Polly Ingham’s quest for a sex free day leads her to conclude that no one is safe from the filthy minds of the York student population
You may consider from the subject of this piece that I am a feminist prude and desire beyond all things to have a day free from the oppressive modern sexuality constantly shoved in our faces by male obsessives; but that is not the case. After reading about how sexual addiction is ruining the lives of men, young and old, I wondered whether the environment we live is forcing sex into everything we do. Is it actually possible to spend any time at university without being told by some barely pubescent male how big his penis is? Can I while away a happy hour without a flat mate asking to borrow my nail scissors to trim their pubic hair? Can I spend a sex free day?
I was barely ten minutes into such an attempt when my Porno V invitation flashed up on Facebook. An annual event in which drunken horny students get their kicks by gyrating on a giant penis, and dressing to get laid is the one fundamental prerequisite for attendance. Instead of attending this joyful campus event, my friends decided that a birthday outing to Leeds would be preferable. Great, I thought, the civilised choice; I live with mature discerning people. Sadly I discovered that in addition to clubbing they would be partaking in what one flatmate merely described as “boobs and birds”. That’s right, they were gracing Leeds’ best strip club.
However, I was determined not to be beaten; my sex free day would come. The next day I sprung out of bed optimistically, to have an entirely un-sexual breakfast with my aforementioned friends. Everything was going so well until I said very innocently, “Right I’m off to work”, in reply friend A said “I’m off to wank”, friend B said “I’m going to look at porn” and friend C said “Me too”, and so with right hands poised like the three Musketeers they strode off into their rooms, locking the doors behind them. Their little yellow ethernet cables flashing with the writhing naked bodies of females brought especially to them at two in the afternoon by Redtube.
Distressed and puzzled by such primal behaviour I sulked in my own room trying to find a way to avoid all sexuality, simply to prove my own stupid point. I read Vision, only to come across the one and only Campus Playboy “Back By Popular demand” (and don’t I believe it now), I read “Habeaus Corpus” the Drama Barn’s Week 8 play, in which the characters spend the majority of their time swapping clothes and swapping partners, then to soothe my sorrows I went to B-Henry’s only to find myself enjoying ‘Screaming Orgasms’ and ‘Sex on the Beach’. I finally hit the jackpot that evening – The Peter Pan – tomime! In my mind childish, good natured, frivolous, fun in which the most sexual character is the dame. How wrong I was. Not only was there an overtly sexual Badger-Corn with what can only be described as a big phallus on his head, several scenes romping behind bushes and under bed clothes, but there was actually a scene in which an unconscious character was ‘tea-bagged’. Yes ladies and gentlemen – public tea-bagging!
I am defeated; the best we can do is embrace it. No level of evasion, avoidance, aggression or apoplexy will aid you in your quest for a day of chaste thoughts. As I come to the end of the week and the end of my thoughts, snuggled in my room with a glass or red wine ready to write my feature, my friend pops his head round the door and asks to borrow some condoms-merely the cherry on my sex filled pie. I tell him not to spend them all at once, and wish him well on his way.