When my editors e-mailed to say that this was my last column, I was stumped. What was the one thing that I hadn’t written about that I couldn’t leave without doing? There are so many topics that I didn’t get the chance to cover – sex etiquette, pornography, anal sex, the rules of the random hook-up and the use of food products during sex being just a sample of my untapped ideas.
Then there were the ideas that friends and students have e-mailed me that I found either too bizarre or disgusting; people who dress up as furry animals to have sex, people who have sex with furry animals, peeing on someone as sexual stimulation and sex while menstruating. See, I told you they were bizarre and disgusting.
I also considered printing my answers to some of the stranger emails I got in response to my column. I decided that would take too long, but to those who wrote me, I have just this to say:
1. I am not a psychologist. I have only taken one psych class and didn’t even do that well in it. My columns simply state my opinions, opinions I’ve formed without any scientific basis. They are usually things my friends and I discuss after returning home from the bar. And yes, I am well aware that sex is not just something to talk casually about. Yes, sex can be very loving and very special. But let’s be honest, do you think anyone wants to read about that? No, they want to read about road head and doing it on the 50-yard line, so that’s what I give them.
2. I am not a matchmaker and I do not run a sorority girl escort service. I don’t make housecalls to dorms and I can’t help you meet people or give you tips on how to meet people. I’ve been with the same person for close to four years. I barely think I would know how to meet someone new. I live vicariously through my single friends. I would like to help you find the perfect mate, but that is not my area of expertise.
3. I am not a man hater. Yes, I make fun of men, but only because they are easy targets, especially when it comes to sex. If you are one of the many men who have e-mailed me to say that you think that I treat you unfairly, you should read the stories I get from women. Men deserve to be made fun of. If you have a problem with it, apply for a column.
Anyway, while I was sitting in front of a blank computer screen watching the minutes tick away and my editors becoming nervous as their deadline approached, I realized that I couldn’t decide what to write about because I’m too worried about graduating to think about sex.
April is a strange month here at school. The weather is nice (okay, it’s supposed to be nice) and everyone’s looking forward to the end of classes, which means naked people squirming on the Cube. But in addition to the Naked Mile, the end of classes also signals, for seniors, the end of life as we now know it. I realized that I could write about college sex etiquette or about using food as a prop during sex but that’s not what my friends are talking about anymore. Instead, they’re talking about how sex changes when we graduate.
One friend asked me, “How am I ever going to be able to tell whether a guy is a complete psycho who’s going to take me home to chop me into a thousand pieces or if he’s normal? Is it even safe to think about meeting anyone at a bar?” Let me tell you, she’s never once been concerned about the safety of going home with someone she met at Touchdown’s or Rick’s. Yes, she’s a little more worried about dating post-college than most of my friends, but her concerns are valid. At school we’re in a little cocoon where we think that just because someone is in our English class, they are perfectly safe. Most of the people I’ve talked to here are concerned only that their one-night stand will wake up as they’re trying to sneak out. Michigan has provided it’s students with a false sense of safety. The real world is a different story. It’s like what my kindergarten teacher always told us; be careful and use the buddy system.
My friends are wondering whether their college relationships can survive the hardship of suddenly becoming long distance. It’s going to be a big change for those who are used to semi-living with their significant others (okay, and having sex on command, whenever they want it). I have one friend who, when talking about her college boyfriend, dramatically flung herself onto her bed and moaned, “Oh my God, the first time I see him after July is going to be at Christmas. I might actually have to buy a vibrator.” Instead of talking about sex, we’re talking about the fact that we’re not going to be having any.
Yes, this is definitely a strange time, not only for seniors but also for those moving back home for the summer. It’s rough, you know you’re not going to be taking anyone back home to a bedroom that still has dinosaurs on the wallpaper and a mother who wakes up every time you come home late. School might be ending, but enjoy the time you still have left. There’s always time later to worry about the real world.
– Caitlin Nish can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.