One Month Challenge: Man-Free May, Week 4

[Everyone’s got a vice, a bad habit, something they know they need to change. Unfortunately, everyone also has a million excuses why they just can’t do it. Not anymore. Every month we will be following a different CollegeCandy writer as she takes on a personal challenge. This month we’re standing behind Samantha and her quest to be man-free for 31 days.  She had a bit of a meltdown last week, so let’s see what this month has taught her.

Alright everyone. I owe you an apology. Last week’s article made no sense. Is she done? What happened? Did she mess up? Why is she crying? Just be? What does that mean?? This is really not very man-free!

True on all counts. I was under, let’s say, emotional duress while writing last week’s article. It was drama llamas all around, and there’s nothing more I hate than a drama llama. They just stand there, all high and mighty with their long necks and furry coats, staring down at you and then turning around like they’re disgusted with your actions…drama llamas, who needs em?

Anyway scratch what I said last week. Let’s talk about what happened this week!

Friday night my peer health internship was doing an event that we do twice each quarter called Snack Attack. It sounds a lot more fun than it actually is. Basically we (the interns) hand out little bags of animal crackers or pretzels to the drunken revelers in the streets around 1o PM on Friday night “to help them feel better in the morning if they choose to drink.”

Yeah, I know…

Nonetheless, you learn many things when looking at the meat market that is Friday night through sober eyes, my young grasshoppers. First of all, yes, your skirt IS TOO SHORT! And no, pulling it down every 3.5 steps DOES NOT HELP. Also, ladies, if you choose to fall at any point during your night out, please, please, do not make it in front of your college town’s uniformed finest while wearing the shortest, tightest dress and highest heels known to man. If you do, DO NOT attempt to be helped up by your drunk friend (who, in addition to her super-short dress and heels is wearing a walking boot – the kind you wear after breaking your foot!) who of course will proceed to fall ON TOP OF YOU. How you managed to not get arrested in beyond me. But I digress…

Oh yes, lessons learned. In addition to being aware of your wardrobe choices and managing not to fail epically in front of cops, here’s one lesson that might actually save you from a little heartbreak, or at least The Clap: guys will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING. If you are drunk, and you are wearing a dress that screams “SEX SEX SEX,” and don’t look like a complete mess, guys will try to have sex with you. Sometimes they are more likely to try to have sex with you if you look like a complete mess. They will cat call/ hit on/text/ call/ chase after (no, seriously)/ get in fights for/ flirt with/ do shots with/ dance with/ make out and do a lot more with any girl whom they think will let them put their little friend in. Bonus points if you a) won’t remember it or b) actually have a pulse.

That being said, I had my own fun Friday night. I wore my short-but-not-too-short skirt and top under my peer health sweatshirt so that I would be ready to hit the parties as soon as the last of the animal crackers had been forced upon given to the revelers. Like clockwork, I drank, had fun, danced, and then proceeded to get hit on. The suspect was a housemate of my friend throwing the party and was a bonafide Brody Jenner look alike. Like I was going to say no? Man-free May or not, he LOOKED LIKE BRODY JENNER. One thing let to another, and “hey, do you want to go take shots in my room?” was on the table. Now, I’ve been around this block more than a few times, ladies, and I know that when he says “hey, do you want to go take shots in my room” what he really means is “hey, lets go to my room and get you more drunk, talk a little bit and hopefully I’ll see your boobs.” The truth hurts.

And he did see my boobs. But not much else. Strangely I saw all of him… Even more strange, I just wasn’t into it. I was drunk enough to be like, “Sure, I could have sex with you right now, but it would be a lot easier if we just made out and you played with my boobs.” Which is basically what happened. And that’s all that happened. Then I stayed at the party for a while longer before heading home, without the guy’s digits. I know where to find him if I want to, but bottom line: I really didn’t care enough to.

So, then, what does this little story say about my quest to be man-free? What have I learned from Man-Free May? Anything? Nothing? What was I actually avoiding? Men? Sex? Heartache? Rejection? Feeling like a dirty dirty pirate hooker?

Even though in retrospect my Man-Free May could’ve been a little (OK, a lot) more man-free, the lessons learned are not lost. If anything, they were supplemented through interaction with men. At the beginning of this challenge I was still the girl that basically had “LOVE ME” written across her forehead. Week one, I started off feeling free and focusing on me, which was amazing. Week two I started to miss the touch of a man. Week three was drama llama. I can say, though, that by abstaining from dating/hooking up this month I didn’t form any suffocating emotional ties to any one guy. If “sex is the glue of God” as my mentor likes to say, I was glue-free for this month, and that was really reallyyyyyy nice. Now I’m not saying that being love-free or intimacy-free is the way to be, it just was for me this month.

The most valuable thing I’ve learned? Whether it is to be loved, to have nearly no interaction with the opposite sex, to date like a guy or to just have fun, make sure you know what you want. Take time to look at your history of love and sex and figure out when you were the happiest and the most unhappy. Ask yourself why, and what you can do to change that in the future. When you know what you want, you will be more confident and actually more attractive. And that’s never a bad thing.

Going completely Man-Free is a big challenge, and I commend any woman who can. But at the end of the month, I know how I feel, what I want, and maybe even what I need.

[Come back next month to follow Jill on her journey to live outside the box and face her biggest fears.]

True Story: I’m Spending My Summer In The Country
True Story: I’m Spending My Summer In The Country
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