Sex & the Country

Shock & Liplock

By: Zack Rosen

Posted: 2/9/06

I've seen it happen at frat parties, apartment parties, casual pregames and even in the Safe Rides van. Two girls, probably friends, teammates or sorority sisters, get drunk enough to show you a little party trick they invented, a trick called "kissing each other with tongue." Now I have party tricks too, but mine usually involve playing with a lighter or knowing all the words to that fast-paced REM song. These girls, let's just call them "beer-lesbians," picked up in their formative years the idea that guys think it's sexy when girls make out, just as long as the aforementioned girls don't actually go home with each other. So every weekend they decide to show off a little bit.

"Hey everybody," they announce, "look what we can do." Mouths locked, arms thrown around waists or necks, the body language screams, "Oh yeah, you like when we make out. Look how forbidden we are. Spring break whoohooo!" The kiss usually goes on for no more than a minute or so, just enough for people to break out cameras or at least take several clear mental pictures. Their experiment with homo-sensationalism completed, the girls then return to their boyfriends or he-prospects, satisfied in the knowledge they have done something radical with their night.

However pretty the girls in question, there is something inherently offensive about these alcohol-soaked sapphos. It reduces sexuality, something many struggle with their whole lives, to little more than an attention-grabbing device, donned as easily as Uggs and shed as quickly as a Phling dress. And even I, with no knowledge of Women's and Gender Studies, bristle at the idea of "gay behavior" being treated as spectacle. Most people don't treat their sex lives as spectator sports, no matter how casual the encounters. I've kissed my fair share of guys, even at Kenyon, and I have never (okay, rarely) felt the desire to be cheered on by a crowd.

That said, if God decreed a sudden end to straight girl-on-girl action, I would be a little sad. The alternative dating scene here is nothing short of abysmal, so some part of me welcomes even the slightest hints of gayness. And if that gayness should come from two freshman girls who think that necking will earn them a front spot in the keg line, maybe I should just leave well enough alone. Maybe someday an exhibition will lead to curiosity, and then experimentation and who knows what else. Every new addition to our gay scene counts, no matter where it comes from.

Maybe these girls that kiss at parties will kick off a revolution, blurring the lines of gender and sexuality until Kenyon becomes single-handedly responsible for the new sexual revolution. Shock Your Mama will be a monthly event and the Peeps Drag Ball will be held as frequently as a class dinner. Bras will burn along side uncomfortable boxer-briefs and Crozier will go through so many free condoms that it will gain a new corporate sponsor and be re-christened "The Trojan Center."

Maybe, in a perfect world, Kenyon guys will gain some of the girls' adventurous spirit and decide that they too want to show off. We could have ADs kissing DKEs, Beta's going home with Psi-Us, hall-cest in manning. Two average-looking straight guys will slobber over each other on an old Kenyon dance floor, surrounded by Zetas who wave dollar bills and smoke cigars. Or maybe Kenyon can reclaim its title of Most Promiscuous College, previously assigned by Penthouse Magazine in 1985. Maybe Kenyon will ascend to heights of sexual freedom that haven't been seen since that time Allison Janney felt up Laura Hillenbrand while Paul Newman played piano and watched.

If the only thing standing between Kenyon and sexual utopia is a six-pack of Zima and a regretted pact in a Bushnell double, maybe I shouldn't care so much. I remember from Beer and Sex that kissing is a mostly safe behavior and that it's really hard for one girl to get another pregnant. Still, though, there is a difference between genuine experimentation and falsified grabs for attention. If two girls are making out solely for the purpose of getting a guy's attention, they might as well go home and practice making love to their body pillow. Twice as exciting and half as public, and much less offensive for all involved.