Sunday, March 23, 2008

Locker Room Talk

We all know the image. The one where the jocks stand around, towel-clad, and talk about how much Kelly puts out or what a tease Melissa is. Usually there are some lies thrown in (at least in the after-school-special version where our heroine gets a -- gasp -- reputation) saying that last night's date served more unfailingly than a blow up doll. Insert neanderthal grunts and "Man, she wanted it!" here.

Now, I haven't spent too much time in guys' locker rooms and maybe the image is dead-on accurate. But as far as I can tell there's a hell of a lot more shared in the ladies' room than ever crosses a guy's lips. I've told women whom I've known exactly long enough to borrow their Mac lipstick in the bar bathroom more than many men will tell their best friends.

I first learned this in college when my current S.O. got mad at me because the entire women's rugby team (a formidable entity to be sure) knew he and I had sex in a particularly choice, and public, spot on campus. I can't tell you where. He made me promise not to tell anyone again. His anger on this score was so surprising -- I had mistakenly assumed he had also told the guys on his baseball team -- that I figured he was joking. Only when he stopped speaking to me all night did I realize he meant it -- and that men's and women's opinions of what constituted fair locker room conversation was an addition to the list of incomprehensible differences between the sexes.

It's weird. I don't know how this misconception that boys kiss and tell got started. Oh, sure, if they really don't care about the girl at all, a guy can be pretty brutal. But, if they respect you even the slightest, men keep mum. I once (in my misbegotten youth -- I would of course, never, ever do anything like this now) slept with two roommates within a week of each other. It was three years before they discussed it and figured it out. Three years. Amazing.

Women on the other hand do more than tell about the kissing. We give play by play accounts of exactly how he used his tongue, hands, and you-know-what to rock our world. Assuming he did rock our world. ‘Cause, men, what you've always feared is true. If you didn't show her a good time, then all her girlfriends know.

Men seem genuinely surprised at this. (One of my male friends keeps saying that "Sex in the City" is dangerous -- women are starting to compare notes. Starting??? The only thing new and different here was placing it on network TV.) Men apparently buy the after-school-special myth too, that it's the men who are dogs and women who keep sex secrets. And they're greatly unsettled when they learn otherwise.

But, men, there's a reason--beyond sheer gossip--that women talk. One you should be happy about: it's also a learning experience. Do you think we're just born with the knowledge of how good it feels for you when we rub that little spot just below. . .(oh, you know where)? No. A girlfriend told us. So don't complain when we kiss and tell.

And, hey, you might think about comparing notes yourselves from time to time . . .

(Oh, I can't hold it in anymore. The place I had sex in college was in the aisle of the school chapel. But, please, that story is so good you just have to share it. Can anyone really blame me?)

No comments:

Post a Comment