When I came to college, I told myself I was entering a new phase of life and leaving an old one. A major hallmark of the new lifestyle was my own bedroom, where anyone I wanted to could sleep over -- even on a school night. This also meant the abandonment of a high school tradition: car sex.
Now that I have my own apartment, I always have a place to go. No parents! At least for me, in high school boys weren't allowed in my bedroom, especially with the door closed. Sure, there were basements or living rooms, but your ears had to be tuned to hear the floor squeak or the door open, which had a tendency to kill the mood.
In light of this, it was just easier to leave the house, and as sad as it now sounds, sexual refuge was found on four wheels.
With a car, the possibilities were endless! Well, not really. But you could drive to any parking lot you wanted to. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but it was better than the alternative. Never mind the fact that it was cramped and made some things physically impossible.
It's not like cars were designed for this sort of activity. Shocking, I know. But, in your own little corner of the mall/Wal-Mart/school/anywhere else I've missed parking lot, you and your significant other could "enjoy" a steamy romp without the fear of your parents or siblings entering and the rest of your life coming to an end right before your naked eyes.
College is a revolution, a liberation. No more car sex! We deserve better! Variety is the spice of life. Opportunities are everywhere, but most obviously in the privacy of our own bedrooms. (Note: After my parents read this, of which chances are fairly good, I will be solely responsible for paying my own rent.)
Back to the point: Location is everything, and the possibilities for them are endless. Stepping out of the car gives you space to stretch your legs and take off running in the bedroom. I have gotten significant feedback on some unique as well as all too common places of play, thanks again to my anonymous survey online two weeks ago.
We'll start with some not so creative ones: kitchen table, shower, beach, pool, hot tub (please note, water is not a good lubricant. Cosmo told me so), frat houses (no way!), balcony and a staggering number of washing machines.
But onto some more interesting ones: an airplane. Seriously, I can't believe people do this. How do you not feel like the world's biggest ass/pervert when you come out and there's a line? Not to mention, people can see you going in there together, fools. Some people noted hitting home runs on baseball fields (lame pun: check), hammocks, which I can imagine uses a lot of strength and balance, because quite frankly I fall out of hammocks when I'm sitting by myself. Sober.
But hey if you are up for the challenge.
Now the more interesting ones, for lack of better terminology: In a casket? Please seek professional help. Your roommate's/sister's bed? You are going to burn in the pits of Hell. A Port-a-Potty: You and the casket person should hook up. A car on a highway: impressive. Lifeguard chair, walk in refrigerator, in the snow, woods, or CHEM 402 and on a jet ski: worthy accomplishments, all of them.
"It's a Small World" ride at Disneyland: Awesome, but if you defiled some child's innocent memory of the Happiest Place on Earth, you too will go to Hell. In a casket with a stained interior. Variety is good but you can go too far.
Ultimately, I sensed a bit of nostalgia in some responses I received: "a railing on top of a mountain in Italy, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea during sunset... with a complete skank."
So keep me posted -- e-mail me with your most impressive locations, purely for my own entertainment. And remember: You are likely old enough to get a hotel room, and the rates for a night at the Econo Lodge are pretty affordable. So if you're not feeling up to the challenges of the hammock or the danger of Scott Stadium, just promise that I won't find you knocking boots in your Civic on the side of Rugby Road.
Gretchen Zimmerman is a Cavalier Daily sex columnist. Gretchen can be reached at gretchen@cavalierdaily.com.
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