You know: one of the issues you run into, when you have blogged for a reasonably long enough time about lady stuff, is that sooner or later all the stories start to look the same. Oh, look! A movie has come out, and it looks kind of sexist! Oh, hey! Someone was way too flippant about rape! Oh, check it out! A lady said it was empowering to be scantily clad in a photo, and now some of us are going to be a little over-the-top in our denial that it is empowering (which it’s not), and then someone else will take offense to that because of the over-the-topness that sort of inadvertently spilled over into hating scantily clad ladies in general (which is bad), and sooner or later we will all be going at each other like a bunch of soccer hooligans! But: haven’t you written about all of these things before, young lady blogger? Haven’t you written about them many a time? Oh, and in a related note, some young man writing for a student newspaper and/or minor blog was a jerk about heterosexual intercourse! Ugh, you’ve done that one too. So often. Ennui!
…Wait. Roll that last one back. Could it… could it BE? I mean, sure, it looks like your standard “young man writing for college newspaper is jerk about intercourse” thing. Which is, in and of itself, not that interesting. (Frat boys are terrible! Film at 11!) But the piece itself is just – well, it’s beautiful, is what it is. The sheer volume of cliches! The clarity of its misogyny! The simultaneous lack of originality and power to create intense, heretofore unknown revulsion in the reader! Indeed, everything everyone has ever objected to about douchey college sex columns by young men is here – right here – in this very piece! Could it be that this young man, this Chris Surette of the Fairfield Mirror (the Whatfield Mirwhat?) has, somehow, managed to embody the Platonic ideal of young men being jerks about intercourse in college papers?
Oh, my God, WHAT? The school is charging the Fairfield Mirror and/or Chris Surette with HARASSMENT based on this column? This column was apparently so terrible that it might end the ENTIRE PAPER? Yes! Yes! A thousand times Yes! Yes, I will blog about you, Chris Surette of the Fairfield Mirror. I will render unto the readers of this blog your text in full! BEHOLD, all of you, its glory!
ARCHETYPAL FEATURE OF DOUCHEY YOUNG MAN INTERCOURSE WRITING #1: “OH, MAN, WHAT ANECDOTES I HAVE! IT IS LIKE I SHOULD BE WRITING A COLUMN OR SOMETHING!”
So after flirting with a young swan at a party, you invite her back to your place and she accepts. The road to pleasure town begins and as Johnny Drama would say, VICTORY! Congrats boys, not only did you get laid, but you have a great story for the rest of your life.
The story goes, “this one time, I got drunk and had sex! At a PARTY! Woo, ha ha, none of you have ever done that, right? It was just like Entourage! HIGHFIVES!” And then your friends will look sad for you, and walk away.
ARCHETYPAL FEATURE #2: GETTING LAID IS BAD FOR LADIES.
Not only is it a story for you and your boys, but others will soon realize what happened when they see your victim walking back to the dorms in her dress from last night, with a disgraceful look on her face as if she was robbed of her dignity.
For, you see, your “victim” (it’s part of the plan to make this sound as much like a date rape as possible, right? Because if so, you totally nailed it! HIGHFIVES, again) is in fact a delicate maiden imported by means of time travel from the 19th Century, when to behave in a manner unchaste and wanton, under the influence of the Demon Liquor, was the wreck of a lady of good renown. You probably should have included this in your story! Because, were she from this current time frame, your “victim” would have just put on her clothes, maybe called a friend to see if she was up for brunch or something, and gone out to get some eggs and maybe a Bloody Mary. You know, like a normal fucking person.
ARCHETYPAL FEATURE #3: THE PITCH.
But girls, even though many may consider you a slut after witnessing your glorious Walk of Shame, just realize that you have given this lucky guy a story he can share with others at the Grape for the rest of the year. We ought to thank you for that. And hopefully you got something out of this to … actually, we don’t really care.
Ladies, I really enjoy having sex. You should have sex with me! Because I enjoy it! But it’s very important to realize that having sex with me will have TERRIBLE CONSEQUENCES. Like, people will call you names afterward. I certainly will! As will “many,” for I assume “many” to have the same severe Primal-Scene-related trauma and corresponding anger at Mommy for choosing Daddy over me (WHYYYYY) that I really, really, regrettably possess. Also, I seriously will never get over the fact that some lady touched me with her vagina parts, and I will keep talking and talking and talking about it, probably using your name, instead of just being like, “yes, I am a sexually active adult,” like people for whom sex is a more or less regular occurrence.
Also, have I mentioned that I am not good in bed? I am not good in bed. You will not have an orgasm. I will not try to give you an orgasm. There is no reason for you to have sex with me ladies. I need to stress this. NONE. And ladies? My face is that of a serial killer. It looks like this:
Like I said. No reason. But let’s do it anyway! HIGHFIVES!
AF #4: CHICKS AREN’T HOT ENOUGH FOR ME.
But in order to achieve success, we need to understand a few tips of advice to become a champ. First and foremost, right when you wake up, get out of there. There is nothing worse than the awkward wake up next to a girl, who is not as hot as you thought she was when you were 12 deep the night before.
An interjection, here:
I’m sorry. I think we need to keep stressing this point.
AF#5: CHICKS WANT ME, IN SPITE OF HOW NOT HOT THEY ARE
Not only that, it is kind of embarrassing when you smile at her and call her Julie, when her name is actually Ashley. Plus you don’t want to find out she’s a stage five clinger because that pounding you gave her last night will turn into a pounding headache for you for the next couple of weeks.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But we all wanted you to be our boyfriend SO BADLY! “We” being, of course, the entire female gender! We could listen to your delightful anecdotes, laugh at your various witticisms, dissect the matters of the day with the help of your keen insight and erudition, entrust you with our hopes and dreams, gaze into your… oh. Yeah. Never mind!
AF #6: THE PART WHERE THE WRITER ABRUPTLY REALIZES HE NEEDS TO HAVE A MORAL, OR: “LET’S BE REAL.”
(BONUS POINTS FOR ACTUAL USE OF THE PHRASE “LET’S BE REAL.”)
Second, even though you might feel like the man for doing it, make sure you don’t raw dog it.
Let’s be real,
SCORE!
we are too young to have a little mini-me running around. I would rather enjoy my college years drinking my face off and having to clean my own vomit, than cleaning the vomit of 16 month infant. Also, if you can’t remember her name, there is a very good chance you don’t know much about the broad. Trust me, you don’t want that hood rat giving you a venereal disease. Not because half are not curable, but the next time you try to bang and that little cutie sees that rash around your genitals, she’s going to be running for the fences. Listen guys, gonorrhea is a serious disease. So don’t be a fool and wrap your tool.
But seriously, guys, let’s be real. I know we’ve had a good time, joshing around, but that’s only part of the reason I’m here today. I’m also here to rap at ya about… SAFE SEX. You can catch some pretty nasty diseases “raw doggin’ it,” as the kids like to say. I know about this! Because we had a seminar in health class! But also because I’m From the Streets. Where there are “hood rats.” And on the Streets, which is where I’m From, I know it’s important to be “cool,” like “The Fonz.” But you know what the COOLEST thing is? SAFETY.
AF #7: THE INSPIRING CONCLUSION
Now if you follow these tips, the next time you do work, you’ll have a tale to tell your buds for years. Remember to be ruthless and have no shame.
We are relying on each other for an entertaining story that is both hilarious and humiliating. Just remember one thing; her walk of shame is an induction into your hall of fame.
Ha ha, yeah! Like this one time, where you got drunk and had SEX! With someone you met at a PARTY! And you hated them so much! But you NEEDED them, TOO! And it… it just tore you to pieces, and… oh, Mommy, WHY. WHYYYY. Wasn’t I a good boy? Don’t you love me? DON’T LEAVE ME, MOMMY. WHY CAN’T I WIN THIS ONE. JUST THIS ONCE.
And after that? Only the sound of quiet sobbing.
ILLUSTRATION: The hands are a metaphor. Also, OMGWHORE!