Whether you have been to university, are planning to go, or shudder at the very thought of it, it is undeniable that the classic reputation of university students revolves around one simple concept: that we get laid. Horny and ready for action, millions of freshers with high expectations excitedly arrive at various universities every September, fresh-faced and ready to be thrust (I mean literally, thrust) into an alcohol-fuelled haven of sex, sex and more sex.
But does university really meet these naïve expectations? Do my housemates and I smugly return from every night out with a gorgeous plus one each, heading straight to the bedroom for a night of tantalizing sex that continues until the early morn and beyond?
The answer is simple: no. Whilst you may be lucky enough to pull occasionally, university is not, will not, and has never been the string of sexual encounters we all like to pretend it is. We instead trudge back from nights out, drunk and bleary-eyed, shouting nonsensical obscenities and throwing McDonald’s chips aimlessly somewhere near our mouths, and guess what? We like it this way.
Because the fact is, students are just like every other brand of human: we get tired, we get headaches, and sometimes we’re just not in the mood. The association of alcohol with sex when thinking back to one’s early university days is almost hysterically ridiculous; yes, alcohol does release your inhibitions and make you a bit more spontaneous and, for some people, just plain randy, but it also makes you sleepy and hungry, with smelly breath and a much more likely chance of getting intimate with the toilet bowl rather than an actual person. Whilst I know a couple of students who do hop from bed to bed with relentless enthusiasm and a startling absence of any disappointment whatsoever, the majority of us end nights out in dopey solitude, passing out face down in our own bed, with no pressure to be sexy or even remotely conscious.
So, whilst reflecting on this epiphany, I have come to the conclusion that the reason we all like to pretend that student life is all about sex is because reality is in fact much more dull. My housemate, for example, would much rather talk about the one time they nearly had a threesome, rather than the countless times they woke up next to a pile of sick, and to be quite frank, I’d much rather listen to it. We students, just like every normal middle-aged couple at a dinner party, only tell our best stories to our peers, and what’s better than that time you were caught by the warden dry humping on the kitchen table? I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we’d much rather listen to a fellow student natter on about their kinky exploits rather than fretting to us about the seminar prep they need to do for next week.
Therefore it seems that although all the supposed hot sex us students are having is the exception, rather than the rule, you can understand why we have this built-up reputation; it’s because we talk about it all the time, rather than actually doing it. Ask any university student, and I’m sure they’ll agree, that returning from a night out, if faced with the choice of an equally intoxicated, mildly attractive member of the opposite sex lying b*llock naked on their bed, or a hot water bottle, some ketchup-soaked chips and an innocent spoon, practically all of the student body would respond that they’d much prefer the latter. And when faced with these options, who can blame ‘em?
Victoria Karpinski is a student at Leeds University and aspiring journalist
Pictured: A warning!
