There's nothing glamorous about doing the nasty in a dorm. The walls are too thin, the ladders on lofted beds too dangerous, and the company too damn grimy. But all in all, we do what we must, allowing our most basic animal instincts to overtake us for a period—a long one if you’re lucky and your roommate decides to be a pal.
When my boyfriend visited from out of town, I knew we’d probably be hitting the sheets pretty quickly upon his arrival. He graduated college a couple of years ago, so naturally, I was a little apprehensive about the dorm-room situation. Would he think it juvenile?
After enjoying the merits of non-dorm sex all summer, surely the unsexiness of a dorm bed, omnipresent textbooks and syllabi would diminish the allure. I couldn’t help but conjure up various worst-case scenarios in which I fall off the bed during a fumbling attempt to switch sex positions.
We walked up the stairs in silence, stealing fleeting glances every so often. All the while, I considered my next move. Would it be sexy to just grab him and pull him into a full-fledged make out, which would then inevitably and oh-so-heatedly escalate? Yes, that’d work, I thought. Maybe he’d be so distracted that he wouldn’t even notice the lame Beatles poster on the wall or the dirty laundry strewn across the floor.
Sure, Anita… because those things always work out for you. If you know me, you know that I’m about as sexy as a carrot, which admittedly has its charm, but to be sexy on command? Hell no. And even so, I didn’t think any amount of calculated sexiness could compensate for the sight of a dorm bed—an extra long one at that, waiting and ready to rumble.
We walked in and I found myself positioned a safe five feet away from him and a good two feet from the lofted bed: the awkward middle. Of course, he appeared to be completely at ease, looking adorably sexy and giving me an irresistibly impish grin.
Any trace of sexy seductress had been forcibly removed from my body, squashed and beaten into nothing at all. In that moment, I felt exactly like what I was: a messy college student with nothing to offer but a twin-size bed, a communal bathroom and a swipe into the dining hall.
I’m not entirely sure what happened next, but I do know that in a matter of seconds, I was lifted onto the bed, my legs wrapped around his waist, feeling his hands running under my shirt, fully and wholly engaged in a tangle of hair and heavy breathing.
After a few false alarms about my potentially returning roommate, all doubts I had were quickly stripped from me, along with my clothes. And let's get one thing straight: If the fact that we were in a dorm fazed him, he certainly didn't show it. This was capital S-E-X we’re talking about here. This is a guy who actually knows his way around a woman’s body and who, as luck would have it, I am absolutely crazy about.
I ended up capitalizing on the twin bed, hooking my ankle on the bottom post for more friction and using the lack of bed space to pull his body flush with mine, in all of our sweaty glory. After we were finished, I settled into a content lull, tracing lines around his chest.
“Wow, it’ll take me a couple hours at least to figure out what’s on your wall,” he said half seriously, surveying all of the posters and pictures. Snickering, I replied matter-of-factly: “Yeah, it’s a fire hazard. Very college.”
Sure, dorm beds can be weird when switching positions and might require a less than welcome pause to disentangle some limbs, but you can make it work. There’s no better way to get to know someone than to snuggle up, post coital, in a smaller than small bed, and laugh about how unapologetic your libidos are.
The seamless tussle that is possible in a full-size bed is nice; however, working with what you have in the moment can be even sexier. Sometimes the drive to be with someone cannot be contested or quantified, and overcoming that less-than-sexy dorm atmosphere to hop into bed—any size bed—with your person is all that matters. You'd want them anywhere, any place, and by some act of God, they feel the exact same way about you—they might even overlook your carrot-level sex appeal.
It's safe to say that that much concentrated sex after doing long-distance for a while can be physically demanding. My every limb screamed in agony after the weekend was over. Keep the ibuprofen stocked, my friends.
Seriously y’all, they just don’t teach this stuff in textbooks.