Over the summer I called into question this nonchalance toward cutting off all romantic partners that never earned the title of “MY partner” when it came time to actually tell them that I would not be seeing them any longer. Even though we had spent loads of time together out getting drinks, going for walks or in bed, I was incredibly tempted to dismiss it all and just use my lablelessness as a fog cover to fade away into obscurity.
All in all, sharing a room with a virtual stranger for the first year of college is potentially the most significant cockblock you will ever experience. Even when they aren’t physically present, their influence lingers and dramatically contributes to your celibacy. For the sake of yourself, your future partner(s) and the individual(s) you share space with, get to know your roommate.
Working in a women’s assisted living and dementia care facility has meant effectively working in a sorority house full of 80-year-old cougars who’ve forgotten their ages and most of their manners.
No other student newspaper is brave enough to cover the story of what happens in the bedroom, the often unreported stage where so many current events happen, like someone losing their virginity or orgasming for the hundredth time. So many actors strut and fret their hour upon the stage and then are heard no more, a tale told by an idiot like me full of sound and fury signifying nothing but that’s what life is. Life is one big sex column we’re all writing in our heads.
I’m stepping off of my soap box and placing myself under the critical eye. In truth, in someone else’s story, I’m the dick who hurt them, and in all honesty, it s rightfully deserved.