As a kid, I always hated gym class. Not necessarily for the stereotypical reasons though; of sucking at the physical or that fear being teased, mainly I hated what came after and before gym class: the locker room. In those days, the locker room was always this place where youthful testosterone would flow like free drinks on the tab of a total stranger. The self-proclaimed cool amongst friends in the locker room will proclaim to everyone else of sexual conquests, both real and imagined.

“I totally nailed Sandra last night!”
“Oh man, really?! Yeah that chick’s got a nice rack, I would’ve banged her if you didn’t!”

A Feminist may take umbridge, and while loud and obnoxious as they were, at the age of 16-something there’s nothing much wrong or out of the ordinary with any of it. At the time, of course being the kid I was then, my face would get hot and panic mode would activate in my brain whenever anybody would try to include me in any such conversations or ask (more like tease) me about that girl in my life.

But sixteen year olds are just like that I suppose; short horny bipedal bastards who’ll step over their mother’s own corpse if it means being within a foot of a woman’s chest. But, although not too much has changed, that was then. It’s something totally different and weird to hear more or less the same thing in a University gym locker room. Sure, now the tales have a chance of being true, but something’s just different about hearing it this time. In those days of deepening voices and thickening hairs, just having a girl you like talk to you was something special, exhilerating to almost any guy. If you happened to get further than that with a girl it could only be a good thing it was assumed.

Today what I overheard started when generic guy A exclaimed “So, I finally went out with Aki.” “Yeah really? How’d it go?” asks his friend. He replies “Pretty good actually, she invited me up to her room after and sucked me off.”
“Wow, I figured she was whorey, but I had no idea!”
“Yeah totally. I don’t think I’d want to actually date such a slutty chick.”

They went on I’m sure, but I remember what I was thinking then as I picked up my towel and walked out to start my workout. What part of that made her a whore? I mean sure it may be a little different, but it’s not like he woke up the next day to find her in bed with his father or finding out she gave him the clap a week later. I think people who know what they want out of life and do what they can to get it in the most direct ways can be some of the interesting. And if what she wants right now out of her life is sex, why complain?

Truth be told, I’m often ridiculed for the way I think things like this through. I don’t know why things always need to conclude so differently in my head; it’s just what the liquids in my brain tell me is the only logical and understandable way to see this one piece of the world.

(p.s. Did I ever tell you about the time my 16 year old self tripped and fell literally face first into a girls chest? In my defense, it genuinely was an accident. Yeah, stuff like that actually happens in real life – to me at least.)