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Creaming Spires HT15 Week 1

So, dry spells. Hell on earth. The ultimate enemy. A deathly desert. The feeling when you’re so frustrated that your head is swimming with clichés to illustrate your pain. I’m sure you’ve been there before, but you don’t have a forum to yell it out at strangers, so just shut up and listen to my ramblings. If you’re at all sane you probably don’t want to yell it at strangers anyway, but that’s beside the point.

Far from being the island of debauchery that I usually carefully cultivate, my life has recently taken a ghastly turn. There are no dirty little games and sexy nights anywhere, and I wail in a corner, alone. The reason? Bloody coursework. You don’t need a crazy student to tell you stress and sex don’t work together. After a day of hard work, it could be a perfect release, but if that day of hard work is followed by another and then another and the deadline’s coming and you haven’t started planning how many all-nighters you can do without dying, then sex is usually the last thing on your mind. People tell me that’s normal.

In our little bubble of spires, most of us have experienced the crushing feeling of utter panic and accompanying loss of libido. Well, it’s a first for me, and I don’t like it. And I started liking it even less when I tried to do something about it, and failed completely. Having finally managed to arrange an evening off furious typing, I was hopeful to get a little boost from a handsome male.

Since I had a suitable one available, arrangements were not a problem. He wasn’t a problem either; knowing me and my body well, he is skilled at making me happy. Despite all that, I just couldn’t get into it. It was impossible to relax with snippets of my essay flashing before my eyes. In the end, after reassuring my poor friend that no, he hadn’t done anything wrong, I returned to my cold bed with a strong sense of failure and disappointment. If I’m not good at my subject AND at sex, what am I good at? If I can’t control my body and its pleasure, what can I control? An identity crisis entered full bloom. I don’t think my coursework benefited from its creator’s frustration…

Of course, there is the obvious masturbation, but I’m a social beast. I can’t do it alone all the time. There are only so many ways to satisfy oneself, and sometimes all I want is a sexy someone to bite my neck. They havn’t invented a toy for that yet.

Humans need sleep, food, and sex. I’ve been having only one of them in satisfactory quantity (thank the Universe for lemon and coriander houmous), and this is the terrifying result. If you see a wild-eyed girl wandering the streets and ogling you, don’t be mean. Ask me out. It’ll be fun.

Maybe.

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