You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past.

You grab the boy’s arm (which feels nice and muscley through that button-down shirt of his) and apologize for your friends. He smiles at you. [Swoon.] You offer to buy him a drink to replace the one that spilled when you fell into him. He offers to buy you one instead.

It’s already working.

While waiting at the bar for a bartender (any bartender) to look your way, you start chatting with the boy. You get his name (which you may or may not forget .25 seconds later), his major, his hometown….the usual. Then you start chatting about more important things, like why Vodka and Soda is better than Jack and Coke any day.

As time passes, you start getting a bit closer. First, he rests his arm next to yours on the bar as you sip your drink. Then he puts it around you as someone passes by. When you walk away from the bar, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you. When you bump into his friends and start talkin’, he puts his arm around your shoulder (and you put your hand on the small of his back). Then he starts rubbing your back….

Then his tongue is down your throat and he’s nibbling on your ear in the back corner by the bathroom. And you are getting goose bumps/weak in the knees.

You silently celebrate your success as you debate what to do with the full drink in your hand. You pull away for a second, put that sucker down and start running your hands through the boy’s hair.

While making out in public is completely socially acceptable in college watering holes, knowing your friends (and the rest of the bar) are watching from the corner skeeves you out. You ask the boy if he wants to go. You both pound your drinks, you not-so-seductively wipe the inevitable drips off your face with the back of your hand, then he grabs your hand and you head back to his place… where you wake up 6 hours later under a dirty sheet listening to him snore.

—

Yeah, we’ve all been there. If we were smart, we stuck around for a morning romp. If we were lucky, we got a ride home. If not, we stuck our bra in our purse, wiped the mascara from our cheek and did the run/walk home as we attempted to avoid snickers from strangers on their way to class.

You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past.

You grab the boy’s arm (which feels nice and muscley through that button-down shirt of his) and apologize for your friends. He smiles at you. [Swoon.] You offer to buy him a drink to replace the one that spilled when you fell into him. He offers to buy you one instead.

It’s already working.

While waiting at the bar for a bartender (any bartender) to look your way, you start chatting with the boy. You get his name (which you may or may not forget .25 seconds later), his major, his hometown….the usual. Then you start chatting about more important things, like why Vodka and Soda is better than Jack and Coke any day.

As time passes, you start getting a bit closer. First, he rests his arm next to yours on the bar as you sip your drink. Then he puts it around you as someone passes by. When you walk away from the bar, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you. When you bump into his friends and start talkin’, he puts his arm around your shoulder (and you put your hand on the small of his back).  Then he starts rubbing your back….

Then his tongue is down your throat and he’s nibbling on your ear in the back corner by the bathroom. And you are getting goose bumps/weak in the knees.

You silently celebrate your success as you debate what to do with the full drink in your hand. You pull away for a second, put that sucker down and start running your hands through the boy’s hair.

While making out in public is completely socially acceptable in college watering holes, knowing your friends (and the rest of the bar) are watching from the corner skeeves you out. You ask the boy if he wants to go. You both pound your drinks, he grabs your hand and you head back to his place… where you wake up 6 hours later under a dirty sheet listening to him snore.

Yeah, we’ve all been there. And if we were smart, we stuck around for a morning romp.

Sex in public places – yes, please!

There’s a certain amount of danger and excitement in sex in a public place that makes the original thrill of bumping uglies just that much better. It’s everyone’s fantasy isn’t it? Titillating and only steps away from being a scandal. Sure it’s awkward and not really as hot as they make it seem on TV, but still worth the while.

For me, it’s never been a planned operation; it’s not like me and my menfolk were passing notes on secret meeting places and which skirt I would wear (because skirts are a must for quick sex in a public place). It was just something that happened – he was horny, I was horny, and, apparently, we were both feeling a little adventurous.

There’s no real formula to sex in public places; you just do it. If you’re smart, you do it quietly, because there are people out there and they can hear you (no, rows at the movie theatre do not have a magical sound barrier between them). And you do it quickly, because the trip on the elevator might not be long enough otherwise.

Although it can definitely be a good time, sex in public is also a lot of hassle and, sometimes, more trouble than it’s worth. Like in the bathroom at the bar where you have to be quiet, quick and avoid touching any of the nasty surfaces. Or in the stacks at the library, where you have to be (extra) quiet, quick and conveniently not in a row full of books that some student may want to check out.

Despite it’s downfalls, though, I recommend it to be tried at least once. There’s nothing like the thrill of having your back against the wall with your lover between your legs and the sound of footsteps on the stairs…

[Image courtesy of www.media.canada.com]

From my personal experiences, summer flings can be quite delightful; you get to have three months of non-committed fun, living for the moment.

I spent three months one summer at the beach, where I met a cute, surfer boy who took me to every beach bonfire there was. During the days, we hung out on the beach, basking in the sun and getting to know each other – to a limited extent, as we both acknowledged what would happen at the end of August – and at night we spent time laughing, dancing and enjoying the moment, with an occasional make out or two. Wink. Wink.

At the end of the summer, we said our goodbyes, had our goodbye kiss and exchanged numbers, emails and addresses. I was content with the situation; I knew what we had was a temporary thing and I made peace with that before we even shared our first kiss. He lived in Arizona, I lived in New York; the time zone, let alone the 1,000+ miles between us made me aware of the impossibility of our “magic love” reunion. I think he expected water works; he wanted me to cry and get all mushy at the thought of losing him, but I tried to be adult about the situation. We had fun, but fun was all we’d ever have. We kept in touch for a little while, but eventually it faded to a “how are you” IM once in a while…and now, he’s just a faint memory of a summer well spent.

The best part about a summer fling is how great a time you can have with someone, as long as you are aware of what will happen at the end of the summer. Whether it’s a fun make-out buddy or a three month romp fest, you need to be aware of the consequences: a fling is exactly that, a fling, and if you fall, you will set yourself up to get hurt.

My suggestions ladies and gents is this: if you want a summer fling, be prepared for what it means to make out with or sleep with someone for three months and not wind up with the fairy tale ending. If you can handle that, then by all means, indulge yourself, and give us CC-ers some details while you’re at it.

Have any of you ever had a summer fling? Spill the deets!