I’m going to put this bluntly, seniors: Our slut clock is ticking.
I don’t mean to shock or upset anyone, but the truth of the matter is, once our four (or six or seven) years of college dry up, our time of guilt free “sexual freedom” (the PC term for essentially being prostitutes for alcohol) does too. In the real world, you can’t wear a Hooters tank top to a party. You can’t dance the way we dance (unless you pursue a career in that sector). You can’t go home with a stranger and still be at the same address as your home. Everything will change the second we get those diplomas. We will have to start being responsible with our genitals.
I’m not looking forward to it.
But what is even more worrisome is what happens once we become aware of this time bomb phenomenon. I fear that our only recourse will be to put our sexuality into overdrive for these final months and get As, Bs and Cs not just on our report cards, but also behind the word “hepatitis.” Yes, we’re on a schedule here and our time is limited. But we don’t have cancer–this isn’t that terrible Queen Latifa movie The Last Holiday. We don’t have to squeeze a lifetime of sexual activity into a semester and a half. Or squeeze ourselves into any other uncomfortable situations or spandex pants.
For a case study, see Halloween. I don’t have to explain to anyone what Halloween is about in college–forget T or T, it’s all T and A. And this probably is our last chance to dress up as a slutty ninja turtle, or whatever childhood character you choose to put “slutty” in front of. But that’s no reason to go to inappropriate extremes this Halloween, just because it may be our last. The last thing I want to see is Hermione Granger with nipple tassels, or any subversion of the like. What I’m saying is, enjoy your final days of sluttiness free of societal repercussions, but don’t take advantage of them. Don’t take advantage of being taken advantage of.
And don’t look at it so much as stocking up for the winter–we’re not bears here, although I’ve heard that bears can be real sluts (damn you, Winnie the Pooh, and your bedroom eyes). Look at it more as a payment plan. I like to see things from the perspective of a Skank Bank–I put aside some in my savings so that if I’m ever lonely and desperate, I can draw upon it, but I mostly use my checking account, which is based on more immediate interactions. So yes, you can make a few deposits in your savings. But concentrate more on your checking- live in the moment. Hey, we’re college students. No one expects us to be fiscally responsible.
I know some people have chosen to make very few deposits in the skank bank in their college career, and that’s fine. It doesn’t mean they’re poor, just waiting to make a substantial deposit when they have a really worthwhile opportunity. And others have made many, many deposits, which is fine too. These people are practicing for when they have really important interactions to budget. Or maybe some people actually have had these important interactions, and have started a joint account that will last a lifetime. Everyone handles their assets differently in college, and no one way is right or wrong.
We’ve all been judged based on how we balanced this bank account in college, no matter which direction we went. Some of us have some debt, and that can be embarrassing. Others are misers, and Ebenezer gets a bad rap too. It’s probably unfair how much stock we put in this market, and I’m sure we all wish we could erase it all. But the sad truth is, it’s only going to get worse once we enter the real world. Our bank accounts, monetarily and skankily, will matter progressively more as move up in the world. After all, the two most important things in this society are money and sex. And Big Macs.
I hope we can all come out of college, no matter what our bank account says, with a tolerance for the different ways of handling our “finances.” Tolerance is probably the greatest lesson of college–tolerance for that roommate who liked the musical Annie a bit excessively, tolerance for the jocks, or the drama kids, or whatever group was your polar opposite, tolerance for different ways of learning, thinking, sleeping, eating, socializing, and internalizing. Sure, it’d be good to know basic math and analogies and other things that will show up on the GRE and beyond, but as long as I have learned tolerance, I can at least tolerate the 200 I’m probably going to score.
And this doesn’t just apply to our sex lives–in our final months of college, we may find ourselves budgeting all of our experiences. I hope we can avoid this. Yes, sometimes I’d like to keep my last days of guiltless debauchery trapped in crystal medallions like in the original Care Bears, but I’d rather live them and enjoy them. Don’t get so wrapped up in making memories that you forget to live. We only get four years here (unless your parents are rich and inattentive).
I hope I can make beautiful memories with each one of you in these final semesters. And no, that is not a carnal invitation (unless you happen to love discussing Tolstoy and have abnormally defined abdominal muscles).
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