Under Pressure

In this blog I will joke a lot about how undesirable I am. I mean, in the real world I am quite a catch, but in Tuftslandia I might as well be that smelly girl that everyone would run from in elementary school. Because really, what Jumbro at this school is going to want a girl that will tell him to reach for his right hand when bootycalled texted at 1AM? However, I wasn’t always this sassy. In fact, freshman year I did pretty ok for myself (and by ok, I mean I kissed like 3 people). Mostly because I was behaving like I thought I should and not how my mamma raised me.

It’s pretty hard when you are a freshman girl to resist those novel stares from older guys. You are the meat; they are the chopping block. That’s not to say that all older guys have bad intensions, you both just have different expectations. It’s hard to say no. It’s hard to know what is expected of you. It’s hard to know when you are being a prude and when you are just being reasonable. But, what isn’t hard is knowing what you expect from yourself.

One of my first older guy/freshman girl experiences was with a guy that, now when I think about hooking up with him, makes me want to vomit on his penis. Let’s just say he had one of those initial names, and not the cute kind. I met him at a party that I discovered by trolling for loud music, so it was still very early into my freshman career. He poured me a beer; we exchanged numbers, later we hooked up. We went further than I wanted but not as far as he wanted. I don’t know if he explicitly pressured me but I think when you are a freshman girl, a lot of the pressure is internal. You don’t want to seem like a freshman, or sexually inexperienced, or worst yet – you don’t want to be called a prude.

I saw him a couple times after that, never doing much more, and I always felt so icky after. I was obviously stupid enough to be hooking up with this guy but not stupid enough to realize I needed it to stop. One night I met up with him at a frat party. I felt so cool because he knew some of the brothers so he was able to get us past the line. We talked and danced, he invited me back to his place, I refused saying that I needed to get to bed, and so he offered to walk me back to my dorm. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” I insisted. It really was only a couple blocks away. But he wouldn’t let me go without him and trust me; I tried my hardest to ditch him. First I tried to dodge him at the door to my dorm and we stood out there for 30 minutes because he wouldn’t let me go in without him. Then we sat in my common room for literally an hour and a half and he was all over me. I remember seeing some of my floor mates and feeling mortified. Why wouldn’t he leave me alone? I tried to tell him I needed to go over and over but he wouldn’t listen and would try to follow me up to my room. I insisted that my roommate was asleep, he couldn’t come in, but he said he didn’t care. Finally, I was sick of it, I ran away from him into my room and shut the door. He banged on the door for 10 minutes yelling my name and begging for me to open the door. Then he sat outside my door for 30 minutes, like he thought I was kidding, (because all girls are just joking when they say no, right?) until finally, he left. I think that was the most scared I’ve ever been at Tufts.

So what do I wish I would have known freshman year?

• I wish I would have known how to say FUCK OFF! And not just to men, but to my own insecurities.
• I wish I would have known that giving a dude a little action, if you don’t feel like it, isn’t going to make the situation feel less awkward, it’s going to make you feel disgusting.  
• That having a dude text you and say “come over” is about as exciting as taking a shit. Don’t get too worked up about it and if it is after 12am, don’t go.
• That any horrible situation is going to make an incredibly hilarious story later. Who knows? You might even make it into a spring flight shirt.
• During a hook up, if you are ever uncomfortable or decide you would rather be home, just leave. Seriously. The worst that will happen is that he will stop talking to you (oh wait, that will happen anyway) and at best you will just seem very mysterious. If anyone asks about it just be like, “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
• And always remember: Douchebags are never the answer.

- DeeDee