I’ve been writing this column for about six weeks now, and word is finally getting around. People from the dorms who used to conveniently receive text messages when they passed me at the gym are suddenly eager to “catch up” when they see me pumping iron. The water polo player I banged this summer was reminded of my irresistible charm at a house party a few weeks ago, and my roommates are eager to tell their classmates about the sex-crazed girl they share a bathroom with. Of course, I play it cool. Eventually everyone asks the same two questions: What kind of research do I conduct, and is it all true? After weeks of pleading the fifth, I’m finally ready to spill my secrets. You asked for it…
Writing 700-word, articulately crafted summaries of sexually inappropriate behavior is, in fact, a more complicated process than one might think. First and foremost, I need a topic. Luckily, I’m regularly bombarded with Facebook messages from Mitch “Stuff the Turkey” Firth, subject heading: Campus-Wide Naked Wednesdays, or from Amanda “Badonkadunk” Portis wondering if I’m familiar with the money shot. Thank goodness for my groupies — I’d be lost without them.
Once I’ve selected a theme, I call to my muse for inspiration. “Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!” He arrives. Naked. We copulate for days… in the car and on the couch and in the hammock and on a plastic folding chair. Take that, refractory period! (For those of you who don’t know the meaning of “refractory period,” I highly recommend enrolling in Sociology 152A: Human Sexuality. Educate yourselves, people, and patronize your naive siblings with multi-syllabic words like “refractory” and “multi-syllabic.”)
Unfortunately, the gods have smitten me recently, creating tempestuous storms that keep my muse tucked away in a warm bed far, far away. On days such as these, I turn to other classic artistic innovations, like “Edward Penishands,” “Beaver and Buttcheeks” and, if I’m in the mood for a thriller, “Spankenstein.” I’ve learned some kick-ass moves from “Three Ninjas Fuck Back.” Do you know how to trap a wild penis? I sure do, thanks to “Cockodile Dundee.” Porn tells us about the important things in life, the dos and don’ts of raunchy sexual behavior in the face of the end of the world! Yes, I’m talking about “Armageddon-it-on.” Like I said, important life lessons every good reporter should know.
When the on-screen nudity’s done its job, I’m ready to hit the streets. No, not for that, pervert. For research. Let’s pretend Itchy Mitchy convinced me to explore the psychological benefits of getting it on in the water. I meander to my friends’ house, wait for the pipe to circulate once or twice, then casually broach my desired topic. What’s the weirdest place you’ve hooked up? This is my favorite part. On a park bench, on toilet seats, up against kitchen counters, too close to a cactus. They’ve done it by the Arbor, in the Rec Cen, in the post office and by the lagoon. Lagoon! Water. Have you ever done it IN the water? Silly question: water parks, showers, the pool, the rain. It seems the public’s been a little damp recently. I’ve gotten to know my friends better, the kids like the cleverly crafted one-liners dedicated to them and the conservative parents get something to complain about. Everybody wins!
The remainder of my week is spent in a blissful fantasy land, where my dreams are as free as the slick, glistening beasts in “Free My Willy.” A friendly e-mail to my jaw-droppingly sexy editors, and I’m done. Nothing left to do but sit back and wait for the fan mail to arrive.
The scariest part is that I’m being perfectly honest about all this. Do you really think that I could lie to you, my beloved readership and loyal sheep? Never.
Well, that, or I’m a virgin with a filthy imagination.