"I love sex! I really do! I can't wait to get me some!" That large piece of unwanted information was given to me by the most innocent looking girl on the entire campus. I was walking around with her on "the set" with all the other horny students the first day of freshman year. That was when I realize how much sex would be going down at this university. I felt boy's and (men) eyes follow my tiny ass as I walked by. Girls bootys pressed hard against different sized groins to the beat the DJs poured out. Cell phones lit up the set, numbered exchanged by the second. Upperclass men hung out by their cars, enticing freshman girls with the promise of "showing" them their apartments located off campus.  

The nightclubs were a second away from being promoted to an amature orgy. Shrunken shirts and low cut satin dresses from Forever 21 seemed to be required at the club. I found myself gyrating my small hips slowly and giggling my ass in the middle of the crowd while the men watched intensely. After the club, at "the let out", it was a modern day five-minute dating service but outside, circulating everyones cars and advertising everything you had to offer for sex, not a relationship. Booty-call hours (11pm-4am) were in full effect every club night.

I was swimming in sex. Stories exchanged between girlfriends (and guy friends) were a common ritual between cliques and it flooded my ears. Shopping for the next "it" dress every Friday afternoon that hugged my waist and showed my legs was a habit that was developed quickly. "Mini-skirt Fridays" flyers were passed out with the image of what is considered as a sexy woman, titties and all. Sex was fed to everyone often, and everyone chewed it like premium serloin steak.   

"I don't have one." That is one of the most  irritting phrases that I heard throughout my college career. Whether I heard it from my girls, the semi-nameless guy I just met drunk at the club, or my oh-so-fly boyfriend, it seemed that nobody had a condom (or one that fit). Since nobody seemed to have any, I eventually made it a point to keep some on me. I wasn't the only one who wondered why condoms were "forgotten" so much. It was puzzeling considering sexual atmosphere and chemistry seemed to be the one subject that every college student collectively got an A on.

At a point in my college career, I HAD to become the free-condom store. Lifestyles, Trojans (my favorite golden delicacy), or Durex, I had them handy in order to stop the bullshit, "My fault, I don't have any on me" or the "Girl, we both didn't have any... so where can I get that Plan B?!".

I can fully understand that the flesh-to-flesh contact, mixed with passion, sweat, anticipation and some Hennessy can bring any couple (or more, if thats your thing) right next door to heaven, damn near the doorbell. But that heavenly doorbell won't ring as pretty if someone "forgot" to use the most talked about protection in this country.

I hope people don't really think that people "forget" the condoms. Look, I have "forgotten" a couple times myself. I would show up to my boo's house, he'd grab my ass and then proceed to undress our fabulous bodies. And then he asked me "You got the condoms?"
"Oh!" I would pout. "I forgot them." Damn near naked with long lashes and full lips blinded him for that moment. He instantly forgave me and continued, giving me exactly what I wanted. I didnt make any efforts earlier that night to turn around and retrieve my condoms from my top drawer below my sea of different colored panties (they aren't stashed there anymore). I also knew that I was on a mission to slap bellys by the end of that night.

Most of us guys and girls know exactly what we are doing. But there needs to be a breed who are ahead of the game I transferred from the dark side fairly quickly during my college years. I had no excuse: B-grade pre-med student but can't remember the Magnum condoms? Pssh, please. Seduction is a hell of a drug, and condoms are the only essential tool to become sober.

Lady Wonder.

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