Everyone, I’d like to welcome back CNU’s Girl Next Door and her column, “Between the Sheets!” It seems that we’re sharing a page now, so I’d like us to be good neighbors. I would bake her a pie and welcome her to the neighborhood, but there’s only one little problem… No one knows who she is!
I can’t get over this fact. It could be me for all we know! Yes everyone I am secretly CNU’s Girl Next Door. I have crowned myself sex-goddess of the campus and have decided to write a column telling everyone about how awesome my sex is. I mean, how awesome sex is. And how to do sex and a bunch of other penis/vagina related stuff. Yes, AND vagina stuff.
Okay, I’m not CNU’s Girl Next Door. But she is among us, just walking around completely undetected. She’s like the Bruce Wayne of our campus. The Batman of sex. She’s the lover CNU deserves but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll read her columns, because she writes them. Because she’s not our lover. She’s a silent guardian. A watchful protector. A Sex Knight.
Having a sex-column in the paper is fine with me. As a 19-year-old male, billions of years of evolution have programmed me at this age to literally think of nothing but screwing everything that moves. My roommates and I enjoy tricking each other by shaking the furniture. If you come to our room, don’t sit on the couch. Horrible things have happened to that couch.
But seriously, I’m not joking right now. I wish girls would realize this simple fact of biology. At this age, the only thing nature requires me to do is to have sex. So when I’m at the gym and I see you in your tight little gym outfit, millions of years of evolution tell me, specifically, “Bro, you should do that chick! Check out her hips! Probably means she’s super fertile. Do it bro!” It’s not my fault, and it also doesn’t help that there are mirrors all over the gym. When I’m on the elliptical, I can see the girl on the treadmill behind me, running at that perfect Baywatch-esque pace in a sports bra that is not nearly tight enough for her. Excuse me honey, I’d like to work-out, but I can’t even change the song on my iPod because I can’t remove my eyes from your chest. Don’t be rude: consider others when you go to the gym.
I’m not a ladies’ man, so I’m sure I can’t speak of sex as confidently as CNU’s Girl Next Door can. But I can speak pretty confidently about pornography! In fact, in my COMM 221 class my professor brought up a quote from Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart when he was trying to define pornography in the 70s, saying, “I know it when I see it.” My professor put that quote on the board and said, “What was he trying to define?” Some kids yelled “Courage!” and “Leadership!” Then it got quiet and I said “Porn!” My professor asked how I knew that, and I went, “I watch a lot of… Supreme Court hearings.” My knowledge of porn is so extensive it became useful in a college course.
One of my first bonding moments with my stepbrother was over porn. We were on a boat-tour in Rhode Island because my dad and stepmom have a thing for lighthouses (not THAT kind of thing, they just like them.) I think I was 18 and my stepbrother was 13 or 14 and we hadn’t really sat down and talked for an extended period of time because our parents had just gotten married a few months before. Somehow porn came up, and we talked for the entire hour and a half boat ride, laughing and commenting on the best kinds of videos. I felt like a big brother for the first time in a while, telling him which sites were safest and how to delete browsing history. It was really a great picture: he and I discussing boners while the sun set on the New England ocean shore. It was a beautiful moment that Nicholas Sparks could only dream of.
So anyway, check out the Between the Sheets column and always remember: CNU’s Girl Next Door is not the mask that Bruce Wayne wears. Bruce Wayne is the mask that CNU’s Girl Next Door wears. And I promise the next Comedy Column will not have as many Batman jokes for those that haven’t seen Batman. Just kidding, if you haven’t seen the Dark Knight you’re three-fifths of a person to me. I’m going to keep ‘em coming. It’s not about content anymore: It’s about sending a message.