One socially competent boy seeks girl to help him shag the elephant in the room into submission. Anyone fairly appealing and over may apply. And of course what better smorgasbord of all things fairly appealing and over then the start-of-term college bop? I’m successfully dodging any flying references to last week’s failure, as I attempt the deadly seduction technique of the deliberate cheek-kiss. However, after conquering the cheek of another fresher, our drinks knock against each other and we get a golden shower of red bull. “God I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot”. “Oh it’s fine – we’re only going out to waste time until Magdalen Bridge, can you lend me a top? And you’ll need to change too, you’re soaked!” Readers, this was unexpected.

So we run back to my room near the college bar and I rifle through the drawers, pulling out a couple of shirts. I start to change when she pulls her top off in front of me and, with a casual smile, reaches out for the shirt in my hand. We’re both stood there, topless, and she laughs before she pulls the shirt on. She kisses me on the cheek (good knowledge from her), before pulling me towards Wahoo. The cheek technique is clearly infallible. We’re there for a few minutes before her friend arrives, and we go over to talk. “What are you wearing? It’s fucking huge.” “Oh, my friend gave it me… such a lifesaver”. And with that she goes, taking his hand and throwing me a “see you later”. Error on my part. Leaving soon after, I sack all May Day ambition off and start walking home. There’s just enough time left in the night to hopelessly confess the challenge to my friend next door.
There seems to be this stigma that, if you’re a boy, and not socially useless, you should invariably have had sex by the time you hit university. The more outgoing a personality you possess, the weirder you seem to become by revealing such a secret. I don’t tell people I’m a virgin. I’m a confident person, but I’m not that confident. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, before Oxford, but while we “did stuff”, it just wasn’t time for the main event. Then getting here in Michaelmas I’d been single for a while and was on the lookout for something serious, so I didn’t ever try to push things too far too soon with those girls I got close to. I suppose that’s why this coital crusade is even happening. By the time it got to Hilary, law mods had taken off and I calmed down on the whole relationship hunt to focus on work; it was starting to feel like ‘I want never gets’. No-one likes a keeno. And so to another week of Trinity, and to being casual, and unsuccessful.

One socially competent boy seeks girl to help him shag the elephant in the room into submission. Anyone fairly appealing may apply. And of course where is a better smorgasbord of all things fairly appealing than the start-of-term college bop?

I’m successfully dodging any flying references to last week’s failure, as I attempt the deadly seduction technique of the deliberate cheek-kiss. However, after conquering the cheek of another fresher, our drinks knock against each other and we get a golden shower of red bull. “God I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot”. “Oh it’s fine – we’re only going out to waste time until Magdalen Bridge, can you lend me a top? And you’ll need to change too, you’re soaked!” Readers, this was unexpected.

So we run back to my room near the college bar and I rifle through the drawers, pulling out a couple of shirts. I start to change when she pulls her top off in front of me and, with a casual smile, reaches out for the shirt in my hand. We’re both stood there, topless, and she laughs before she pulls the shirt on. She kisses me on the cheek (clearly she shares in the knowledge of my favourite ploy), before pulling me towards Wahoo. The infallibility of the cheek technique prevails.

We’re there for a few minutes before her friend arrives, and we go over to talk. “What are you wearing? It’s fucking huge.” “Oh, my friend gave it me… such a lifesaver”. And with that she goes, taking his hand and throwing me a “see you later”. Error on my part. Leaving soon after, I sack all May Day ambition off and start walking home. There’s just enough time left in the night to hopelessly confess the challenge to my friend next door.

There seems to be this stigma that, if you’re a boy, and not socially useless, you should invariably have had sex by the time you hit university. The more outgoing a personality you possess, the weirder you seem to become by revealing such a secret. I don’t tell people I’m a virgin. I’m a confident person, but I’m not that confident. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, before Oxford, but while we “did stuff”, it just wasn’t time for the main event.

When I got here in Michaelmas I’d been single for a while and was on the lookout for something serious, so I didn’t ever try to push things too far too soon with those girls I got close to. I suppose that’s why this coital crusade is even happening. By the time it got to Hilary, law mods had taken off and I calmed down on the whole relationship hunt to focus on work; it was starting to feel like ‘I want never gets’. No-one likes a keeno. And so to another week of Trinity, and to being casual, and unsuccessful.