While Jim and his friends were desecrating pies, having sex on camera and attending house parties full of people having sex as if they were trying to start a new season of 16 & Pregnant; it occurred to me that we too are that age...and sitting in our onesies snuggled up eating chocolate.
This is not to imply that this is all we do, but it became clear to me the huge difference between University life in Hollywood, and the reality - discretion.
From an outsider perspective, it seems that Nottingham University is a tame microcosm of friendship and community (cat fights aside). Although all the girls go out in shrinking outfits that create cleavage in places that no one would have even thought of and the boys strip their shirts off like clockwork as soon as they hear the Baywatch theme tune like some horny dog whistle; it seems there are no signs of actual flagrant promiscuity.
....The Brady Bunch
This is because it is all hidden. The sexual movements of Nottingham University are totally under wraps behind peoples password protected phones, and firmly double locked bedroom doors. There would be no way of knowing about a boy's sexual habits without seeing how quickly he jumps when you try to touch his phone.
It occurs to me how it is even possible for people who live in such close proximities manage to instigate their sex lives with such discretion. Of course nothing stays under wraps for long and all liaisons surface in the end, but there is still a system that creates significant privacy...the booty-call.
The Booty Call
The booty-call seems to be the most prevalent outlet for sexual indiscretions in Ancaster Hall alone. It seems that while some of us are able to order Domino's at 3am, others can just as easily pick up the phone and feed a different need. Although it should be noted that the Domino's delivery man has a tendency to get overly flirtatious, which creates something of an awkward grey area...
The process of the booty-call is relatively simple and straight forward. It seems to be one of the only areas of the young dating world that involves little to no game playing or wooing whatsoever. In 'How I Met Your Mother', Barney Stinson divulges into the lack of effort needed to instigate a booty-call. He says that the amount of effort needed for a booty-call is directly proportionate to how late at night it is, and that after a certain point all that is needed in a text is a question mark.
This idea of the booty-call would almost suggest that it is all catalysed by a desire that increases later on in the night time. It seems that in the early hours of the morning; once everyone is drunk and restless on their way back from the various night clubs, students simply allow themselves to indulge in whatever opportunity presents itself.
This is always most noticeable during a time I call 'post-Crisis'. This is when everyone in Ancaster arrives home from Crisis (a student night in Nottingham) and drunkenly piles into the common room armed with McDonalds and vomiting in obscure areas that create an interesting treasure hunt of places to avoid sitting in.
My lovely little drunk family
It is at this point that all the booty calls get under way. Either one of the boys is summoned to another hall of residence by a drunk and lonely girl being cheered on by his peers as if going to war, or students simply disappear upstairs.
I actually found myself witnessing one of these incidents on a 'post-Crisis' night. I walked past someone's room and heard what could only be described as a girl trying to train a hopeless puppy...while enjoying it a little too much. Needless to say, within 5 minutes there was a group of us listening from the other side of the door neglecting confrontation on how it reflected on our own love lives. This happens to be one of the only ways that a booty-call can be discovered, that and the walk of shame.
The Walk Of Shame
The walk of shame happens to be one of my favourite perks to University life. With a bedroom facing the main entrance to Ancaster hall, I get to spend my mornings watching the parade of the 007 whores.
These girls manage to develop secret agent skills in discrepancy in their hungover and shameful states, suddenly clutching to walls and ducking behind bushes in their heels from the night before...like slutty ninjas. I actually saw one girl take a running start and bolt out of Ancaster, as if sprinting through the common room arms flailing was going to eliminate the chance of making a scene.
Either way is it the most effective way of spotting the remnants of one night stands, and pollutes campus with a string of girls wandering the streets confused and embarrassed like hookers on their first day of work.
Bankers
Although booty-calls and the walk of shame are two very well known principles, one lesser familiarised idea is that of the 'banker'. I actually didn't know what a banker was until I came to University. My friend Max took my innocence away and explained that a banker is a person that you call up for sex when you have run out of other options and opportunities for the night. Almost like a coital safety net. Little did Max know that this wasn't an original idea.
In 18th Century France, Madame de Pompadour was one of the first ever bankers. King Louis XV kept her stored in her own little wing of his palace with a secret stairway to his bedroom. Whenever he was bored at night, he would summon Madame de Pompawhore to his bedroom, and she would go through her secret tunnel to fulfil all his royal needs.
...saucy minx.
Of course girls have a lot more independence in the exchange nowadays, but I can't help but wondering how it would make someone feel. For me personally, whether I was stored in the turret of a palace like a sexual Rapunzel or someone's number one post-Crisis fall back, I can't imagine myself being comfortable with feeling so un-special.
Although for me, this would feel degrading it could actually be seen as a way of empowering modern women. It is slowly becoming acceptable that women can have the same sexual appetites as men, and thus reaching an agreement such as this can be seen as a merit to show that women are openly taking control of their own sex lives. After all, it isn't totally implausible that it is the men who control this system.
Whether we're dealing with booty-calls, walks of shame or long term bankers it seems that the world of sex at University is evolving into a place of high promiscuity and low romance. If we continue in this pattern, for all we know there could sexual tunnels appearing all over campus connecting between the Halls of Residence, or maybe even a special hopper bus for booty-calls that runs between 12am and 5am. After all when we can get sex delivered to our door faster than a pepperoni pizza, there's no telling where the boundaries are.
I hope you've enjoyed this read, and as ever look forward to your opinions and suggestions!
Olivia Jane
xx
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