D.C. Diary: Cruisin’ for sexxx

Cruising for Sex
Umm… two days ago?
0200 hours

My weekend starts on Thursday night, much like the rest of GW. I paint on my black pants, fasten my halter, slip on my slingbacks and chug a few Smirnoff Ices before heading out to the clubs. A good night for me consists of five free drinks, three phone numbers and one dirty dance. Really, I don’t ask for much, but don’t call me easy.

However, last Thursday night was sub-par. I should have known the moment I was served a Kamikaze instead of a Cosmopolitan. I was flustered and unsatisfied. After a boring Thursday night, I needed an exciting Friday, yet I was strapped for cash. And I was feeling a bit voyeuristic, too. That only left one option – cruising for sex around campus.

Admit it, sometimes having sex in your bed or on the kitchen floor just isn’t enough. Or maybe you just want someone to go down on you in a bathroom. Either way, I wanted to find where the best spots are around campus.

I started at Corcoran Hall as recommended by the Web site Cruisingforsex.com. I stepped into the third floor men’s room, and I felt like I was at Nation on a Saturday night. “It’s Raining Men” was playing through the stereo, and buff, shirtless men gyrated with such ferocity. After recovering from the blinding glare of the disco ball reflecting off the mirrors, I was surprised the find several Useless Patrolling Dipshit officers engaging in the action. It turns out that those oh-so stylish pants UPD officers wear are held together by strips of velcro, allowing very quick access. I overheard a call from a neglected walkie-talkie about “lewd acts” going on in Thurston Hall and the Marvin Center.

I’ve had my share of hook-ups in Thurston Hall. The study lounge was always good, but the stairwell landing by the roof always produced bad results – my poor boyfriend could never keep it up. Figuring it was just two horny freshmen in Thurston, I decided to check out the action in Marvin Center.

I arrived before UPD (they must have taken 4-RIDE) to the fourth floor Sucking Association office. The new members of the “Only for Us” slate were being sworn into office. Their inauguration ceremony consisted of a rather verbal group orgy lead by Heretic Pareo. The SA orgy sounded more like whiny students delivering false promises, so I headed over to Gelman Library to find some peace and quiet.

GW should really just remove the bookshelves from the sixth floor of the library. No one really studies there, and it’s the perfect place to take a quick nap between classes. I settled into my comfy chair about to doze off when I was startled by a loud “yee-haw!” I rounded the corner to find University President Sellin’ Just Trombones dressed as a cowboy riding atop an anatomically correct mechanical hippo. The look of pure glee on the president’s face must be the same look he gets when he gets the final percent of the tuition increase.

Seeing SJT wearing leather chaps bucking wildly atop a novelty Potomac River horse made me realize that everyone on campus just wants to get some ass. I know that is a common sentiment of college life, but never has sex been so blatantly obvious and public.

Even school mascots are getting some action. According to the Web site Friskyfurryfriends.com, the Smith Center locker rooms transform into a “mascots only” social club once basketball season is over. Last week’s guest list included Hoya, Testudo, Eagle, Gunston and, of course, Big George. The club’s gossip columnist even hinted at a late-night center court rendezvous between Big George and the Hoya. I guess that shows both GW girls and mascots are easy.

Whenever the mood strikes, you can cruise for sex anywhere at GW. Everyone is doing it, so why miss out on the fun?

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