Editor’s note: The Hatchet’s “In the Buff” sex column is written under pseudonyms. Send questions or comments to our female sex columnist at firstname.lastname@example.org
It was the same old story: We drank one too many Natty Lights and stumbled into bed together. Except instead of worrying about the walk of shame the next morning, I had to figure out how to sneak my roommate back into his bedroom across our suite.
We all expect to learn to live with roommates in college, but sleeping with them is a different story. Here’s some background: I’m Casey, The Hatchet’s new female sex columnist. I’m here to tell you some of my awkward stories so you can feel better about yours.
Don’t worry, out of my three roommates in our gender-neutral quad, I only slept with one of them.
We thought we were so sly, listening for the door lock and double-checking our roommates’ work schedules. At first, it was great. I only had to walk 10 feet across my room to get laid and I didn’t have to worry about fighting for the twin-sized blankets. We could jump between beds – and showers – without ever having to leave the quad.
It was forbidden love, gender-neutral-housing-style. And it was hot.
After we moved past the initial weirdness of seeing each other naked, the sex was great. Because we were already comfortable with each other, talking about what we wanted to try in bed was casual conversation.
We optimized the time when our roommates were gone. We’d throw in a quick fuck when they were in class and made sure we were clothed by the time they got back. We could rarely leave a party early because our roommates always came with us. Why would the two of us want some alone time? The only time we managed to sneak out of a bar without anyone noticing, our roommate caught us making out in the hallway – thank God he didn’t remember it.
Our plan was infallible, until we realized we couldn’t keep this up for a full year. We were stuck between a rock and a flaccid place, neither of us wanting to start the obvious conversation that would have happened in any other relationship. While the sex was over, our roommate contract wasn’t.
Now, you might think after all of the awkward breakfasts and sexual tension, I would regret how things unraveled.
But, unlike most people who sleep with their roommates, I don’t regret any of it. If we had hooked up when we weren’t living together, we might not still be friends. And if we had never lived together, who knows if anything ever would have happened. Somehow being in such close quarters after everything ended forced us to stay friends.
Looking back on it, the fling seems like every GW parent’s nightmare – that the gender-neutral housing policy opens the door to hookups that hit too close to home. The University’s 2010 decision to offer gender-neutral housing was soon duplicated by colleges across the country, catching the eye even of Justice Antonin Scalia, who called the trend towards gender-neutral policies a “distorted view of what diversity in America means.”
I hope he doesn’t read this column.
Proximity just plays a big role when it comes to who you fuck.