We’ve got a secret surprise hiding under our covers this year. The Hatchet will bring you an anonymous columnist, Delilah, to report on sex at GW.

Editor’s note: Names have been changed to protect the naughty.

There’s nothing greater than hearing those three perfect words from the perfect guy. There’s also nothing worse than hearing a drunken “I love you” from a random booty call. It’s funny how that same phrase can take on different meanings from different people.

I met my latest flame Evergreen in a class last semester. He would lend me an academic hand from time to time, but one recent drunken night I wanted to test his skills in a subject other than a general course requirement.

When I gave Evergreen a call, I found out that he had also been up to some late night mischief, and we agreed to meet outside of his apartment. When he came downstairs, I greeted him with an old movie embrace – the kind that involves dipping and back arching. Only mine was sloppy and drunk.

We eventually made it up to his room, and I was finally able to climb on top of my sturdy Evergreen and get his wood working. As things got heated, he suggested we switch positions, but when I readjusted my backside into a naughty spoon I wanted to make sure he was still feeling it. Evergreen’s response was every girl’s dream, but not at all what I was looking for that night.

“Delilah . I think, I think I love you,” Evergreen said.

Needless to say I was speechless and hoped that if I didn’t say anything he would just keep going or figure I didn’t hear him, but he was sloppy and insistent. “Delilah, I think I love you. Is that okay?”

This time though, I just pretended not to hear him and continued on.

As I walked back to my place after our morning romp, I was confused at how someone could just say that word so casually. When dealing with a late night booty call, such as myself, sexy pillow talk is by all means appropriate, if not desired. But the L word? I don’t think so.

I certainly didn’t want Evergreen to diminish those three special words as just a cat call to make during sex because, well, those words mean so much to me. Sure I tell my friends I love them all the time and will even jokingly yell to an acquaintance “I f—ing love” you, “but when it comes to erotic, deep, caring, connecting love, that’s something I save for somebody. Somebody really special.

In fact, I value those three little words so much that the only man I have dared to utter them to was my old hero Hercules. As for Evergreen, about two weeks or so later, I learned that he did not love me. He also did not love Mint Green, his girlfriend.

Looks like Evergreen had been throwing that phrase around a little too much.