitis B].”

Indeed, a 1987 study looked at alcohol-soaked, dried, and then metal-coated lambskin condoms under a microscope and found a pore with a diameter of 1.5 microns.

But FDA scientists later wrote that, based on their own research—which involved submerging virus-filled condoms into a beaker of solution for several hours—“Our data suggest that the effective maximum pore or hole size is probably an order of magnitude smaller.”

Lambskinc ondoms

If lambskin condoms are indeed mostly-but-not-entirely effective against HIV, as those early condom studies suggested, that might translate to hundreds or thousands of failures each year. But that doesn’t mean a lambskin condom “does not protect against HIV infection and other sexually transmitted diseases,” as current FDA labeling lingo would have it. In fact, consistently using lambskin condoms, which feel better than latex during sex, would provide more protection against HIV and other STIs than inconsistently using latex condoms.

So why did the FDA insist on labeling that made lambskin condoms seem entirely ineffectual against STIs, despite evidence to the contrary, and why didn’t condom manufacturers fight back? People were scared, and understandably so. “The concern about HIV/AIDS in the middle ’80s was as anxious as the one about Ebola today,” says Donald Marlowe, the former director of the FDA’s Center for Devices and Radiological Health. And—as we’ve seen with Ebola—fear can lead people and institutions to make irrational, overcautious decisions. In this case, fear of AIDS led the public health establishment to rule out a condom that protected against most STIs, that didn’t break, and that people liked using.

"The Condom of the Future"

condomsIn a small laboratory in an office park in northern San Diego filled with Mason jars, a Vitamix blender, and glass phalluses, Gates Foundation grantee Mark McGlothlin showed me a few prototypes of his reconstituted collagen condom. McGlothlin is trying to develop a condom that marries the sensation of lambskin with the security of latex. His idea is to take common agricultural waste products, like cow tendons and fish skins, break them down to pure collagen, blend them with plasticizers, and turn the resulting soup into film.

The preliminary condoms he showed me were soft and thin, but they broke very easily; I was able to pull one apart using the same amount of pressure I might use to tear a basil leaf. “When you have something that’s intact to start with, sort of like the skin condom, it comes from the animal that way, it’s intact. It has the advantage that Mother Nature put it all together correctly,” McGlothlin said. “We’re trying to tear all that apart and then put it back together, and I have to admit, we’re not as skilled as Mother Nature at putting it back together.” (He has since created a stronger prototype.)

McGlothlin is a condom inventing vet. He started our interview by dipping a Naturalamb condom in some water, blowing up a latex condom into a balloon twice as big as his head, stretching a polyethylene condom until it lost its shape, and inviting me to put my finger inside a Tenga masturbation aid. McGlothlin is in his late 50s, with bushy black eyebrows, thinning gray hair, and a slight paunch; his voice is slightly nasal and has an unmistakable trace of a Chicago accent. McGlothlin met his wife, Alice, when they were both working atBaxter, a health care and pharmaceutical company, in Chicago. They moved to San Diego to start their own medical equipment company, Apex Medical Technologies, in 1985, and had three daughters who are now in their teens and 20s.

At Baxter, McGlothlin had worked on kidney dialysis equipment, heart-lung machines, blood donation equipment, and other medical devices that contain polyurethane. So by the time he launched Apex, McGlothlin was known as a polyurethane expert. When the AIDS crisis hit, McGlothlin devoted his knowledge of polyurethane to developing a brand-new type of prophylactic—what would eventually become the first commercially available polyurethane condom.

Polyurethane is an enormously versatile polymer. You’ve probably encountered it in the foam in your mattress, or the insulation in the walls of your house, or the soles of your sneakers. The polyurethane film that McGlothlin hoped to turn into a condom has properties of both rubber and plastic—it stretches without breaking, but it doesn’t have nearly as much give as latex. What it lacks in stretchiness, however, polyurethane makes up for in strength—McGlothlin believed he could make a polyurethane condom twice as thin as latex but just as durable. Unlike latex, polyurethane film is also transparent, odorless, and hypoallergenic, and, like lambskin condoms, it transmits heat.

McGlothlin says that it took him about 18 months to come up with a viable polyurethane condom prototype in the mid-’80s. In 1990, he sold the condom to London International Group (a corporation that, at the time, made Durex condoms and was one of the top condom distributors in America). LIG called the condom Avanti, and spent the next four years trying to bring it to market. When the Avanti condom finally went on sale in 1994, a reproductive health advocate told Reuters it might be “the condom of the future.” That person was wrong.  

The primary obstacle to getting a new non-latex condom to market, then and now, is the need for clinical trials. Latex condoms don’t have to be tested in human studies to get FDA approval—as long as a manufacturer can demonstrate that its new latex condom is “substantially equivalent” to an existing latex condom in terms of materials, length, width, and other physical specifications, that latex condom can be sold. But makers of “new material condoms” must demonstrate that their product performs comparably to latex when used by real, live sex partners.

Today, the protocol for a 1,000-use slippage and breakage study—the type of clinical condom trial required by the FDA for new condom designs—is well established. At the California Family Health Council, which has conducted dozens of condom acceptability trials, researchers usually enroll between 200 and 400 monogamous, STI-free heterosexual couples who are using a backup form of birth control, like the pill or an IUD.

Each couple receives three to five commercially available latex condoms, and three to five of the new condom being tested. The condoms are unlabeled, and participants don’t know which condom they’re getting first (although when you’re comparing two condoms that look different—like latex and polyurethane—it’s obvious). The couples are instructed to use the condoms for vaginal intercourse and then individually write detailed reports about who put the condom on, which sexual positions they engaged in, how long the sex lasted, whether they used additional lubricant, whether they had an orgasm, and—crucially—whether the condom slipped off or broke during intercourse. The couples also attend detailed in-person interviews with researchers, and the man has to submit penis measurements. Each member of the couple usually receives $100 for his or her participation. All in all, a 1000-use condom performance study costs between $500,000 and $1 million. 

But in the early 1990s, when McGlothlin and LIG wanted to test their polyurethane condom with humans, the FDA did not have guidelines in place. So the FDA improvised its regulation and labeling of the polyurethane condom, making a lot of mistakes along the way.

The FDA cleared McGlothlin’s condom for sale in 1991, declaring it “substantially equivalent” to existing latex condoms, based on a preliminary clinical trial of 187 couples that indicated that it broke 0.8 percent of the time, compared to 2 percent for latex condoms. But that clearance wasn’t the FDA’s final word on the matter. “My reading of the situation at the time was that the FDA didn’t think a small company like [McGlothlin’s] would be able to get this kind of product to market, and they didn’t necessarily apply the same stringent requirements that they would have done had it been a large company coming in,” says William Potter, the former scientific director for LIG. But soon thereafter, the NIH and LIG began to show interest in McGlothlin’s condom—the NIH for its potential public-health benefits, and LIG for its money-making benefits. Once the research organization and the condom company began pouring millions of dollars into bringing McGlothlin’s condom to the market, the FDA changed its tune.   

Between 1991 and 1995, the NIH funded five clinical trials to test a number of different prototypes McGlothlin had created, which varied in thickness, size, and lubrication. Most of these trials used a relatively small number of couples—between 19 and 39—and some of the prototypes broke between 9 and 15 percent of the time. According to McGlothlin, these high breakage rates were by design. “We made a series of polyurethane condoms: thick ones, thin ones, regular thickness ones, baggy ones, skinny ones, because we were trying to understand condom breakage … so we purposely made things that would break,” he told me. With the NIH grants, McGlothlin says he was basically throwing different models at the wall to see what would stick. But an NIH researcher told USA Today that she didn’t know whether the test condoms were the same as the ones intended for sale, which would cause problems down the line.

Meanwhile, LIG, having settled on a model that seemed to break at low rates, funded several of its own studies to prove to the FDA that the condom it wanted to sell was safe. These studies tested thousands of condom uses by more than 1,000 couples overall, and the resulting breakage rates ranged from 0.4 to 2.1 percent, compared to an estimated average of 2 percent for latex. (Later studies would show a slightly higher breakage rate.)

couple kissingEven though the FDA had officially already cleared the condom to be sold with a label claiming that it was effective against pregnancy and STIs, it got cold feet at the last minute. After the first packages of the Avanti condom had already been printed, the agency made LIG replace the original labeling with a label that stated that the condom’s effectiveness was uncertain and that it was intended only for latex-sensitive users—not exactly the kind of label that makes boxes fly off shelves. “We let it go on the market with interim labeling very carefully," Lillian Yin, then the director of the gynecological division of the FDA’s office of Device Evaluation, told a reporter for the newsletter AIDS Alert at the time. “We are not encouraging it for the general public.”

The FDA also called for a new clinical study following a letter from an NIH researcher who feared that the FDA was clearing a subpar condom for sale. “We knew about the NICHHD data,” Yin said in 1995. “But if you have London International saying they are OK and NICHHD saying they are not, we thought the most reasonable thing was to have them do the studies again.” A current FDA spokesman told me, “I was unable to locate evidence FDA would not allow the Avanti condom to be marketed immediately following clearance.”

trojan condoms

McGlothlin and LIG could have hit the pause button and attempted to convince the FDA to drop the restrictive labeling. But at this point, McGlothlin had devoted about seven years of his life to developing the Avanti condom. LIG had poured millions of dollars into research and had built a factory specifically for polyurethane condoms in Cambridge, England.

McGlothlin recalls a conversation he had with Potter at the time: “It’s kind of like, OK, do we sit here and fight another five years or more to try to get the good labeling and have it as a mainstream product, or do we want something to break the logjam, to get a toehold and get something on the market and see if people even like them or whatever? And I was an advocate to say—and maybe I’m my own worst enemy—like, OK, let’s do whatever it takes to get something on the market and see what happens.”

The whole experience left McGlothlin bitter. “The process was so unfair,” he recalls. Though the FDA would eventually let manufacturers label polyurethane condoms as effective against pregnancy and STIs, the label also still emphasizes that they are for people with latex allergies. When I asked an FDA spokesman about the labeling on polyurethane condoms, he wrote, “Synthetic male condoms offer a high level of protection against pregnancy and STI transmission, but as a group, they are slightly less effective than natural rubber latex condoms.” Today, the only polyurethane condoms sold in America are by Trojan; a series of mergers and acquisitions between 1999 and 2010 killed off both LIG and the Avanti polyurethane condom. In spite of its many benefits, the Avanti condom is the condom of the past, not the future.

"We knew nothing"

Couple Almost KissingThe FDA was given the authority to impose standards on condoms with the passage of the Medical Device Regulation Act of 1976. Understandably, it spent the next decade focusing on more consequential, complex medical devices—pacemakers, ventilators, that sort of thing. So when, in 1986, the surgeon general began promoting condoms to prevent AIDS, the FDA was caught off guard. “All the division chiefs got together one Friday afternoon and said, ‘What do we know about condoms? What do we know about latex?’ We knew nothing,” says Don Marlowe, the former director of the FDA’s Center for Devices and Radiological Health, the branch that is charged with regulating condoms.

So the FDA went looking for answers. “In the space of four months, I got on an airplane and visited every condom manufacturer in the United States,” Marlowe recently recalled from the kitchen table of his home in Rockville, Maryland. He found that manufacturers varied wildly in their techniques and test methods, and that those test methods didn’t even necessarily have any basis in science. And so the FDA began to try to improve the tests.

condom testAt the time, condom companies were supposed to adhere to a standard created by a private, not-for-profit standards development organization called American Society for Testing and Materials, whose rules hadn’t changed much since the 1940s. The ASTM condom subcommittee was, back then, populated mostly by scientists and sales representatives from condom companies, all of whom had an interest in keeping the standard favorable to their bottom line. When, in the wake of the surgeon general’s call to action, FDA representatives joined the ASTM subcommittee in the late ’80s, they came with an implicit threat. Since the FDA had the power to change labeling and recall products, the agency “became the 800-pound gorilla in the room,” says Marlowe.

Before FDA representatives joined the ASTM condom group, quality assurance was pretty much left up to the manufacturer’s discretion: Some manufacturers filled condoms with water to test for holes, some filled them with air, some examined them visually, but the specifics of each test were open to interpretation. Now, the ASTM condom standard was rewritten at the FDA’s prompting to systematize different test methods.

To make sure condoms don’t have any holes, instructions were given for the water leak test, which, according to the current ASTM standard, “is most sensitive when the condom is filled with water while hanging vertically, its top is closed off, and the condom is moved into horizontal positions and squeezed while it is examined for leaks.” To test condom strength, the air burst test, in which randomly selected condoms are filled with air to determine the volume and pressure at which they burst, won out over the tensile strength test, which stretched condoms mechanically to determine the force required to rip them. Minimum length, minimum width, maximum thickness, storage conditions, and protein content of latex condoms were all precisely defined.

When I first found out that the government makes condom manufacturers blow up their condoms like balloons to determine their strength, I laughed. But, by all accounts, the quality of latex condoms has gotten much, much better and more consistent as a result of strengthened ASTM standards. Gone are the days ofenormous condom recalls, and laboratory tests showing that 1 out of 8 latex condom brands leaked HIV. (Although well-made latex is impervious to viruses, shoddy manufacturing practices can and once did leave tiny holes in condoms.)

But that strict quality control, with its emphasis on easily reproducible laboratory tests, comes with a downside. Adam Glickman, the founder of Condomania, and a condom inventor named Frank Sadlo, discovered that downside in 2006.

In August 2003, 3½ years prior, Glickman had begun selling the condoms Sadlo invented, a range of custom-fit latex condoms called TheyFit, which had been cleared by the FDA in 2001. TheyFit came in 55 sizes, ranging from 3 inches to 10 inches in length and from 1½ to 2½ inches in width (measured when the condoms were laid flat). Men found out their size by downloading a ruler-shaped template from the Internet, printing and cutting it out, and using it to determine the length and circumference of their erect penis.

TheyFit was a hit at Condomania, and understandably so: Human penis size varies enormously, and while latex stretches, it feels much better to wear a condom that sits comfortably on the penis than one that squeezes it—or, in the event that the condom is too long, bruises the base of the penis with its extra material. Furthermore, a clinical trial conducted by the Kinsey Institute indicated that TheyFit condoms broke half as often as conventional condoms, with especially noticeable differences in breakage rates among men with larger penises.

TheyFit condoms sold faster than any other product in Condomania’s history, and Glickman says he never received a single consumer complaint about them. (Glickman is not an impartial observer—Condomania had an exclusive deal with TheyFit and was the only company to market and sell the condoms.

they fit condomsHowever, I was unable to find a single entry related to TheyFit in the FDA’s database of complaints about medical devices.) In surveys that Glickman conducted, consumers raved about the condoms, writing things like: “Changed my sex life. I was always suffocating in other brands or they were wide enough but too long,” and “For the first time, after making love, I didn’t have a bruised purple ring around the base of my penis from the condom’s ring,” and “Excellent product that allows the full use of my penis in the love making experience.”

In spite of their niche popularity and excellent clinical trial results, the FDA challenged the acceptability of TheyFit condoms in December 2006, apparently having noticed—more than five years after clearing the condoms for sale—that some of the 55 sizes did not meet ASTM dimensional requirements. The smaller sizes, in particular, didn’t hold the requisite volume of air and water in the air-burst test and the water-leak test, because they were, well, smaller. Sadlo, who confirms Glickman’s account, was given 30 days to remove his condom from the market, and, after consulting with an attorney, complied. (“The FDA is unable to comment on why a manufacturer discontinued marketing a device,” the FDA spokesman told me when I tried to confirm Glickman and Sadlo’s story.)

Glickman was enormously frustrated by the experience. He had been trying for years to make money selling condoms, starting in the late-1980s, when, as a college student, he branded a batch of latex condoms with his school mascot, Jumbo the Elephant, and went from dorm room to dorm room selling them. For Glickman, TheyFit was an amazing opportunity to get people excited about using condoms. But the FDA didn’t see it that way. “They just saw their regulation,” says Glickman. In his view, the FDA “didn’t know how to change the regulation; they didn’t seem to care to want to change the regulation.”

In 2011, the international equivalent of the ASTM, called the International Standards Organization, finally settled on testing methods for a broader range of sizes. That same year, TheyFit began selling an expanded range of 95 sizes in the European Union. But the ASTM has been slow to change. In December 2013, when the ASTM subcommittee voted on expanding the size range allowed in the standard, everyone was in favor except for FDA representatives, citing concerns that small condoms might not fit over the mandrels used to administer the air-burst test, according to an ASTM committee member.

Glickman believes that what happened to TheyFit shows that the FDA is unconcerned with how sexually active Americans actually have sex. Here’s more proof: The FDA does not sanction condoms for anal sex.

Latex condoms are not, and have never been, approved by the FDA for use during anal sex. Clinical trials comparing experimental condoms to existing latex condoms enroll only straight couples and instruct them to use the condoms for vaginal intercourse. (The commonly cited latex condom failure rate of 2 percent came out of these clinical trials.) When Marlowe and his colleagues at the FDA began trying to improve condom standards in the late 1980s and early 1990s, they looked at the scientific literature on the physics of sex and found that there had been virtually no studies of anal sex.

“There is uncertainty as to the level of protection that condoms designed for use during VI [vaginal intercourse] can provide during AI [anal intercourse],” wrote the authors of a 1997 FDA review of the scientific literature on anal sex. Since that FDA review was written, American researchers have conducted only a handful of additional surveys of the condom experiences for people having anal sex, plus the clinical trial for TheyFit condoms, which studied breakage and slippage during both anal and vaginal intercourse. One of those surveys suggested that failure rates during anal sex are similar to those during vaginal sex—around 2 percent—which aligns with the results of a European trial.

But in the TheyFit study, 7.4 percent of standard sized latex condoms failed during anal intercourse, versus 5.7 percent of fitted condoms. Meanwhile, a recently published analysissuggests that condoms are less effective against HIV when used by gay men than when used by straight couples. Clearly, more research is needed.

It is inconceivable that the effectiveness of latex condoms during a sex act practiced by an estimated one-third of Americans—the sex act associated with the highest risk of HIV transmission—is virtually unknown. HIV/AIDS, which in the 1980s was spread primarily by anal sex among gay men, is the reason the government started seriously regulating condoms in the first place.

How could this happen? Ron Frezieres, a researcher at the California Family Health Council who helped test Avanti and develop the standard 1,000-use condom trial back in the 1990s (and another Gates grantee), thinks that the lack of research on anal sex is because condom manufacturers don’t want to be associated with gay sex in the public eye. “It’s a little political, because I don’t think the sponsors”—i.e., condom manufacturers—“necessarily want their name identified in publications that they’ve done this big anal research study,” Frezieres told me. “The FDA would love the information, and I also think the NIH would love the information, but they also don’t want to be known as funding the anal intercourse study.” Take a moment to imagine how Republicans in Congress might react if the NIH used taxpayer dollars to study the mechanics of anal sex.

Marlowe, the former FDA standards director, also places the blame on manufacturers. “It’s the sponsor of the product that’s going to promote this change in the labeling to reflect anal intercourse. Where is he getting an advantage by doing that? What is the incentive to him to do that? He’s already selling a successful product.”

Carol Carrozza, a representative of Ansell, the maker of LifeStyles, blames the FDA instead. “There are no anal specific condoms because they don’t have criteria for testing specifically for that use,” she told me.

I asked Marlowe what he thought about the lack of anal-approved condoms today. He paused for a long time and then said, “I think there’s enough design safety built into the product that we’re getting that I’m not anxious about it. But do I know? No.”

"Revolutionary"

A bright-eyed, grinning young woman, who is lounging in bed wearing a matching navy blue bra and panties, stares straight into the camera and declares, “I love sex. And I don’t like condoms.” Her smile intensifies as she remembers her latest tryst. “But these condoms are made differently.”

This is a commercial for Skyn Condoms, the first FDA-authorized condom made of polyisoprene. Ansell, the maker of Skyn (and Lifestyles), claims in the fine print at the bottom of the ad that polyisoprene is “a revolutionary material.” There are no FDA standards for using the term “revolutionary” to describe a condom. “Don’t ask me details,” says the actress in the ad. “Frankly, I don’t care. All I know is, they felt different than anything I’ve tried before.”

If the actress did know the details, she might be disappointed. Polyisoprene is synthetic latex. It is chemically almost identical to latex, but since it’s made from petrochemicals instead of tree fluid, it lacks the proteins that some people are allergic to. To get a sense of just how non-revolutionary Skyn condoms are, look attheir FDA application summary, which refers to the product as a “lubricated polyisoprene latex male condom” and confirms that it meets both ASTM and ISO test standards for latex condoms.

This is not to dismiss the polyisoprene condom: Polyisoprene is slightly softer and stretchier than natural latex, and in a marketing survey by Ansell, 97 percent of people who’d tried it said they’d recommend Skyn. Ansell also says that in a clinical trial, participants rated Skyn significantly higher in terms of sensitivity and comfort than either latex or polyurethane condoms, although Ansell’s rep declined to share the details of that trial with me.

But to call polyisoprene “revolutionary”—a term that Durex’s new polyisoprene condom also uses in its marketing materials—is funny and sad. More than 30 years after the AIDS crisis began—more than 30 years after the advent of the safe-sex movement—a synthetic latex condom counts as revolutionary?

If you believe Danny Resnic, hard at work on his Origami condom, polyisoprene is a symptom of Americans’ failure of imagination when it comes to condoms. “When I first told people I was developing a new condom, they went, ‘Well, what could be different about a condom?’ ” he said. “They couldn’t imagine anything different, because there’s never been anything different.” Resnic thinks men have become desensitized by latex condoms. “They’ve come to accept that level of sensation as the maximum.” If they use condoms at all.

Resnic’s original idea was to build the perfect condom, one that wouldn’t break, would protect against all viruses, would feel as good for the wearer as unprotected sex, would be affordable, and would be approved for anal sex by the FDA.

But building a perfect condom is more complicated than he thought. He conducted a few small clinical trials of his silicone model with funding from the NIH, and after incorporating feedback from those trials into his design, he decided to take his male condom in a surprising direction: It will now be made out of latex. Resnic still hopes to incorporate silicone into an internal condom—meant to be worn inside the vagina or anus, like a female condom—which he’ll be testing in South Africa this spring with his $100,000 from the Gates Foundation. But for his male condoms—which will still be roomier than existing condoms and pulled on instead of rolled on—Resnic says it just makes more sense to use latex, which would make it possible to manufacture his condom in existing condom factories.

Resnic also hopes that by making the Origami condom out of latex, he’ll be able to get easy clearance from the FDA. If he can prove to the FDA that the Origami condom is “substantially equivalent” to latex condoms that are already on the market, and that it meets the ASTM and ISO standards for latex condoms, Resnic won’t have to do an expensive, 1,000-use clinical trial—he’ll just be able to sell his condom.

The federal government has spent the last quarter-century telling Americans that latex condoms are our only option for both pregnancy protection and disease prevention. The appeal of the mantra “use a latex condom correctly every time you have sex”—as a Surgeon General’s report put it in 1992, and as has been repeated in innumerable pamphlets and classrooms since—is its simplicity. By endorsing a one-size-fits-all latex template without qualification, the FDA doesn’t have to think about the nuances and messy realities of how people have sex: the fact that anal sex is different from vaginal sex, that penises come in a range of sizes, and that safe sex is a risk-reward calculation, not a perfect solution.

Since I started working on this article, I’ve become fond of polyurethane condoms, which transmit the heat of my partner’s body and don’t get dry. I’ve made this personal risk-reward calculation—you might make a different one, and even stick with latex. The point is, we all need a condom that we’ll actually pull out of our nightstand or wallet and use—and that’s a lot easier to do when sex with that condom feels good.

 

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Analyzing over 5,500 emails with her boyfriend taught this statistician two big lessons about love

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Candy heart email me broken

As a scientist who studies online-dating data, I’ve spent a lot of time quantifying how other people fall in love. I began to wonder whether it was possible to apply the same methods to my own relationship. I told myself it was for the sake of science: I was acting out of professional curiosity, and would understand others’ relationships better by putting myself under the mathematical microscope.

But it would be more honest to admit it was also because I missed my boyfriend. After spending three years at college with him, I had left to study for a year at Oxford; this was my equivalent of flipping through photo albums.

But what data to use? We rarely text or take pictures. But in the four years since we began dating, we’ve exchanged an average of four emails a day, which works out to more than 5,500 emails. If we had just typed out literature to each other, we would’ve recently completed Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, though we won’t finish Infinite Jest for another six years or In Search of Lost Time for another 19. When I told my boyfriend I wanted to statistically analyze our emails, we had the following conversation:

Him: I think you should ask my permission to do that.

Me: I wouldn’t ask your permission to read the emails. Why should reading them using a computer be any different?

Him: You’re going to find some weird pattern and break up with me.

Me: Either that will be warranted by the data, in which case it’s a good thing, or it won’t, in which case I’m a bad statistician. Are you saying I’m a bad statistician?

This is what scientists call “obtaining consent.”

It was dark and drizzling when I walked back alone to my Oxford dorm room, curled up around my laptop, and dove into the digital record of our relationship. I was unsurprised to find that our emails became more frequent after I left for England. But I felt a jolt when I discovered that I sent my boyfriend far more emails than he sent me.

I called my boyfriend and asked him why, according to the data, I missed him more than he missed me.

I closed my program, made myself a cup of tea, called my boyfriend, and asked him why, according to the data, I missed him more than he missed me. He said that wasn’t true, he just preferred to talk on the phone rather than send me emails. I went back to the data to see if it substantiated his claim, and indeed it did: He used “call me” and “phone” more frequently in his emails.

couple, relationship

Having avoided one potential breakup, I returned to the data and looked at how the average length of our emails changed over time. I found large spikes corresponding to the first three times we were apart for our university’s spring, summer, and winter breaks. These lengthy emails turned out to be, unsurprisingly, the sort of pour-your-soul-out messages that accompany first infatuation. The content of the emails changed over time in other ways as well. For example, we used the word “promise” more frequently early in our relationship, often to make the sort of charming but trivial pledges that build trust—“I promise not to kill you,” or “I promise never to make you go to a yacht club.” On the other hand, we began to use nicknames and endearments only later in our relationship—promises replaced by pet names.

Then I wondered if differences in our personalities would show up in our emails. I compared the words I used with the words he used; this revealed that, contrary to gender stereotypes, I am probably more aggressive. I am responsible, for example, for more than 95 percent of the profanity in our emails. He is much more likely to use the phrase “I am not sure,” and is also responsible for 60 percent of the incidences of “sorry.” I have a penchant for bleaker topics, and am more likely to mention “pain,” “cancer,” and “suicide.” I am also more likely to make sweeping generalizations about men, as evidenced by my more frequent use of “boys” and “male.”

We each bring up our interests: He, the quadrilinguist, mentions Greek, Latin, and Italian. I use words related to statistics. Our language is distinctive in other ways. He, the New Englander, is much more likely to use the word “dandy” (as in Yankee Doodle); I, who when comfortable with someone begin talking like a frat boy, am much more likely to use the word “bro.”

To avoid getting dumped, I will stop sharing details of our emails and will instead share two larger lessons I learned about love. The first is that statistics can be unexpectedly, painfully powerful. I had long known the joy of slicing out truth with a statistical scalpel, but here the heart I’d cut into was my own. Whydoes my boyfriend apologize more than I do? Why have our emails gotten shorter? What if I still want promises, not just pet names? Another statistician of love, the founder of the dating site OkCupid, once said that analyzing people’s relationships made him “very grim” because he had to “embrace the darkness.” I always found this a bit melodramatic, but perhaps he simply empathized better than I did with the lovers who went under his knife.

I was originally planning to make an app to allow anyone to analyze their own relationship, but it isn’t clear to me I’d be offering something worth having. There are far more unpleasant things you could find. What if your partner’s emails are less affectionate on days when they have meetings with that attractive co-worker? What if you no longer send them flirtatious emails, or only tell them they’re attractive after 10 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, when you tend to be drinking? What if you discussed Plato and Proust with your ex, and with your current partner you only talk about what’s for dinner? (I did not perform a comparative analysis across my relationships because I figured my exes dislike me enough already.)

You might argue that if these things are true, it is better to be aware of them. But I am not sure that love is best looked at so clear-eyed. Relationships are weird: pas de deux that in the moment are endearing seem bizarre when coldly quantified; full of truths that might be softer if only dimly perceived. If you never thought of your partner as unaffectionate until you learned they say “I love you” 20 percent less frequently than you do, what benefit have you gained?

The second lesson I learned is about the limits of statistics. My relationship is not fully captured by my emails: What I remember are the moments themselves, not their digital shadows. The entire email record of my relationship can itself be attached to an email. It is but a hundredth of a hundredth of a hard drive, a pinch of electron fairy dust that cannot contain four years of tears and touches. And my emails are not fully captured by my algorithms, which would react the same way if I took every carefully crafted message and scrambled the words into random order. Writing this piece alone, what I want is my boyfriend; what I have are some line graphs. If I lose this much when I study a single relationship on which I’m an expert, God knows what I’m losing when I apply the same approach to tens of thousands of people I’ve never met.

So those are the twin and opposite warnings I’d pass on to those who would reduce love to a line graph: You don’t know what you’re missing, and you don’t know what you’ll find. Perhaps the moments that count most can’t—or shouldn’t—be counted.

SEE ALSO: Snapchat is paying college grads almost $500,000 to work there

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Here's how common it is to cheat on your partner

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natalie portman in closer

A reader submitted the following question:

"Just how common is cheating? What percentage of people admit that they have done it before?"

This is a surprisingly difficult question to answer because it depends upon how you define “cheating.” Specifically, are you talking only about sexual infidelity, or are you also asking about emotional infidelity? 

When researchers use different definitions, they obtain wildly different results. For instance, in a 2010 review of 31 different studies of infidelity published in the journal Personality & Individual Differences, researchers found that rates of infidelity ranged anywhere from 1.2% to 85.5% of respondents [1]!

Typically, studies that define infidelity narrowly (i.e., only in sexual terms) report lower rates, whereas those that adopt broader definitions (i.e., sexual and emotional infidelity) report much higher rates. Indeed, that 85.5% figure comes from a study that used a very broad definition of cheating that even included flirting with someone other than your partner.

Rates of infidelity also vary across certain demographic characteristics and relationship types. For instance, research finds that cheating tends to be more frequent among men than it is among women (although this gender difference has narrowed considerably in recent years). Likewise, infidelity tends to be more common among couples who are dating compared to those who are married.

I should also mention that rates of infidelity vary depending upon whether the question is framed specifically in terms of one's current relationship or in terms of whether one has ever done it (obviously, the latter tends to yield higher numbers).

With that said, here are a few statistics you might be interested in.

First, let's look at the percentage of married people who say they have ever had sex outside of their current relationship. Looking across the studies included in the 2010 review paper, that number pretty reliably falls between 1 in 4 and 1 in 5, at least among samples collected in the United States (rates of infidelity can vary substantially across countries).

Second, let's look at how many college students have ever committed sexual infidelity. Again, the studies reported in this review paper pretty consistently put that number between 1 in 2 and 1 in 3.

Of course, keep in mind that, if anything, these numbers probably underestimate the true prevalence of cheating because not everyone who has done it is willing to admit to it, even on anonymous surveys.

In short, cheating is a very common activity; however, the prevalence of infidelity varies dramatically depending upon how you ask the question and to whom.   

For more information on cheating, including some of the reasons people do it and the outcomes associated with it, see here.

Want to learn more about Sex and Psychology? Click here for previous articles or follow the blog on Facebook (facebook.com/psychologyofsex), Twitter (@JustinLehmiller), or Reddit (reddit.com/r/psychologyofsex) to receive updates. 

[1] Luo, A., Cartun, M. A., & Snider, A. G. (2010). Assessing extradyadic behavior: A review, a new measure, and two new models. Personality and Individual Differences, 49, 155-163.

SEE ALSO: Here’s when people are most likely to cheat on their partner

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Judge rules that a woman can serve divorce papers via Facebook message

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facebook

A New York judge has ruled that a woman is allowed to serve her ex divorce papers via Facebook message. 

Manhattan Supreme Court Justice Matthew Cooper made the ruling after a nurse named Ellanora Baidoo was unable to track down her husband for three weeks in order to serve him with the divorce papers. 

“I think it’s new law, and it’s necessary,” Baidoo’s lawyer, Andrew Spinnell, told the New York Daily News.

Spinnell notes that “We tried everything, including hiring a private detective," and were ultimately unable to track Victor Sena Blood-Dzraku, the man in question, down.

Blood-Dzraku doesn't have a job, a driver's license, or billing address, however the couple have communicated regularly on social media.  

Baidoo's lawyer sent the first Facebook message out to Blood-Dzraku last week and, “So far, he hasn’t responded."

He will continue to send Blood-Dzraku one message per week for three weeks or until Blood-Dzraku responds and acknowledges receipt, the court filing says.

It's unknown whether this decision will be used as a precedent in future cases, however as CNET notes, "this isn't the first time a US judge has granted someone permission to serve legal documentation on Facebook." A man was allowed to serve child support payment documentation via the social platform last year, and some foreign countries allow for divorce filings over text message.

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Anthropologist explains why we cheat on people we love

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helen fisher

Biological anthropologist Helen Fisher has a pretty perfect description of what it's like to be in love with someone:

Simply put, she says, that person becomes the center of the world. You have an intense craving to be with that person, not just sexually, but emotionally. You can list the things you don't like about them, but all that gets pushed aside and you focus only on what you do like about them.

"It's an obsession," Fisher said in TED Talk called "Why we love, why we cheat."

What's going on biologically, though, is far less romantic, and it explains why we sometimes cheat on those we love.

Romantic love is essentially just elevated activity of the reward hormone dopamine in the brain.

In the TED talk Fisher explains an experiment where she and a team of scientists scanned the brains of people who were in love. The team showed the smitten person a neutral photo and then a photo of their beloved. They recorded which regions of the brain were active while the person gazed at the photo of their partner.

The researchers found that one of the most important brain regions that became active when each person looked at a photo of their partner is the reward system — the same brain area that lights up when a person takes cocaine or has an orgasm.

That means that "romantic love is not an emotion, it's a drive," Fisher said. "And in fact, I think it's more powerful than the sex drive."

Many other studies have found the same thing: love operates as a motivation and reward system in the brain. So, if love is rewarding, what drives us to cheat on people we fall in love with?

The problem is that romantic love isn't the only brain system that is activated when we fall for someone. There are actually three brain systems related to love, Fisher explained.

There's the sex drive, which is like an "intolerable neural itch," to get us out searching for a range of partners to help pass on our genes. There's romantic love, which helps us focus our mating energy on one person. And then there's attachment, the calm and security we feel with a long-term partner so we can raise children with them as a team.

However, those three brain systems, sex drive, romantic love, and attachment, aren't always connected to each other.

So it's possible to feel deep attachment to a long-term partner at the same time you feel intense romantic love toward someone else and even also feel sexual attraction toward another person, Fisher said.

"In short, we're capable of loving more than one person at a time," Fisher said.

And that's why, Fisher says, some people may cheat on their partner.

It's why someone can lay in bed at night thinking about deep feelings of attachment to one person and swing to thoughts of romantic love for another person.

"It's as if there's a committee meeting going on inside your head as you try to decide what to do," Fisher said. "I don't think honestly that we're an animal that was built to be happy — we're an animal that was built to reproduce. I think the happiness we find, we make."

This all sounds like a cynical take on love, but Fisher says that, despite all these straightforward and unavoidable biological processes, there's still mystery and "magic to it."

Watch the TED Talk here:

SEE ALSO: Here’s the model that can predict if a relationship will last

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Why women find narcissists irresistible

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Narcissus Caravaggio reflection

It’s been clear for some time now that narcissists are attractive to women. At first blush, their extreme self-confidence can be almost magnetically alluring.

But surely after women have been dating for a while, they come to realize that their enticing surfaces are masks for bad behavior, including infidelity. And certainly when their focus shifts to looking for a prospective husband, they’ll run as far as they can from narcissists, right?

Actually, no. In a rather dispiriting study, researchers V. Tamara Montrose and Carrie Haslam of Hartpury College in England, report that narcissistic traits retain their appeal even among veterans of the dating scene, as well as those who are specifically searching for a spouse.

“The narcissistic male does not make a good partner, but even experienced females do not realize this,” they write in the journal Personality and Individual Differences.

To the researchers' surprise, they found that women "wishing to get married were more attracted to the narcissistic male personality than those not desiring marriage."

Their study featured 146 British women between the ages of 18 and 28. Seventy-six percent said they were looking to get married, while 24 percent did not. The women reported how many men they had been involved with romantically in past years: 52 percent said they had zero to five previous partners, while 7.5 percent reported having 21 or more.

They were then presented with 20 statements related to narcissism and attraction, and asked to rate their agreement or disagreement with each on a one-to-five scale. These included “Confidence in a male is more alluring than modesty;” “Male vanity is an attractive attribute;” and “I am attracted to men who take pleasure in being the center of attention.”

To the researchers’ surprise, they found that women “wishing to get married were more attracted to the narcissistic male personality than those not desiring marriage.” Specifically, marriage-minded females responded much more positively to such assertions as “I am drawn to a man who displays authority” and “A man who uses manipulation to influence his success at work is attractive.”

“This finding is problematic from a female perspective,” they write, “as the narcissistic male is primarily short-term mating goal oriented.” (In other words, he’ll break your heart.) Unfortunately, they add, many of the qualities that make such a man poor mate material “are not immediately evident.”

The researchers found no significant differences among women who reported having more or fewer romantic partners. The only real distinction: Those at the top of the scale, with 21 or more past partners, were significantly more attracted to narcissistic males than those who had zero to 10.

The results suggest male narcissists are seen as high-status figures with “the ability to acquire resources, and that they are entertaining and self-assured. These traits are attractive to females in relationship contexts,” the researchers write.

Haslam and Montrose conclude that women “need to take into account future relationship desires and past mating experiences” when deciding who might be good relationship material. Many do, of course.

But this study suggests pathological self-regard exerts a pull that stirs primal passions—one that retains its potency longer than many might predict.

SEE ALSO: Both men and women are bad at knowing who they want to date

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Here's what you should tell your partner about your past sex life

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In most relationships, the curiosity of past partners and relationships often creeps into our mind. Besides wondering how you should phrase the question, we often wonder if it's even worth the trouble of discussing at all.

Dr. Bat Sheva Marcus, the sexual dysfunction specialist and clinical director of The Medical Center For Female Sexuality, reveals the best way to discuss this sensitive subject with your partner. 

Produced by Sam Rega. Camera by Jason Gaines.

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6 money lies that can destroy your relationship

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couple sunset

A 2014 poll of over 2,000 US adults from the National Endowment for Financial Education (NEFE) and Harris Interactive found that 64% of people in relationships have combined finances.

It also found that of these respondents, a third had lied to their spouse or partner about money, while another third said their partners had lied to them.

An alarming 76% of those who had experienced these deceptions said it affected the relationship, from loss of trust, to arguments and even divorce.

Combining money and deception in cases of "financial infidelity" doesn't lead to good things — but it clearly isn't uncommon.

Some of the most damaging lies are:

1. Lying about how much money you make.

"Oh, I'm not sure if I'm getting a bonus this year."

Refusing to share is just as dishonest as giving an inaccurate figure.

"If you marry someone, regardless of whether you put all your money into one account or separate accounts, you need to know how much is in the total bucket," explains Valerie Rind, author of "Gold Diggers and Deadbeat Dads: True Stories of Friends, Family, and Financial Ruin.""How do you do your budget if you have no idea what end of the spectrum your spouse is at?"

The bigger problem:"If the person doesn't want to tell you, that's a red flag right there," Rind explains. "You have to be having those kinds of conversations if you're going to be married to someone."

photo lavender field

2. Lying about how you earn money.

"This extra cash? The company just started counting any hours after 6 p.m. as overtime."

Are you earning money through a salary? Second job? Occasional freelance work? Investments? Off-track betting?

Ok, you might not be tiptoeing into the ring of earning money from illicit, illegal, or irresponsible choices, but lying about where the money comes from has two problems no matter what form the lie takes:

  • First of all, it leaves your partner or spouse unable to to correctly estimate how much money there should be, and unable to notice any missing cash. For that reason, it's closely tied to lying about how much money you're making and can be just as damaging — if you're dishonest about how you're earning money, it's easier to lie about how much you have.
  • Second, it can make a real mess of your taxes. Especially if you're signing your name to a joint return, you'll want to know for what, exactly, you're legally responsible.

The bigger problem: It's possible this kind of lie can cover up something much bigger. "If someone is doing something illicit and dealing drugs, you'd want to know," Rind cautions. "If they're gambling, it can be a serious addiction."

horse race

3. Lying about your debt.

"I have a few student loans, but it's nothing to worry about."

Money you put toward debt is money that can't be used elsewhere, for you or your partner. Lies about debt can range from whether you have any, to how much, to how long you have to pay, to whether you're making the payments regularly.

"If you're tying your horse to someone else's wagon, you need to know not only what's coming in, but what's going out," says Rind. "If someone has a payoff plan, how long is that going to take? You're going to need a separate line in the budget for payments, and is that for two years or ten years?"

The bigger problem: A person's debt can give some insight into how they handle money. "You want to know how a person got into debt in the first place," cautions Rind. "Was it overspending? Was it a phase where they weren't used to managing their own money? Or is it part of an ongoing problem? You need to know how somebody runs their finances because that totally affects the whole picture."

Woman with Shopping Bags_Edited

4. Lying about the things you buy.

"This old thing?"

The poll from NEFE and Harris Interactive found that 17% of respondents had hid a purchase from a spouse. Compared to lying about your income or your debt, it may seem pretty harmless, but according to Rind, this is a gateway lie: Once you tell it, you're on the path to trouble.

"If you know you're going to be criticized, it's easier not to tell the other person — that seems to be the logic," says Rind.

The problem tomorrow:"That can backfire when you wear the new clothing or whatever you've purchased and the spouse says, 'Oh is that new?' and it leads to another lie and becomes a whole pattern," she continues. "That's the problem with lies: You tell one and it kind of ends up leading to another, and that's the real insidious problem."

Couple Whispering

5. Lying about loaning money to friends and family.

"Yeah, the conversation went ok. I told her we just couldn't afford to help them out right now."

Beyond the fact that you can't stand the idea of lending money to your partner's sister and they feel similarly about your cousins, the problem with lying about loaning money without your partner's go-ahead is pretty basic.

The bigger problem:"This one is tied in with lying about what you buy: People don't want to be criticized, they don't want their partners to say, 'Why did you do that? We're never going to see that money again!'" Rind explains.

"But that's your spending money," she continues. "It affects the budget."

Couple Sitting Together

6. Lying about having bank accounts your spouse didn't or doesn't know about.

"No, this is from an account that I closed years ago."

Having private, solo bank accounts is one thing. Having secret bank accounts is another.

In the NEFE survey, 5% of respondents admitted to hiding an account from their partner, and 7% said they had been the one ignorant of a partner's account.

The bigger problem: More problematic than the account's existence, Rind says, is the reason you have it in the first place.

"Are you foreseeing a problem if you have to have a secret account?" she asks. "Do you have it in the back of your mind that your relationship isn't going to work out, so you need exit funds? Are you afraid your spouse is going to want to spend that money?" 

SEE ALSO: My wife and I never discussed money before getting married — and ended up with $52,000 of debt

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Tom Brady congratulates 'love of my life' Gisele for final runway show in sweetest Facebook post ever

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At age 34, after 20 years strutting her 5-foot-11 body down the catwalk, Gisele Bündchen walked her final runway show Wednesday night during São Paulo Fashion Week in her native Brazil.

Gisele Bundchen last runway showThere to cheer Bündchen on was her husband of six years and father of her two children, NFL quarterback Tom Brady.

Tom Brady Gisele fashion showJust look how proud he is!

Tom Brady Gisele fashion show After the show, Brady expressed amazement with his wife to his nearly 3.2 million Facebook fans:

Congratulations Love of my Life. You inspire me every day to be a better person. I am so proud of you and everything you have accomplished on the runway. I have never met someone with more of a will to succeed and determination to overcome any obstacle in the way. You never cease to amaze me. Nobody loves life more than you and your beauty runs much deeper than what the eye can see. I can't wait to see what's next. I love you. ‪#‎GOAT‪#‎thebestisyettocome‬.

Congratulations Love of my Life. You inspire me every day to be a better person. I am so proud of you and everything you...

Posted by Tom Brady on Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The public response was overwhelmingly positive.

Tom Brady Gisele
After becoming the world's highest-paid model, raking in $47 million last year alone, Bündchen announced Tuesday that the show would be her last:

I am grateful that at 14, I was given the opportunity to start this journey. Today after 20 years in the industry, it is a privilege to be doing my last fashion show by choice and yet still be working in other facets of the business. #firstrunway #14yearsold 🙏🙏🙏

 on

After her final runway show, Bündchen posted:

Speechless... Thank you, thank you, thank you! #forevergrateful ❤️🙏❤️

 on

But Bündchen and Brady's support goes both ways.

The supermodel was right by her man's side as he won this year's Super Bowl.

tom brady gisele kissing super bowlTom Brady Gisele super bowl

SEE ALSO: 9 glorious photos of Tom Brady's supermodel wife and kids cheering him on at the Super Bowl

MORE: Gisele Bündchen — the world's highest-paid model — retires from the runway

MORE: How Gisele Bündchen went from awkward teenager to the world's highest-paid model

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