The L-Word - 9/30/10

This is a shout-out to the make-out.

Last weekend I had some friends over for a rousing round of “Spin the Bottle” in the context of a “Come as your eighth grade self” party. Have you ever seen college students given license to kiss each other with total abandon in front of a room full of people? Of course you have, if you’ve been to Sketchcullough or the (now defunct) Bunker. But when the permission to make out is a game (as opposed to copious amounts of alcohol), and players are meant to kiss multiple other players, two things become clear: 1. College students really, really enjoy getting physical with each other, and 2. There are some key differences between college students and eighth graders.

When young adults go out on the weekends, whether we are single or in a committed relationship or somewhere in between, the most common measure I’ve heard of the success of the evening is whether or not we “got some.” I could say that not everyone wants some to be politically correct, but I think that’s patently false. We’re young, we’re hot, we’re talented and smart — and we’ve got the stamina to stay up all night (among other things). We are designed, and I really think we all want, to touch each other. But as much as we mutually want to get in each other’s pants, so many of us go home alone! Why is that? Why do we need alcohol or a silly game to make it permissible to walk up to each other and offer the opportunity to do some heavy petting when it’s clear we’re all in it to win it?

I think part of the answer to that question lies in one of the ways we are different from eighth graders. Let me explain:
When I was in elementary school, holding hands with my crush made my palms sweaty and my heart clatter around inside my ribcage.
When I was in middle school, holding hands was just a step on the way to kissing, which was the new thing to make me giggle and blush.
Halfway through high school, kissing was still great but pretty routine — it was my boyfriend wanting to take my shirt off that made me all nervous and warm in fun places.

In college, where all you have to do to see someone naked is work in the library during exams (yay streakers!), we need still more to get our pulses pounding. We’re still holding hands and kissing lips and touching breasts, but they feel like the early levels of a video game — there is a greater prize to be won if you keep moving up (or moving down, as the case may be). So the pressure is on when we approach each other on the dance floor or in the dining hall. We’re not just offering each other leisurely cuddling or passionate kisses, here. We want those things, but I think there’s the expectation that we want more. We are supposed to be adults, and don’t adults just want sex?

I propose that we don’t. Sex is awesome, but I think sometimes we push ourselves to that point because we feel like we’re supposed to — like that’s the ultimate goal, so if we can achieve it, we should. Lord knows we’re all overachievers. But it’s not settling to stop at second base, or even first. In fact, I think it takes so much of the pressure off and leaves more room for us to feel satisfied and enjoy ourselves. For the same reason that playing “Spin the Bottle” made me really anxious in the eighth grade (that’s back when kissing was the thing), going out to Sketchcullough hoping to pick somebody up makes me nervous because supposedly sex is on the line. Based on my friends’ reactions to playing “Spin the Bottle” in college, however, it seems that kissing, when that’s all that’s expected, is still quite titillating. Maybe calling next weekend a win could be a simple as saying, “Hey, do you want to (just) make out?”