Long ago, UCSB first decided to remind freshmen of their infantile nature with the familiar barred sidings just like when you were a baby. They made the famed bunk beds long and skinny, to give the illusion that it was a normal bed, but even a twin allows two people to spoon comfortably. The top bunk may cage you in from the sides, but the bottom bunk forms a coffin-sized cave that allows no room for messing around. The bunk bed is the modern day chastity belt because no matter what position you may try to assume, the entire structure is working against you.
Rocking the boat isn’t an understatement when these poorly made wooden structures get some action because it’s more like rocking a skinny, sheet covered dock. I’m almost certain that the bunk bed was actually specially designed to punish obese people and those who are sexually active. Take, for example, the crib your parents used to cage you in: It happens to be the only type of bed that doesn’t get any action. Is it a coincidence that the crib is not so much different from the good old top bunk?
For those of you who are spoiled enough to have a single room, you may have escaped the terrible bunk, but you most likely have social problems and missed out on a singularly epic dorm experience by living without a complete stranger or two. You single roomers will never have the honor of sexiling someone — which is truly a gratifying experience. On top of achieving a hot piece of ass for the night, you also acquire a non-negotiable agreement with your roommate that they evacuate the room, or, as one of my roomies has previously announced with a cheer of vindication at my doorway, “IT’S MY TURN.” Perhaps your roommate doesn’t understand such basic social laws, but I would suggest that you make them want to leave if they don’t get the clue. If your roomie still doesn’t vamonos, appreciate the beautiful coast, a library filled with dark corners, or semi-private lounge conveniently located around your dorm for your sexcapades.
As much as we make fun of the fumbling freshmen, ramming their shiny new cruisers into unsuspecting pedestrians and asking around for “the I.V.”, freshman year is a time for everyone to make mistakes, meet people, and survive the ever-so-sexy bunk bed. This is probably one of the only times in your life when you live in the sweet proximity of 200 horny 18-year-olds, and instead of your brother or sister being in the next room over, it could easily be three attractive coeds. Even though you may spend the whole time wishing for a single room and a true bachelor pad to impress a guest with, you will later fondly remember the time you cuddled in your two-by-seven cave, when so-and-so got locked in the shower with what’s-his-name, and the time everyone peeked in on you when you scored in the study room.
So take it easy on those first years, because secretly we all miss the juvenile sexperiences.