Stef On Sex… Staying Sane In A World Of Flingers

Have you mastered this fine technique? Are you a stage-four flinger?
 
No, not swingers. Not clingers. Flingers. Each week, I see smart young women poisoned by a certain liquid-form chemical compound that dissolves their inhibitions to mush. Or maybe heightens their senses to a pure clarity that enables them to take a number of steps to capture and enrapture their targets.

The explanation for flinger behavior? Many college females, like their male counterparts, experience high levels of hormones swarming their overtired and overstressed bodies, overwhelming them to go back to basic instinct and hunt for a mate. Even if that mate is only a very temporary bed-buddy.

I say they’re vixens. Others might call it slutty.

Near completion of my first anthropology course, I could be considered an Academian expert in people-watching. The flingers analysis exemplifies just how much theory one can put into to practice. Here is the methodological manner I observed in my night-time studies.

First, they begin assembling the appropriate uniform. Stretchy, short black skirt? Check. Straightened, shiny flowing mane? Check. Strappy, sandal high heels? Check. Note: None of these items are remotely Evanston-winter weather friendly.

Second, they board the Campus or Evanston Loop shuttle, whatever comes first, to ship them up to the locale of choice. I certainly feel a sense of community, riding up Sheridan road squished between pairs of fake eyelashes, slim legs contorted to fit four to a seat indented for only two tushes.
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Third, they stumble-run straight to the bar and order the fruitiest cocktail known to mankind with a round of Malibu shots for all nine of their closest friends. They proceed to fling themselves into arms reach of the most approachable fine gentleman by turning him from stranger to gaming partner within maximum three minutes. Pleasantries and basic info is exchanged as they wait for their turn at the next table.

Then, she wins a game. She makes the shot, flips the cup, is the king – whatever. She earns her high five. Then, a hug. Then a few drinks later, they’ve cozied up on a quite public couch or the center of the makeshift dance-floor wall, and boom: the whisper-shouting ceases (because it’s just impossible to hear) and tongue-tag begins.

Now, in true Stef on Sex form, I will skip everything that happens from the couch or wall lip-mingle and let your mind wander until you’re walking to class the next morning. Yes, you are the lucky winner with a Friday 10 a.m. discussion section.

Occasionally spotted on the crawl home with a halo of frizz and a look of slight disorientation, these societal not-quite-anomalies can be identified by their blackened eyes, stained with leftover mascara. Some have likened this notable print to that of a raccoon, but less perky.
 
Don’t spot one after she’s done her damage, as you shuffle barely noticing her heels in hand. You can be more astute than that. Besides, she didn’t always look so raccoon-y. Last night, her glowing smile shone brightly under a raw black-light. Surely that was captured in some blurry Facebook photo her future employer does not want to see.
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I’ve now reviewed their methodology from a factual sense, but let’s get into the psychological ethos that guides such patterns.
 
What makes these ladies attractive? They’re go-getters, sharp-shooters – they know how to tackle and reel it in. I polled the first people I found in the hallway for a few genuine responses to demystify this modern phenomenon.
 
Apparently, I am not the only one who has asked herself this question oh so many times.
School is hard. Boys work hard for other things. Maybe they don’t feel that girls should be one of them.
I wouldn’t call this strategy of man-capturing being easy but rather, making oneself accessible, or open. Open to the first cute and legitimate lovetoy they see. What’s wrong with being accessible and open?
 
I certainly cannot deem these tactics a positive schema for finding a serious partner, someone you’d want to call a lover and friend, but I can give a seal of approval to this technique if you can pull it off with the righteous confidence so many do. Sometimes, it seems like everyone.
 
Especially around 2 or 3 a.m. when everyone else is filing out and instead of becoming one, you are thinking about how to turn what you see into a column. I’m happy being the nerd who thinks about these bright ideas rather than pulling off the cozying up to a stranger for joy. Hopefully, reading this made you happy too.