breaking a dry spell
It’s astounding how, despite my qualms about the app, the mediocre experiences I’ve had, the friendships breached as result, and the number of times I’ve told myself that I’d stay away, I find myself downloading and using Tinder again and again.
To give my pitiful self some credit, each time I delete the app, I hold off longer before succumbing to the temptation. And each time I download the app, I am less engaged, get fewer matches, and become far less likely meet someone, if at all.
Alas, spring break rolled around, and because I was too lazy to make plans, I was bound to Brown. For better or for worse, I had a week to kill.
I maintained my jaded attitude and was even upfront about it, writing on my bio, “It’s both amusing and sad how many times I delete and download this app…” Somehow, someone took the bait, and despite my relative indifference, I can’t deny that I felt a bit of thrill. Isn’t that what they all say, anyways?
Full disclosure: This is not a story of a successful sexual escapade but rather a series of bizarreness that occurred in the hopes for it.
The man—we’ll call him M—had quite the proposition: He was temporarily watching his sibling’s place in Barrington and helping with a minor renovation project, part of which entailed installing a Jacuzzi below the slanted skylight of a huge bathroom on the top floor of the house.
While the idea certainly sounded compelling, the execution went somewhat awry. Here are couple “highlights” of the night, if we can even call them that:
Because the renovation was still in progress, there were couple kinks with the house. For instance, the Jacuzzi did not have hot water. M had to boil water and thus a long waiting time ensued. There was no heating system installed in the large bathroom either, so trying to stay and bask in that Jacuzzi glam proved to be difficult.
We were engaging in a bit of foreplay around 2:30 a.m. when the question of a condom popped up—it turned out that he didn’t have one at disposal. So, a couple minutes later, we were driving down the highway in search of a 24-hour gas station, passing by the road sign that said, “Welcome to Massachusetts.” That’s right: We crossed over to Massachusetts and then came back to Rhode Island at fucking three in the morning.
Remember that this house is technically his sibling’s. During M’s stay, he was sleeping on the couch of the living room. As such, we were left to sleeping on the floor of the living room (the couch proved a tight squeeze). Waking up with your naked body shivering against the cold wooden floor of a room with limited heating at 8 a.m. on snowy Sunday? Not sexy, not pleasant, and literally butt-freezing.
Since I mentioned the naked body, you may think this setup is ideal for cuddling and keeping warm. That’s quite valid, but I want to take this moment to clarify one thing: when a person is sleeping, or trying to, that is does not mean they are giving you consent to touch their body, even if you were previously engaging in a sexual activity. Maybe this notion stems from some “sleeping beauty” fetish, but it’s problematic and just not okay. While I bring this up in a quasi-humorous writing, I’m in no way trying to diminish the gravity of this issue.
I will matter-of-factly declare that the combination of the cold and the interrupted sleep left me feeling much more drained and sleep-deprived than even after my usual post-SciLi-all-nighter condition.
Aside from the more problematic aspects of the night, I guess I can take some comfort in getting and perhaps sharing some laughs from the hilarity of the story.
But as Moliere aptly writes in one of his plays, qui rit d’autrui doit craindre qu’en revanche on rie aussi de lui—he who laughs at others should fear that in return they will laugh at him. As such, my fellow Brunonians, I’ll conclude the tale with some words of caution/advice, especially taking into account the upcoming Spring Weekend:
I’m aware that most hookups, especially those at Spring Weekend, are spontaneous, but when possible, check the weather and bring extra clothes before you go off to your nighttime adventures. You don’t want to end up basking in the somewhat warm night of weather in the high 40s and then wake up defenseless to the snowy, 30-degree weather. And because we live in unpredictable Providence, you know this can still happen even in April.
Be prepared: Have a condom ready at all times. Especially if you arranged the hookup beforehand, wouldn’t it be more practical to have a condom at hand rather than to assume that your hookup is on birth control? Alternatively, if you’re so inclined, you’re more than welcome to go and buy a package of Trojan condoms at a Shell gas station on I-195 at any time of the day or night, which you might take for granted now, but when the situation arises, remember and you’ll appreciate it.
Always, always ask for consent, because consent is sexy and necessary.