Although the silly season is well under way in Britain, we must spare a thought for our American friends, who this summer have been bombarded with a succession of fatuous trend pieces regarding college "hookup culture". Most of them (take, for example, the New York Times article headlined Sex on Campus – She Can Play That Game, Too) have been underpinned by the puritan and scaremongery subtext of "look at all these rampantly screwing college women. Isn't it weird?" To ramp up just how damaging no-strings-attached sex is for women, the trend-piece writer will often roll out an anonymous heartbroken source who really, secretly, just wants a boyfriend and doesn't understand what all this humping business is about. And, suddenly, something that in Britain is nothing more than using someone for sex without undergoing the charade of having dinner with them first is graced with the label of a cultural phenomenon.
I was reminded of this late on Friday evening as my long-term boyfriend held back my hair while I vomited into one of those cardboard NHS potties and my phone buzzed and buzzed with what I suspected was a booty call (destined to go unanswered). Like many women I know, I get these from time to time, and, stomach bug or not, I never answer them.
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