The Madrid Competition

All is fair in love and war until you’re lip-locked with two foreign strangers on a Mexican public bus. This realization was never more apparent then when my dear friend Lizzie convinced two Austrian men to make out with her in rapid succession on an infamous spring break trip.

In Duke’s society of neurotic Type A personalities and aggressive perfectionists, it is hardly surprising that a competitive perspective would spill into the arena of physical leisure. If you’re not winning, you’re losing. According to the rules of our hook-up constitution, winners make out, losers strike out. Sexual success is a binary. According to this logic, more hook-ups are better than no hook-ups, and sluttiness becomes a goal worth pursuing. From this mindset, the Madrid competition was born.

The rules were established in advance. This was purely a numbers game. Fringe benefits and external values such as physical attractiveness of the partner, emotional interest between the two parties and level of romantic skill were deemed worthless.

The hook-up contest represented an attempt by two of my pickiest and least promiscuous friends to improve their personal totals, motivated by the spirit of competition. Notably, the need for accumulating experiences with the opposite gender stemmed less from gaining prowess or pleasure and more from a desire to combat social awkwardness. There seemed to be no doubt that the full abroad experience could not be realized without the tongues of nameless Spaniards. After mixed results in Europe, the contest continued on American soil, also making a quick trip across the border to bask in the spring break revelry of Cancun. In this setting, public transportation and lag times between hook-ups became irrelevant hurdles.

We probably don’t like to frame our pursuit of the opposite gender in competitive terms that define promiscuity as victory. We are, however, often quick to use “prudishness” interchangeably with social awkwardness.

If you’re not willing to partake in a little harmless physical activity, you’re often stuck on the sidelines of the larger social tournament. I mean, excluding those with a sense of moral superiority, the solo cab ride from Shooters can be more disheartening than any walk of shame. A whole weekend can feel meaningless. For both genders, gaining a reputation for physical inactivity can be as defaming as any lewd behavior.

Still, at the risk of offending anyone who has ever called themselves a feminist, there are some worthwhile benefits for those that support licentious activity and putting “sluttiness” on a pedestal. The risks of frequent dance floor make outs and similar interactions are relatively low if all participants play by the rules. Moreover, there is an inexorable confidence boost that comes from snaring in a partner and disposing of him within a matter of minutes. Also, by rendering these experiences as meaningless as a mental tally, an individual is inherently less linked to their sexual background.

For all the constant dialogue surrounding the frivolity of the hook-up culture, there is something to be said for simply lowering the bar instead of raising the stakes.