All I’ve done since the start of this term is work and get fucked. And unfortunately, I am not referring to the venereal meaning of ‘fucked’. I mean I’ve been reading like a biatch, then drinking A LOT and making strangers listen to me talk crap. Sometimes even forcing strangers to watch me crap. Well, I only made her watch me wee, I add quickly, before your filthy, finalist, sex starved brains conjure up a Salvatore Dali-esque image of scatological horror. And this communal wee was, in fairness, intended in some kind of inebriatedly logical world, to be an intimate, sisterly, ‘friend making activity’. Oh, and the fact I only realised half way through that I was pretty much naked, because going for a piss in a onesie doesn’t leave much to the imagination. ANYWAY, my point is, that my ordinarily daily dose of hide the salami/slap and tickle/insert insertion euphemism here has depleted. I was probably, in retrospect, subconsciously flashing my tits and vag to this innocent girl as a kind of primal come on. This makes her swift exit all the more embarrassing.
Is this what it’s like being a finalist? Is this why they all looked so stressed last year? Is all that’s left to me until Trinity term the ambivalent thrill of the danger wank, as I lustily wait for my scout’s visiting hour? Or another chance encounter with a vulnerable stranger in a house party toilet? Sigh. Surely not. The other day, me and the boyf were discussing the dubious honour of being Deaned for excessive porn consumption in college rooms. ‘You’ve maxed out your download limit! AND THEN,’ voice filled with horror, ‘YOU SHAMELESSLY MOVED ON TO MEGAVIDEO.’ There would be some kind of exhibitionist bravado to it, we reasoned; to look into the Dean’s face, knowing that he knows that you like, say, albino dwarf porn.
But these are the thrills sought by the celibate, those who can’t just get fucked, like that terrifying man with breasts who keeps turning up at the Cellar’s virtually empty indie nights (has anyone else seen him?) or the girls you see buying two Hassans on the way home. Grim. I’m quite happy just getting a good seeing to now and then, no scatology, no porn, no non-consensual genital presentation, nothing but good old fashioned coitus. It’s going to have to happen soon, before my dubiously hilarious summons to the Dean’s office for any of the above.