When I first started writing this column, I would brag about it with my newfound friends in London. "Yeah, I write a sex column," I would say over a pint, half-grinning and reveling in their laughter. "That's awesome, dude!" exclaimed the New York hipster. "You should get a shirt made that says that!" At the time, I seriously considered advertising the fact that I was a fledgling sexual anthropologist.
But after several columns, a few text messages from defunct hook-ups, expressing their surprise to see our escapades in print and one very angry Web forum posting, I have learned that it might be better to keep this fact a secret. So imagine my surprise when my Saturday night encounter with Mardi Gras man led to late-night texts demanding to know what was said about him in my "paper article." "Just told the truth," I assured him. I'm not sure if that was enough to calm his nerves, but I didn't care. I was ready to defend my First Amendment rights to the bitter end.
When we hook up with someone, whether they are really good, really bad, attached to someone else or resemble Frankenstein, it's hard to resist the urge to tell someone about it. Of course, I always tell my best friends about my sexcapades, no matter how embarrassing, and you know I have shared pretty much everything from the last several months. But there are some events that I have definitely tried to keep quiet about to the general public.
This explains my reluctance to date and hook up within the AU community. It seems as if a press release goes out at the very moment of orgasm. I only tell my inner circle, and then strangers approach me on the quad asking if it's true that I hooked up with "so and so." I would never deny any of my indiscretions, but some things don't need to be shouted from the rooftops. I am well aware of my reputation, but I don't want to encourage exaggeration.
Nevertheless, I was pleased when one of my friends related the following story to me about a couple of her friends. Freshman girl: "I want to hook up with a professor. I think it would be hot." Freshman boy: "No one actually does that. Has Blair Bryant done it? If Blair Bryant hasn't done it, then no one has."
Well, I haven't, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone else has accomplished the feat. But my record is not squeaky clean when it comes to keeping things strictly professional with my supervisors. A few incidents were definitely filed as "Top Secret" with my friends. I was a wild and crazy kid freshman year; let's leave it at that.
There are experiences you want to share and others that you would rather choose to believe never happened. When I recall the time I woke up with the virgin senior who prematurely ejaculated the night before; or the guy who was too drunk to get off, prompting me to say, "Well, I'm not too drunk" (I proceeded to place my hands behind my head ... I can't help but laugh and shudder). Our sexual past is like a long-fought war, littered with successes and defeats, with periods of inactivity in between.
I guess the only lesson to take away from this random assortment of my hypocritical musings on how much we should share about our sex lives is that if you share a bed or your stories with me, don't be surprised to see them in print. I may not use your name, but don't be so sure you weren't used to begin with.
