The very first time, I used the worst excuse. I won’t say “the worst excuse in the book,” because that transgression in clichés would be very nearly as bad as my telling John, “I have to go to the bathroom,” somewhere between my bra falling to the ground and the faux-innocent trailing of hands along waistbands.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the lightest of touches are the least accidental.
What I should have done was take a minute in the co-ed bathroom of the freshman dorm, returned to John’s room, and told him I wasn’t feeling well, I was too drunk, goodnight. Which would still have been a terrible excuse, but at least my having uttered such a flimsy excuse might have at least given him a hint.
I lied. There’s a second thing I’ve learned. It’s not, as many women speculate, that most men can’t take hints: it’s that most men prefer to interpret hints as red herrings.
I should at least have just gone back to my room, turned off the light, and gone to bed. Then he might have simply assumed what I might have told him about not feeling well – or, better, assumed I was even more drunk than I really was and had no idea what I was doing, or that it was rude. College: the four years of your life where alcohol absolves you of everything.
What I should not have done was return to the gathering in the lounge on the third floor and allow him to find me there, and smile at him across the crowded room and say, “Hey, you’re back! Good to see you!”, delighted, surprised, and lying.
Things I have learned that do not mean what I was taught that they meant in traditional English, particularly when preceded by, “Do you want to come back to my place and”:
- learn to play guitar
- listen to Andrew Bird
- watch American Beauty
- talk about Inception
- make dinner
- make lunch
- have brunch
- see my art
- see my djembe collection
- borrow my copy of Crime and Punishment
- watch Planet Earth
- watch Jaws
- watch Koyaanisqatsi
Maybe they know I’m a runner, so the goal is to transfix me with obscurity and gore rather than gorgeousness and then make a move.
They probably do not realize, however, that there is a particular brand of girl that has not yet had sex and does not yet want to. Not because she’s saving herself, or is against sex generally, but because her mother prefaced the sex talk to her daughter’s eight-year-old self by saying, “Your father and I decided to have sex only once we were in love, we were very comfortable with each other and respected each other very much, and we had both tested negative for AIDS.”
I’ve never been a prude, and I’ve never been afraid of sex, or anything nestled in bed alongside it. But I am attached to my comfort. When someone opens a window in a room, I am the first to feel the draft, and the first to complain if it’s too cold. I will probably leave the conversation along with the room if the window is not promptly shut. If I am hungry, and we are at the table, and food is forthcoming, I will not hear anything that is said until my stomach is satisfied enough to release its vise grip on my ears.
My only prerequisite for having sex, before I’d ever had it, was a certain level of comfort with the person I was to have sex with.
Funny how you can suddenly feel uncomfortable with anyone when your clothes are off.
*
I would apologize to Michael if I ever had the chance. A mutual friend of both of ours told me how, months later, he was till confused about “what happened.”
I’ll tell you “what happened.” What happened was that we were talking about British television and film, finding mutual interests, undoubtedly imagining them to be more unique than they really were for the sake of connection. (You, reader, have undoubtedly seen either the British Office, Doctor Who, Black Books, or at least Mr. Bean. See, and I’m not trying to sleep with all of you.)
What happened was that I said I’d never seen Hot Fuzz. What happened was that he said Oh why don’t you come over and watch it. What happened was that I said yes, not knowing his house was about a mile and a half from campus, forgetting that it was the worst of winter in Ohio and that I was wearing flats.
What happened was that all was going as promised – he set up the movie, we propped ourselves up on his bed, he started the movie – when, two minutes into the opening titles, he said, “We’re not watching this, are we,” and closed the computer.
What happened was that I had been watching it, because I had been trying to see Hot Fuzz for about a year, ever since Anna had recommended it to me. Well, fuck you, Anna, that was a terrible recommendation, one that got me stuck facing either a fumbling undesirable sexual encounter or frostbitten toes on the long walk home.
What happened that night was that I very nearly lost my toes.
*
I saw it coming with Liam, and I wasn’t entirely unwilling. Undecided, as always, but considering.
We had set up a movie in my room, but it “didn’t work.”
“Oh, well,” he said, “what should we do now?”
I was a little excited, and a little nervous. Liam was a handsome guy. He was a tall guy. A very tall guy.
Finally there was nothing left between us but my hand and him. I felt like I was holding the gearshift of something I still wasn’t quite sure I was actually going to ignite and drive.
It wasn’t necessarily a problem, it was something of a surprise how much smaller the car was than I’d anticipated.
And yet, he said, “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
Suddenly, I was completely decided and no longer nervous in the least. I told him, sorry, I wished we could, wished we would – but I had to get up really early in the morning.
That much was actually true, and he knew it. But I wished I’d been lying, and I wished he knew that, too.
*
I’ve tried to be nice about it. I’ve tried my best to let people down easy. When I turn down a kiss I offer a hug. When he worries it’s him, I say, No, it’s not you, it’s just me and the fact that I really, really don’t want to have sex with you.
*
Not much later, I met someone I really liked. I met someone I really liked to spend time with, was attracted to, and felt comfortable with. After all, we spent a really lovely few hours as a winning beer pong team at a party. I was feeling pretty good about him.
However, when that moment rolled around, I felt I had to say something.
“Just so you know,” I noted, “I haven’t actually done this before.”
Jeff’s reaction was, at first, hesitant, but unfazed.
“Oh. Oh. Well – are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’m really sure.”
“Okay.” But he stopped. “I don’t know, it seems like – is this really the way you want to do it, for the first time?”
I told him yes, it didn’t matter; I hadn’t been waiting for anything in particular – I just happened to have not had sex yet. Just happened not to have, as though not having sex simply requires a passive allowance of life’s natural processes to occur.
And yet the more I insisted I wanted to, the more he balked. Not only over the course of the rest of the night, but for four more months. We continued to see each other, and we kept coming awfully close – but it seemed as though the longer we saw each other, and the closer we got, the more reason he saw not to.
This backward logic had things feeling altogether backwards, and roles reversed. I considered telling him to grow a pair, but I didn’t. I more seriously considered offering to lend him mine.
But I didn’t. And we didn’t – until the very last night we spent together before winter break. He was leaving for home the following morning, and I was to go abroad the following semester. We wouldn’t see each other for a long time. Plenty of people start relationships with sex: it seemed as apt a way to definitively end one.
*
The next morning, he left. I had a couple more days on campus. In order to distract myself from what I knew would be a rather melancholic day, the morning Jeff left, I had accepted a brunch date with Sam. At brunch, I accepted Sam’s invitation to go dancing that evening.
I met him in his room, and he taught me a few steps before we headed to the dance space. I opted to ignore the inherent intimacy of being in his room, dancing close to no music at all. We headed to the dance, and we had a good time. We danced together for a while, and then while he danced with other ladies of more appropriate deftness for his skill, I attempted to dance with other partners, gave up, and went to the bathroom. (Really.)
On the way back, though, I caught a glimpse of a TV screen in a lounge in the building: White Christmas was on. It was delightfully, refreshingly sexy in that kind of Bing-Crosby-treating-women-very-appropriately-onscreen-and-everyone-falling-neatly-and-politely-in-love kind of way. Sexy with no sex involved at all.
Sam found me upstairs an hour later, tearing up with a freshman who was letting me share his popcorn because I’d started reaching into the bag for it and he seemed too polite to say no.
Sam asked if I wanted to go back downstairs and dance the last dance with him. I said no, thanks, it’d been fun, but I was tired and I had to go to the bathroom and I also had to get up really early and, frankly, I didn’t owe him anything, and he wasn’t even a very good lead anyway. Then I left.
I didn’t actually say any of that, except the “No, thanks, I’m tired” part. He graciously walked me home and only asked once more, at my door, if I was sure I didn’t want to come up to his room and have some wine and maybe watch a movie.
I’d have liked some wine, and I might even have had the stamina for another movie. But I said no, thank you, again, and goodnight.
It’s a relief to turn something down when you know what it is you’ll be missing.
Tags: college, dating, m.b. guinn, relationships, respect each others boundaries always everyone, sex
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NEVER HAVE SEX ONLY WATCH HOT FUZZ COSIGN
coincidentally that’s the title of my sex tape =/
Well, “watching Koyaanisqatsi” is probably better than ACTUALLY watching Koyaanisqatsi, anyway. But Hot Fuzz is better than both.
I wonder about watching Koyaanisqatsi WHILE “watching Koyaanisqatsi.” I’m not sure which would distract from the other. I think they’d be in deadlock.
I fell asleep watching Koyaanisqatsi in a film class. Everyone was so tired that we took our break early, right after the move instead of halfway through the discussion. I never came back from the break. I have never regretted that decision.
My boyfriend keeps saying he wants to watch Koyaanisqatsi with me, but since he’s a huge film nerd, I have been assuming he wants to actually watch Koyaanisqatsi. Both are probably true, though.
Also, I greatly identify with this article, and am pretty sure that if I’d had a traditional college experience, I would have very similar stories.
“We’re not watching this, are we,” actually broke my heart a little. This was so thoughtful and lovely. People! They are complicated.
Me, too. And I loved this part: “I am attached to my comfort.” I also never wanted to have sex with anyone without being comfortable with them, although I think it’s worked out a little easier for me as I never almost lost my toes. 🙁
I wouldn’t say broke my heart; I got angry. So, so angry. LIKE HOW DARE YOU, MAN. HOW. FUCKING. DARE YOU WITH YOUR FALSE PRETENSES.
And then act later like you didn’t know what happened, please son.
My irritation with this kind of thing tends to be somewhat retroactive, which is also sort of amusing. In the moment, I think my reaction – in my mind – was something like, “Oh – OH. Oh-oh. Oh, no. Ok. Nope. ABANDON SHIP!” During the walk home, I started to think, “Hey, that was actually really lame/annoying.” Once home: “HEY.”
You can only imagine how my feelings about it have augmented four years down the line.
But basically this whole piece is a lamentation of the phenomenon of that initial self-doubting feeling of, “Oh, no, I must have misunderstood something – my bad?”
Unfortunately it’s too late to express this to any of the dudes in this story in person, or in a timely fashion, but JK DUDES, NOT MY BAD. Any and all aura of apology retracted. ~*magic*~
I kind of wanted to grab you and shake you while screaming “you have nothing to apologize for!” several times while reading this. Thank you for reminding me how much being young really sucks.
I know, I kept trying to comment “Good to see that nothing has changed since I was in college!” and failing, because no, not good at all.
This piece of writing was good. And you, M.B., are good, for you set boundaries and articulate them, and you are well on your way to recognizing and insisting on your boundaries more effectively. But I’m bummed that the college students Of The Future (the future being now) are still so terrible about negotiating consent.
Thanks! And just a note: Present M.B. is four years away from these events – this all took place roughly within 2009-2010. And yes, I do wish I could have reassured Past M.B. that she shouldn’t feel bad in the least about bouncing from these scenarios.
It was less a matter of consent, though (not that that’s not ALSO a huge part of things like this, of course), in my particular situation, than it was about negotiating communication, good relationship dynamics, and simply the conventions of courtship, to put it stuffily. I think what Past M.B. suffered from was the impression of a rigid structure to said courtship, whereby to perform a certain number of the steps that typically lead to specific results – but not follow through on all those steps – would be perceived as rude or somehow dishonest.
I think what we need to communicate to College Students From Here On Out (and, if possible, to past ones — isn’t time travel a thing already? jeezus) is that if there isn’t clear and direct communication about expectations in the FIRST place, before any of those steps begin, then there is absolutely no move they could make in the way of bowing out that would be “wrong” or rude. And, of course, even with communication and deliberate decisions, minds are always allowed to change.
These things seem SO clear NOW, don’t they?
“if there isn’t clear and direct communication about expectations in the FIRST place, before any of those steps begin, then there is absolutely no move they could make in the way of bowing out that would be “wrong” or rude. And, of course, even with communication and deliberate decisions, minds are always allowed to change. ”
Someone print that up in 48 pt type and plaster it to the inside of every bathroom stall in every college campus in the world, please.
This is very, very close to my experience, but written so much more insightfully than I could have done.
Oh, I most definitely feel this. I remember arranging a date with a guy where he was supposed to bring over a DVD I really wanted to watch. We’d talked quite a bit about how I didn’t have a DVD player so we’d have to watch it on my computer etc. The asshole didn’t even bother to bring the DVD and seemed suprised when I asked about it. And this was only the 4th date, too, the first of which was coffee at Tim Hortons (which is probably where I should have given up on him) so that seemed pretty damn presumptuous to think I’d just jump right on his dick as soon as he made it through the door.
Tim Horton’s does not count as a date. It is, like, the bare minimum for human interaction. On the plus side, there’s usually more than one exit.
This is why I’m going to teach any children I might have that 1) sex can be a wonderful thing for two adults who are in love and 2) they should NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, bone college-age dudes.
Adding “Do you want to go to my truck and get a beer” as a Thing That Does Not Actually Mean What You Think It Means.
the natural ending to “Do you want to go to my truck and get a beer” should definitely be “if you know what I mean”
but then again! I got SO much shit in college for exiting a small gathering with my then-makeout buddy under the supposed pretense of “I’m gonna go burn him a CD.” to the point that “burning someone a CD” became a kind of code in my stupid-freshman social circle for a while.
….but the thing was, I actually DID just burn him a CD. of Cyndi Lauper’s greatest hits. we may’ve made out for a bit too, but that was secondary.
…and it WAS Cyndi Lauper’s greatest hit.
If you know what I mean.
Oh man, the euphemisms! I think we should just assume that no one watches movies at home ever and that whenever someone says they are going home to watch a movie we should read that as “do sex things.” A guy on okcupid just messaged me to ask if I wanted to “get together and watch some movies.” What the hell, man? I’m going to go over to your house and “watch movies” with some dude I have never met based on the six sentences in your profile? Is this your first day on the internet/as a human person? Sometimes I wish all romantic ambiguity were ritually cleansed from the earth and we just entered into relationships with legal contracts.
I feel like “has not considered that many women would not want to go immediately to a dude’s home to watch movies, nor imagined why not” is sufficient grounds for delete/ignore. What ever his reasons were–too broke for bars? too boring for other ideas? still in college, maybe?–he failed the empathy test.
I don’t disagree but: LITERALLY ANYTHING is sufficient grounds for delete/ignore.
This was an early date idea I proposed to at least a couple girls in college with no intention of putting moves on (and indeed, no moves were put). For me, it was just cheap and private, and that’s really all there was to it. I think I missed out on the part about picking romantic movies or at least comedies, though… one of my choices was “A History of Violence,” and… there was no second date. (Although it may have been the quality of the movie more than the subject matter that reflected poorly on my judgment.)
Fact, I recently hung out at a dude’s apartment, he put on A DOCUMENTARY ABOUT MINING, and we still had sex. So you could do worse for mood-setting than Viggo.
(WE WATCHED THE ENTIRE MOVIE AND THEN HAD SEX AFTER. The more I state this as fact the more I really question my choices in life.)
College Boyfriend and I used to watch movies at home all the time. Yes, cheap and private. And we dated almost a year before any “watching movies at home” happened. And our first date movie was The Producers. Highly recommended a first date movie! Anyone who can’t appreciate Gene Wilder flipping the hell out is unworthy of my attentions in my book.
Movies I Have Chosen for Dates, AKA Evenings that Ended Badly (Mostly in Tears):
From Dusk Till Dawn: I did not realize this was a) Tarantino, b) gory, or c) scary
The Green Mile: I started ugly-crying about an hour in and continued for FORTY-FIVE MINUTES after the credits while he awkwardly patted my back
Magnolia: raining frogs? WTF? Why is this so long?
American History X: horrifying.
Shawshank Redemption: reduces me to sobbing every. damn. time. willIneverlearnprobablynot
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: SIRIUSLY, PastTika?!?
The Exorcist (the theater re-release): I don’t watch horror movies at all. To the extent that I was scared by Scream because I didn’t know it was a spoof. Why did I think I could watch this and not turn into a gibbering wreck? No one will ever know.
I once saw ‘The Reader’ on a first date. Maximum ugly-crying. No second date.
My favorite way of excusing myself when things got unexpectedy hot N’ heavy and spending the night quickly became implicit was ‘Oh, I don’t have a case for my contacts or my toothbrush see you later BYE’
Frankly, this was also a go-to for me even once I was having sex because I liked to wake up masochistically early and legitimately couldn’t be decent enough to wait for the other person to wake up. That and I’m also always ravenous in the morning and need to consume food immediately upon waking, and I knew I’d turn what was supposed to be Cute Pillow Talk into Irritable Hunger-Induced Passive Aggression.
So if I actually cared about the person and wanted to see them again, I’d try to avoid revealing the LYFEMONSTER that I am in the mornings too soon. (“Morning person” really isn’t a socially acceptable identity in college anyway.)
Yes! And also, I had a the paranoia that I’d have a surprise morning poo. I just…want to be comfortable and not in a boundaries way, in a my own bed way.
My awkward way of negotiating around this in college was to tell any guy ever that I wasn’t going to have sex with him long before that was even a possibility, so they were only a little surprised when all we did was make out. Which is not to say that they might have thought there was a possibility, but they were usually wrong.
I definitely had this experience in college too! “…but I actually WANTED to watch this movie!” 🙁
In my experience, though, I’ve met guys I’ve really, really liked and with whom I’ve really, really wanted to spend time, but once it’s clear I’m not going to “watch a movie,” I’m promptly dumped. I don’t date anymore for this reason; it became too depressingly clear that what I want and what the men I keep meeting want are two different things: there’s no happy medium, no man who wants to watch an actual movie with me. It’s… horrible really. Thanks for writing this. It made me feel slightly better about the whole situation.
Someday there will be a man who wants to watch a movie AND “watch a movie” with you!
On the other end of the spectrum, I started dating a guy in college because he asked if I wanted to “come over and watch Star Wars,” and I got to his place to find out he was serious (I was actually down for some nonsense). We watched the original trilogy and dated for like 8 months after that, so.
why has no one ever asked me over to watch Star Wars with them
I’m just saying I would probably love them forever; that’s all.
I have the DVDs with the original theatrical releases on them… *wink wink*
no but seriously, come watch Star Wars with me.
Coming over right now in my X-Wing pilot hoodie which I totally wore today.
I want your hoodie.
My boyfriend asked me back to his apartment to watch Dr. Who on our second date – we did, in fact, watch Dr. Who. (There was also a lot of making out, but I was very firm that Dr. Who Time and Makeout Time were DIFFERENT TIMES.)
I think dudes have been conditioned to think that, if a woman consents to spending time with you alone, for any reason, you gain ownership of her vagina.
Man, maybe THIS is why chaperoning was been a thing for so long.
A guy invited me back to his house, at 2am, to help him write a letter of resignation for his job (which he hated).
This turned out not to be a euphemism at all. I helped with the letter and we went to sleep.
(We ended up dating for three years)
One of the reasons I’ve stopped dating people is because there’s a vernacular language that I’ll never understand. I’ll be talking to a date, feel a shadow passed over us, and realize that I had just been asked to provide a password and failed.
Ugh dating. It’s The Actual Social Worst and I do not blame you in the least. I stopped dating because apparently you’re not supposed to talk about things you care deeply about on a first date? Especially if those things are women’s/minority issues or opinions on men’s fashion or how amazing Baz Luhrmann’s films are or books or really anything of consequence? Just about how well/poorly your start-up/venture fund/IPO is going.
FWIW, my security question is generally a suspicious, “are you a Libertarian?!?” but often it’s unnecessary because my date just said, “I don’t really read now that I’m out of college and don’t have to anymore.”
Thank you so much for this. I had a similar college experience (in Ohio!) though it was less eventful. Now I’m out of college and terrified of navigating any sort of Real Person relationship because I’m hopelessly unprepared. But it’s comforting to know that there are dozens of us.
I am so fondly nostalgic for one particular college-era date on a rainy spring weekend morning that consisted of “do you want to come over and watch Brazil?”
This all reminds me of high school more than college. You kissed me so that means you want to have sex with me was a very common belief with the guys I went out with.
The first guy I met in college asked me over to watch a movie and we did! We actually waited almost a year before the sex bit and now 25 years later are still together and married. I am so sad to hear that he really is a rare person in this regard.
Spouse-type-person, who I have now been living with for just over 9 years, was the first person to come back to my place and be actually decent. I was so confused (and so drunk) and this is how it apparently went down (I only remember bits of it, because SO DRUNK):
After our first date (I kissed him after he said something about Joseph Campbell and the monomyth and Star Wars), he walked me home, because I was hella drunk, and then he tried to get me to drink water, and go to bed, but I immediately began complaining loudly “why aren’t you trying to take my clothes off? don’t you think i’m attractive? you don’t like me!” and he continued to refuse to undress me, and then I started throwing up in my bathtub, and trying to crawl INTO the bathtub with my own vomit, and he sat on the bathroom floor for over an hour, holding me back from getting into the tub while also prodding me to drink more water, while I tried to sing “silent night” to myself to calm myself down (I used to do that as a child when I had the flu and was vomiting, I still don’t know why that of all songs) but I couldn’t remember the words so I just kept humming the tune and saying “the virgin mary is pregnant.” When I was done throwing up he walked me to the bed, and I again complained that he wasn’t trying to get my clothes off, and then complained that he wasn’t even getting into the bed with me. I woke up the next morning to find him sleeping on the floor next to my bed on an assortment of couch cushions, where he had stayed to make sure I was OK. And then he went home. That’s it! and I was so astounded based on previous “let me walk you home to make sure you’re OK” experiences (apparently 97% of the time “let me walk you home to make sure you’re OK” means “you seem drunk enough to let me have sex with you and if we do it at your house i won’t have to clean up or anything”) that I decided to keep him.
I don't disagree but: LITERALLY ANYTHING is sufficient grounds for delete/ignore.
“Things I have learned that do not mean what I was taught that they meant in traditional English”
Add:
– “I want to play you this awesome Led Zeppelin song!”
In this case the gender roles were kinda flipped. She invited me over, but then also was waiting for me to make The Move but I never did because I had NO IDEA until probably MONTHS LATER. Like, we were sitting on her bed and she was probably makin’ sex-eyes at me, and I was like “cool song, peace out”. Guys, I was even INTO HER (she was cool and hot, so to speak) and still, nope, didn’t even occur to me. My Straight Male Cluelessness is so bad, I can’t even tell when a pretty lady wants to kiss faces.
P.S. The song was “When The Levee Breaks” and it IS awesome. She got me into Led Zeppelin, so it’s all good.
"Things I have learned that do not mean what I was taught that they meant in traditional English"
Add:
– "I want to play you this awesome Led Zeppelin song!"
In this case the gender roles were kinda flipped. She invited me over, but then also was waiting for me to make The Move but I never did because I had NO IDEA until probably MONTHS LATER. Like, we were sitting on her bed and she was probably makin' sex-eyes at me, and I was like "cool song, peace out". Guys, I was even INTO HER (she was cool and hot, so to speak) and still, nope, didn't even occur to me. My Straight Male Cluelessness is so bad, I can't even tell when a pretty lady wants to kiss faces.
P.S. The song was "When The Levee Breaks" and it IS awesome. She got me into Led Zeppelin, so it's all good.
…and it WAS Cyndi Lauper's greatest hit.
If you know what I mean.
My irritation with this kind of thing tends to be somewhat retroactive, which is also sort of amusing. In the moment, I think my reaction – in my mind – was something like, "Oh – OH. Oh-oh. Oh, no. Ok. Nope. ABANDON SHIP!" During the walk home, I started to think, "Hey, that was actually really lame/annoying." Once home: "HEY."
You can only imagine how my feelings about it have augmented four years down the line.
But basically this whole piece is a lamentation of the phenomenon of that initial self-doubting feeling of, "Oh, no, I must have misunderstood something – my bad?"
Unfortunately it's too late to express this to any of the dudes in this story in person, or in a timely fashion, but JK DUDES, NOT MY BAD. Any and all aura of apology retracted. ~*magic*~
This is lovely. I really wish I’d had the sense to do any of those things instead of having the awkward, un-fun sex that characterized too much of my college sex life…
Yay, for this. Yay, for all of this. As someone who has kind of fallen into an “asexual by default” identification, it’s really nice to hear stories like this from other people. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with you or that you’re trying to lead people on – it just…kind of doesn’t happen. And that’s not as big a deal as others make it out to be.
"Do you want to come over and watch X-Files" was mine. It would have been lovely if that had actually been the case and I wouldn't loathe that person as much as I do now.
Oh well, what's one more man out of your life except good news!