End of an Era

College Hookup Culture: Sad that it’s over, horny because it happened.

Nobody wants to hear about the shitty sex you have in college so I’ll only tell you about the guy that I fucked all throughout it and into adulthood – this saga could be a series on its own.

“Is there a (you don’t get to know my real name) in here?” This highly intoxicated man with a handle bar mustache barged into the smoke circle upstairs in the frat house. I hear my name and raise my hand. Token socialite of the stoners, I was more intrigued than I was confused. He comes and sits on the arm of my chair and drapes one arm around my shoulders and picks my chin up with his other hand, “I heard you’re the coolest chick here.” “True,” I answer, “but who told you that?” “One of your pledges.” He shows me the Bumble message exchange, I laugh because how are you hitting on me in the same thread you are hitting on a girl pledging my sorority. The guy that has been doting on me hand and foot the entire party until this moment is sitting on the couch next to us anxiously tapping his foot.

Immediately, I’m into mustache man. He is definitely not my type, but he has an energy that draws me in. He says “come with me” and I do, I am typically submissive but usually I play harder to get. We start talking in a private room, and then start kissing in that private room. When all of a sudden we hear a knock at the door.

“I know you’re in there. You stole my girl.” We retract our tongues from each other’s mouth to laugh about the guy outside. Okay, first of all I am NOT his girl… “Yeah, you’re mine,” mustache man grabs me by the nape of my neck and immediately starts kissing me again. The banging on the door continues, “I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE!”

What the fuck is this guys problem… I didn’t even kiss him. “Here, lets make-out on the door so we can block him from coming in…” BAD IDEA. This friend-zoned man on the other side of the door barged in like Ted Bundy and a starved lion’s love child. He quite literally knocks me out of the way and the two men start fist fighting over me. I wish I could say this is an exaggeration, but it’s not. They are now drawing a crowd and the President of the frat escorts me into his room as if I’m the President of the United States and tells me to stay in there until things calm down. My friend Emily, who clearly just fucked the frat president lays there high off her ass in lingerie like “woaaaaah what’s going on.”

What felt like an hour later, the psychopath comes walking in like he was a man of honor – respectfully, I cursed him out and washed him away down the denile river.

Where is mustache man? I run out the room and go looking for him, I find him down a side hallway icing his face and profusely apologize. He stopped me mid word-vomit, “I know it’s not your fault.” We pick right up where we left off, tongue down eachothers throat; “I know somewhere more private.”

A CLOSET?! He takes me to a Harry Potter closet underneath the stairs of a frat house. It had a window seat and an odd charm to it, but I can’t get over the disbelief that this man is trying to fuck me in a closet. “Hold on, I know.” He comes back about 3 minutes later with a blanket, a throw pillow and a candle. “Romantic, huh?” The bar is quite literally on the floor and this man just took a punch to the face for me. We had crazy sex in this closet, and everyone at the party knew it.

We go on to have the craziest relationship of my college days: hot sex, genuine friendship, and a connected energy… I continue to joke that he is my husband, we just have a right person wrong time downfall… and I’ll get to that story – but first let’s talk about the canon moments of our sex:

• Harry Potter Closet
• Hawaiian Date Party
  • In the locker room
  • In the bathroom
  • In the staircase
  • Outside on the balcony
• Frat House
  • On the washing machine
  • On his desk
  • Climbed through the 2nd story window then banged me
  • One point we were on Facetime with my bestie
• In one of my sorority sisters rooms
• On the side of my sorority house

Looking back, there’s really only been a few times, and I can go into details as I wrote them all down, but the purpose of this man is deeper than the crazy sex we’ve had in our one-off hookups over the course of our 4 years in college.

First day of my senior year, I met this new man at my college town dive bar… he looked like Ken but was FAR from perfect. I wanted him to be perfect and that’s the delusion I formed in my head of him. Mustache man always stayed close, but far. He kept trying to make an effort to see me this time around, which it usually was a “see you when I see you and I’m all yours” type of thing. I ignored his advances as I had something hot and exciting on my plate, and this man was my typical type.

BOOM. After begging for this new guys attention and getting so wasted to the point where I cried about why he didn’t love me… he asked me out out of pity. I broke the news to mustache man and he just said, “I truly hope you’re happy.” It’s like he knew. Anyways, after two months and one allegation of him cheating on me, he had the audacity to break up with me and back to mustache man I went.

He approached me differently this time, he asked to take me on a real date. “Sex with you just feels different, nobody makes me feel this way.” I couldn’t agree more, but a date felt weird, we had that chemistry in the hookup world and we never tapped into it outside of that.

I feel insecure. My ex apparently cheated on me and at this point I believed he didn’t. This man that has only wanted me for sex up until this point is taking me out on a date and all I can think is that it’s a scheme to get into my pants more often. He plans a nice date, especially for college seniors, and we go. He’s nervous and talking about communism in China (he’s an international poly-sci major so it makes sense for him) and I’m zoning out wishing we could fuck to take my mind off the asshole who broke my heart.

I left the date, sobbed the whole way home, and took my ex home from the bar that night. We started dating again, for 4 years, the next morning.

I had mustache man, telling me how much fun he had, and how he wants to take me out again, the next day. I had to block his number and mourn the connected energy we shared and forced that feeling with my Ex.

While the story of my ex is one that will take up many journal entires, the story of mustache man is still being written. We met up after 5 years on the corner of some street in Midtown, where we made out across a hotel bar and caught up… that’s a journal entry I”ll share another time, but I’m currently waiting for his text back.