I told myself that I was a feminist, despite subjecting myself to unfulfilling, emotionally damaging sexual experiences. *** I had a puppy-love relationship with my high school boyfriend, the kind you see in movies. I loved learning and made Phi Beta Kappa my junior year. But my internal life was characterized by paralyzing anxiety and depression. I drove myself to excessive exercising and near-anorexia. While there was a major gulf between my public self and my private one, the one thing that remained consistent were my politics. I led a popular student website and was active in the arts and athletics. Your privileged ass has nothing to complain about,” you’re right.
Entering college, I wasn’t scarred or inexperienced. He’d be poetic, invested, understand female sexual anatomy and have the perfect amount of facial scruff.
Almost immediately, I buried this dream deep within my new plastic dorm drawers.
From dance floors to bedrooms, everyone was hooking up—myself included.
The popular media most frequently characterizes hookup culture as a series of emotionless one-night stands.
At Middlebury, such casual hookups definitely occur.