When I try to think of possible scenarios in which I’ll interact with a married 35-year-old woman, I always reach the same conclusion. A modest sundress-clad woman enters the living room where I’m loafing on the sofa to offer me a combination of rice-crispy treats and tang. Just this spring break aboard Royal Caribbean’s Vision of the Seas, where the sun is free and the drinks are $6.99 each, I was soaking up cigar smoke and 130 dB rap music one evening in the Viking Crown Lounge when I noticed a 35-year-old woman smiling at me. She was wriggling her ‘come hither finger,’ and I smiled back, but unable to spot the tang or rice crispy treats anywhere on her person, I naturally decided to ignore her. Five seconds later she plopped down right next to me, and I choked on my Corona and burned a hole in my crotch with my dropped Cohiba Cuban cigar.
“Do you know what a gangbang is?” she said. Apparently recruiting volunteers for her sexcapades, she wanted to know about me and any other able-bodied Cal Poly students. Without thinking about it, I pointed out a girl on the dance floor, my friend who happened to be Mormon. “She’s sexy, is she into chicks?” the mother interrogated.
“I don’t think so, she’s pretty conservative,” I blushed.
“She doesn’t know what she’s missing. I can eat p– better than you can.” She licked her lips, and my penis fell off in fear, like when a gecko loses its tail.
I’m completely horrified, but before I can flee she grabs me by the arm and leads me over to meet none other than her husband. The gang-banger is married to a big intimidating mountain of muscle. “Hello,” I say to the man whose wife wants to have sex that is immoral on countless levels with me and my cruise mates, to the man who will probably end my life and stuff my body in his tiny cruise cabin closet for not refusing his wife’s bad habit.
As it turns out, I had a nice conversation about real estate in Arizona with “Randy,” A self-made millionaire and retiree. He and his wife were traveling the world, devoting their lives to the bizarre fulfillment of group sex acts. Despite being sexual deviants, they seemed like nice people. And as it turns out, he was sulking because it was near the end of the cruise and they hadn’t gotten any ass the whole time. Maybe that’s why he was contemplating the 5:3 guy-to-girl ratio. Those numbers either seem desperate, or latently homosexual, Randy.
Though I hate to disappoint, I wished them a good night, politely citing that I wasn’t “worldly” enough. I marveled at the strange variety of people there are in this world. They had retired only a few weeks ago, and at 35, they had a lot of years left to fill. I couldn’t help but wonder how soon they would tire of a life consisting of only copious sex. I also wondered why a couple like that would bother with “marriage.” And how had their parents raised them, how had they discovered they enjoyed this in the first place and how often did they face rejection or revulsion because their ‘preferences’ were so different from our societal norms?
Too many questions to answer when you’re staring down an empty Corona bottle and reflecting on another spring break past.
At the very least, I took comfort in the fact that my roommate had gotten a good old-fashioned, one-on-one, heterosexual handjob on the bow of the boat. Score one for tradition.
For questions, comments or for deals on some sweet Arizona real estate, write to firstname.lastname@example.org. Daniel Gingras is a civil engineering senior and Mustang Daily sex columnist.