When I came to Penn, I thought of myself as a poster child for anonymous hookups. As a naive freshman, nothing seemed better, but the trouble with having a bunch of one-night stands began at my freshman year sorority bid party. I started making out with a good-looking guy. I was confident with him, kind of bitchy; it was hot. He asked me to guess which frat he was in, but I couldn’t. “You’ll see when we go there,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion or a question—and I liked that, because it was obvious I was going home with him. He was teasing, being kind of an asshole. Exactly what I wanted. He never even asked my name.
We went back to his house, where we put on some music, drank more, danced around and made out. He finally asked my name when he was saving my number in his phone, but part of the excitement of the hook up—all hook ups, for that matter—was the anonymity, so I didn’t tell him. “Just save it as Wednesday Night,” I tried to say seductively (it was probably just embarrassing). After I spent the night, he never called. I was slightly disappointed, but I took it in stride. Read the rest of this entry »