0th week: collections, essays, my period. The ideal sexual atmosphere, non? Ah, well let me prove you wrong, dear reader, with some quite surprising facts. The return to uni has been a long-awaited one for me, especially with the prospect of a new partner awaiting me back at college. Oh, the things we were going to do! The positions we were going to try! The toys we were going to give their inaugural whirl! Never did I expect so many hurdles be- tween me and the satisfaction of my libidinous appetite. But then again, the course of kinky sex never did run smooth; although usually for the better. For alas, the hallowed dawn of Collections descended upon Oxford, completely bypassed by the lucky few (such as I) with a tutor who finds exams “pointless, darling, pointless.” So, as I burst into my boyfriend’s room, zealously clutching the suspenders that had just arrived in my pigeon-hole (discreetly packaged, I may add. No luck for the porters on that day) I find him there, the vision of studiousness at its most bleak. Seven hours of exams plus countless hours of revising really cuts off all that desire you manage to build up over an especially dry vac. Who knew Ovid could be such a turn-off?
Unsultry studying wasn’t the only cramp on my 0th week sextravaganza. Another time-bomb ticks ominously in the background: ding ding! It turned out that from Monday I would be surfing the crimson wave, or indeed shagging the Red Baron. It was now or never. Now you may think, why not just have period sex? There’s nothing wrong with two open-minded people accepting the other for their body’s natural processes? I assure you he thinks the same, and I quote: “As long as you don’t mind me skipping 3rd base”. However, as a girl who has never been with a man who was not in the least disgusted by even a bit of hair down there, this is a tough one to approach. There are so many questions.
Will this be the most un-arousing experience of my life? What will we tell the scouts? How much do I love those BHS bedsheets? But then again, after hearing stories of blood spattered walls and Carrie-like sexperiences, I decided to give it a safe thumbs down. But my man was so obvi- ously in need of rescuing from revision-induced stress, how could I possibly be so cold-hearted not to lend him a very eager hand? The thing is, I wanted to give him quite a bit more than just a hand. Luckily, collections hadn’t quite crossed the boundary into being his WHOLE life this week. That’s right, boys and girls, I managed to steal a night with my boy. Take that, Latin grammar, you’re not the only one who looks good spread across a desk! Sure there were a few hiccups after such a long time apart. The highlights include a mysteriously disappear- ing bottle of lube (yet to be found. Updates to follow) and a quick bedraggled trip to our local Welfare Officer – never mistakenly leave your condoms in your room when interviewees are about. Damn those pesky kids. But despite the ups and the downs of wetting that long ol’ dry spell, I never was one to miss out on a few explosions. When the going gets tough, the tough get foreplaying
