by Anneliese Hucal
If you watch as much porn as I do, you know that everyone has a deep, dark fantasy about having sex with his or her boss/teacher/landlord/coach/manager or someone who has power over them. Many of these trysts take place in a classroom or other off-limits place. I’m writing this article because I have finally fulfilled my sex-on-campus fantasy.
Two weeks ago, I was in a bar, just like any Saturday night. This was a bar that no one would know me at, a hole in the wall, and I had intended for this meeting to be that way. Call me old fashioned, but I follow certain rules regarding who is and is not OK to sleep with, and this person is certainly on top of the latter list.
As we sat there in the steamy red room surrounded by the throbbing sound of excessive bass and waterproof speakers, his hand casually gliding onto my leg during conversation served as a sign that I was more than likely going to get laid. After a month-long dry spell because of an overload of work commitments, I gave myself a congratulatory mental high five. He seemed totally oblivious to the internal celebrations that my mind and my lady bits were having, but that perception could have just been from the alcohol. The night became a blur of shots-gin-and-tonic-sangria-LongIslandIcedTea-Scorpion-that-drink-with-the-blue-stuff, and as it went on, I felt the need to tell myself to behave on multiple occasions.
I’m not sure who started it, but before I knew it, my innocent meeting to discuss an opportunity I was given with a big time news syndicate had turned into an episode of “Bad Girls Club.” In between short spurts of drunkenly fondling each other, I gasped, “This is such a bad idea” or “We need to leave before we get caught.” At that moment, I was thankful that I am female because, as we all know, people can lie, but boners cannot. Whether I liked it or not, I wanted this guy, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
After months of proudly proclaiming my intense self-control in classroom situations, I realized I am just as bad as a sweaty teenager in the back of a Toyota Corolla, panting for air and not considering the consequences. Before I knew it, we were running like children through the quiet campus. Clothes were tossed about like confetti and suddenly I was basking in the afterglow of bad decisions and lust.
Do I regret what happened? Never. Am I proud of it? Only a little, and mostly because we left campus in the daytime, soaked in sex smell, and still didn’t get caught.
As a woman in my 20s, I pride myself on my intense drive. I get great grades and I have a great job. Sometimes within our happy little bubble of job commitment, schoolwork and social life, it gets a little boring. Although those things are wonderful, we all have a wild streak that needs to be let out every once in a while, and my adventure did just that. In all truth, we sometimes need to do bad things to feel that rush, and then that rush is what gives us the confidence and energy to keep pushing ourselves harder each day.
While some people use alcohol or drugs to get that crazy electric energy out of their systems, sex is better because it does no harm to our bodies and minds. Sex is also better than any Adderall prescription.
With that said, for the rest of the semester, I encourage you all to pursue great sex with unyielding vigor. I want you all to challenge yourselves to do something crazy with someone unexpected. The adrenaline rush from stepping out of that comfort zone is indescribable and can put you in a state of reckless self-confidence that can be harnessed for only the best possible reasons.
Now, you’re probably all wondering who helped me to bring out this wild streak. As far as his identity, I cannot reveal it, just to keep us both safe, but the experience was good, and I would most definitely give him a great evaluation if I were taking his class.
Anneliese Hucal studies public relations and pre-law. She can be reached at opinion@http://archive.archive.nevadasagebrush.com.