Sex on My Window, Tears on My Pillow
Posted: Sunday, September 26, 2010
by Anna Thomas
The Hookup Column
I remember the violation vividly. It was Sunday morning, 5 am. I was sound asleep in my apartment located in a residence hall complex filled to the brim with college freshmen. At the time, I was an Assistant Resident Director, and one of two authority figures in a sea of college students high on life and Proactive face wash. In my slumber, I had no idea I was moments from losing my innocence.
This particular morning, at dusk, I heard the bushes rustle. I woke instantly. Was I dreaming? Rustle, rustle. I didn't leap to my escape plan like I had planned so methodically in my mind before. I was frozen, listening. I heard a thump. My heart raced. Then I heard another thump, my heart jumped in my throat I reached for my cell phone.
Then silence.
Slap! That's an odd sound
Slap! I tilted my head like a shiatsu watching its owner pee. Slap! Okay, this is getting weird. Slap! Slap! Slap! then moans.
Ewwwwwww! Student's are having sex against my window!
"Okay, that's it!" I said to myself, completely livid that I had been woken up and forced to listen to late night Cinemax. I was going to catch these punks (although what would I have done if I had light their cigarettes?) First, I need my flashlight. Second, my bra. I scurried in the dark, frickin' and frackin' like Yosemity Sam, barely noticing that the slapping sounds lasted about 3 seconds before I heard the blissful sounds of post-coitus sighs.
Gross.
Then, out of the blue, I heard a man say, "Oh my God, what the hell are you guys doing!?" One bra strap in, I ran to the window and peeked an eye through the blinds. The girl screamed, the man she just had sex with laughed, and they both went running in opposite directions. Her skirt was hiked up and I could see her full moon shine brightly in the moonlight.
I slipped back in to bed with enough adrenaline in my veins to lift a car off of a baby. It was sex, not a murder scene, but I was fired up nonetheless. I must admit, I was also a bit excited I had such a great story to tell my staff on Monday.
But it took awhile to fall asleep. I couldn't help but think of the young woman against my window. I was tempted to think of the man, but since he ran away laughing I decided not to waste my energy worrying about his well-being. The "incident" was obviously after a night of a partying. Since they didn't run in the same direction, I wondered if she even knew him. It all happened so fast, I worried they didn't use protection. I also wondered why she faked post-coitus blissful sighs. Three seconds a female orgasm doesn't make. From my limited perspective, all she seemed to gain from the experience was a herpes scare, a cob-webby soiled bum and a potentially soiled reputation if her partner or Mr. Oh my God! decided to talk. I sighed and rolled over to my other pillow.
Let me be the first to admit, I made many assumptions while I stared at the ceiling. They could have been a loving couple in a committed relationship, looking to spice up the action in the boudoir with a hot, 3 second sex session against a stranger's filthy, cob-webby window. However, in the notorious words of Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw, "I couldn't help but wonder "
Is she okay? How will she feel when the buzz wears off? Is she mortified that she was caught? If they didn't use protection, is she now worried about consequences to her body? Will she feel shame naturally about had happened against my window, or will others make her feel ashamed? Will she feel used, stupid or scared? I wondered if I was projecting my own feelings on to her. For all I know, she could feel hot and powerful. I didn't think hot and powerful ran away screaming, but what do I know anyway?
It was then that I dedicated a lot of my research and energy looking deeper in to the campus "hook up" phenomenon. I spoke with several young women about their experiences and many of them talked about their many hookups laughing at it all in one breath, and crying in the next. Most found it incredibly important that I understand: they aren't really like this. Like what? I wondered.
I often sat quietly listening to stories that sounded awfully reminiscent of sexual assault, or were just plain sad. None seemed particularly exhilarating, but some hookup stories sounded like a big waste of time. How could they possibly be passing their classes with their vaginas having full time jobs? If having an over-worked and under-appreciated vagina is considered sexual freedom, someone put me in an orange jumpsuit and throw me in a cell with a woman called Big Daddy because I don't know what freedom is anymore.
During a period of time when the "right of passage" expects balls to the wall experimentation on all fronts, I just couldn't understand what all the tears were for. Why were women apologetic about a social system that applauds and often expects short skirts, stilettos and no-strings attached sex? Loose (no pun intended) sexual behavior was rewarded in the scene so why so blue bugaboo?
There's something happening here, under the layers, to the girl who brags and laughs about her sexual liaisons then cries when asked about how she feels. There's something to the girl who flashes her breasts while simulating lesbian sex with her girlfriends to Girls Gone Wild cameras, only to sue the company later for mental distress.
Exploring what hides underneath the layers is why I decided to write this column.
Most women want to feel powerful. Powerful, like a man. Drink like a man, have sex like a man, have no regrets just like a man. If sex is power, then what greater tool does a woman have than her sexuality?
Over time, I started to learn a little bit more about what the tears are for. Not every woman is the same, so not every explanation is a one-size fits all, but a resounding theme is this: The hookup scene isn't what they thought it would be and what seems like power doesn't feel so powerful when people call you a slut.
It's about power. It's about freedom and experimentation. It's about loving our sexuality and our bodies. It's about the sexual double standard. It's about our identity and discovering who we really are. It's about mistakes. It's about forgiveness. Most of the time, it has nothing to do with sex.
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Top-level comments on this article: (4 total)Welcome Ma'am to SearchWarp...
It's a good share...thanks..
Regards, Chiradeep
Haha nice article! Welcome to SearchWarp!
I loved the way you tell things. I hope you come back and share more of your opinions with us.
Welcome to SearchWarp ~ Grace
Hi Anna. Welcome to SearchWarp. Thanks for a well-written piece and thanks for sharing your thoughts.
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