Now it is illegal, here are 27 things we miss about having sex in Lancaster

June 1st 2020 was supposed to be a great day. The day where Boris allowed for groups of up to six people from different households to meet outside, children would return to school and Primark would announce its re-opening.

The week leading up to this change in Government guidelines came with a lot of questioning from lockdown’s touch-craving singles who have all resurfaced on Tinder during this period of abstinence. Question for the Prime Minister, when can single people start having sex again? We deserve to know.

Clearly, Boris heard our cries and announced this morning that sex with someone from another household is now illegal. Couples who are found to have broken these rules can be fined up to £100.

Believe us when we say we want to come out of lockdown and for Covid to be banished from the world, but Boris, I haven’t had sex since January. This is exactly how it feels when Coldplay wrote: “When you get what you want but not what you need” in their 2005 hit ‘Fix You’.

So, for the sake of all the lonely people out there reminiscing on how easy it used to be to get a shag in Lancs. We hear you.

Doing the looking at each other and looking away thing

The oldest trick in the book but it still works like a charm. It can be hard to flirt with a complete stranger when the music is pounding and you’re that awkward distance apart where there are too many people between you to do any accidental twerking. So you resort to a hyper-sexualised version of granny’s footsteps. “Oh were you looking at me? Hahaha, that’s sooo funny I just so happened to be staring in the direction of this blank wall and definitely not the back of your head. Tee hee.”

Getting ready in 15 minutes

It’s not just the night out specifically that we all miss about Sugar. Oh no, it’s finding the best outfit that has the highest percentage chance for pulling a guy, it’s putting makeup on with the girls with Beyonce on repeat and necking down vodka cordial even before pres start.

But it’s those nights out when you hardly have any time to get ready, perhaps you had a late lecture or a sports match that ran late, that the anticipation and buzz is heightened as you are pumped with adrenaline, blending out your contour at the speed of light, shotting straight vodka to catch up with your mates who started pres an hour ago. Those are the nights you drink the most. Those are the best nights out.

Stalking the guy you pulled on social media

Well, he left half an hour ago and you’re making a cup of tea and avoiding a lecture. Now is prime time to start searching for the mystery man himself on Facebook and Instagram with only the drunken memory of when he slurred his first name that one time and the fact he plays football. Oh, and he’s from Grizedale. Because, of course, he is. 

But, alas, it isn’t long before you find his accounts and have a lazy scroll through his profiles. Only to choke on your Earl Grey when you see the profile picture of his chin hasn’t been updated in four years, he only ever posts toilet selfies, and the last thing he shared on Facebook is a poorly-concealed EDL post. *Blocked*

Making friends on the bus into town

“Oh no there’s no seats left, can I please sit on your lap?” With a bat of the eyelashes and a sly smile flirty mode has been engaged. There is no break from this point onwards. The walk from the bus stop to the club, waiting to get into Sugar or waiting to put your jacket in the cloakroom no time can go to waste. Once I’ve set a goal to go someone home I must achieve it.

“Haha nice Avicii poster”

Lancs boys always have questionable memorabilia in their bedrooms.  I do not mean it lightly when I say I would do anything to find myself in a Grizedale Townhouse bedroom trying really hard to compliment my to-be shag’s Avicii poster or their family of LYNX deodrant.

Getting with a guy at pres 

Have you ever had that moment when you are flirting with a guy at pres, you haven’t even got to the club yet, and he is already asking you back to his? Forget shagging about in Sugar, it’s when they make the move beforehand that’s deadly. You never know whether to go with them and skip the whole night out or to reject him and have a great night with the girls. Miss making these strenuous decisions.

Thinking of new and inventive ways of covering a hickey 

There is little I miss more than slathering toothpaste on my neck to reduce redness then slapping some green colour corrector and concealer on that bad boy. To quote Plath (and maybe adlib a bit): Covering hickeys is an art like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. 

Posting an Instagram story of your outfit for the night 

This might not seem like it directly relates to shagging in sugar but don’t be fooled, there’s nothing that spices up a night out quite like a message calling you fit with a heart eyes emoji. It doesn’t even really matter who it is. Your flatmates in the room next door? The guy you got off with at pres two weeks ago? Someone you haven’t spoken to since sixth-form? I’ll take it, please give me all of the validation. The unprecedented levels of big dick energy that this provides gives you the fuel you need to secure that shag at the end of the night.

“Are you gay when you’re sober?”

So, this one will make more sense if you’ve ever necked on with someone of the same sex in Sugar. I don’t know about men but I’m very aware that drunk women pass through a number of stages on the sexuality spectrum and usually land somewhere between ‘curious bisexual’ and ‘rampant sex pest’. Typical signs of this include: suggestive flirtation with any and every female bartender, buying women drinks (which is a rare phenomenon because women will never buy drinks for anyone else), and accosting any and every woman with short hair (yes, that’s usually me and, yes, it is kind of a secret code in the LGBTQ+ community). 

It is also true the number of times I’ve paused mid-neck to down a drink I didn’t pay for and ask the oh-so familiar question, “Are you still into girls when you’re sober?” It’s usually a no but sometimes you find your queer unicorn.

When he wants to leave 

So you are in Sugar, you’ve pulled a guy, life is great. Then he asks if you want to go. Oh how I miss interpreting what drunken guys mean when they say this. Do they mean, “do you want to get a drink?”, “shall we go into the other room in Sugar?” or is it the inevitable “want to come back to mine?” So you just follow them with eager anticipation. All in all, they always mean the latter and you end up following him back to his place. Call me naive, but I thought we were going to the bar for another drink, never mind.

“Do you wanna go to the smoking area?”

Most likely after necking in the big room of Sugar, some conversation on the plans for the rest of the night are due to follow. Despite the volume of the music in there, the only sentence ever audible is “Do you wanna go to the smoking area?”. Whilst this does entail repeating everything you just said inside, outside where the other can actually hear you, it is also code for “Are we going to yours or mine?”.

Never paying for a drink

Honestly, there is nothing more satisfying than flicking through your online bank account the next morning and thinking about all the drinks you had that aren’t on there. It’s dumb but it’s true – I probably won’t be going home with someone unless they buy me a drink. Sorry.

Helping your friends find someone

This is not a claim to be an all-knowing sex and relationships guru by all means, most of the time I’m unlucky in love myself, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let my friends go without. What follows is the most long winded game of cat and mouse which involves going up to a complete random (that my drunk mind has decided would be my friend’s ‘type’) and asking “are you single? Not for me though.” If you’re reading this in despair then I would like to add that I feel the same way, this is quite possibly the most tragic form of wingwoman-ing (is that a word?) known to man. The worst part is that it is almost always successful.

I had no idea you were stood directly behind me whilst I twerked to Ariana Grande

Sugar introducing Ariana Grande’s ‘7 rings’ to the playlist was one of the best things to happen for the girls and gays of Lancaster. It was a nice change from the Grease Medley and it allowed for provocative dance moves to meet the big room. Acting oblivious to your pull being right behind you as you throw it back is one of those things all girls do but don’t talk about.

Necking like two metres away from the group you came out with thinking they can’t see you

So you’ve come out with your flatmates, and suddenly the boy that lives two flats above you is really attractive, like insanely attractive. But we all know the Freshers’ Week rule: Do not shag your flatmates.

With a stroke of genius, you both aim to “get lost” in the middle of Sugar with the new freedom to get it on without rules. If only sober you could see you have hardly moved and you’re both ignorantly necking in front of your mates. Something to discuss tomorrow? Exciting.

Getting the 1A home in the morning dressed in last night’s clothes

There’s something about sitting on a bus at nine am with your cleavage out, legs out and Whoops Wednesday stamps up and down your arms that feels like a big fat low point. Especially when there are at least six screaming children in your immediate vicinity to remind you to pop round the campus pharmacy for the morning after pill when you get back. 

Cuddles

A lazy spooning sesh in the morning while you recover from a hangover is criminally underrated. I am so touch-starved, I just need that sweet burst of oxytocin again.

Comparing notes with your best mates

Girls share everything. Everything. I mean, everything. This includes exactly what happened between the time you saw them last and the moment the guy who came over last night left this morning. I miss, with a genuine ache in my heart, drinking gin and tonics on our ratty old sofa discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the guys we shagged last night while The Chase plays on the TV in the background. 

“I, um, I think it began with a C? Charlie, maybe? Or Chris?”

Trying to remember someone’s name the next morning as they leave can be a real brain teaser. (I want to say Carl?) Then again when your housemates ask who was over last night. (Umm, Cole..?) And when they Snapchat you the next day, it doesn’t help because their Snapchat was clearly made when they were 13 and is some mess like bigman_69xox. 

(Maybe it didn’t start with a C…)

 Going to collect your coat two weeks after leaving it 

When you leave with your shag, you honestly could not give less of a shit about the coat you are leaving behind in the cloakroom, even if it cost £80 from Topshop.

“Do NOT shag in the kitchen!!”

Surely, this cannot just be my flat. There is a running joke in every student house that, for the love of god, stop shagging in the kitchen/on the sofa/in any communal area just because you were too drunk/too horny/too passive aggressive to make it to your own bed. Brave and disgusting, all at once.

Trying to keep things going on the Sugarbus

If you have ended up here, it was because neither of you felt it was urgent enough to get a Taxi. Trying discreetly to keep things going on the Sugarbus is a mission, and if achieved means you should be given a huge medal.

Night Bus who?

Not only do I love to be bought drinks, I also love it when I climb into a taxi I have no intention of paying for. (Why thank you, random guy I just pulled in Sugar, it is so sweet you just offered to cover the taxi fare, wow.) There is something very unsexy about waiting for the Sugar Bus while three students throw up on the road and you can hardly get your hands on each other when you’re sat on the N1 so a taxi is the way to go. And, god bless taxi drivers everywhere – you put up with a lot.

Ghosting a clingy pull

Sometimes the random you went home with sends a couple of Snapchats then forgets you exist. This is good. I like this. 

Sometimes they add you to their private story and drunkenly message you whenever they’re lonely or (god forbid) to wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day with one too many x’s. This is not good. Please, no. 

The logistics of getting home 

Mine or yours? Taxi or Sugarbus? Where abouts do you live? On campus or off? Where is the nearest bus stop?

Believing my flirt game was strong last night then being told what really happened by my flatmates

Nothing quite ruins the sweet satisfaction of knowing how damn irresistible you were last night than hearing what you actually said. In my mind, I am the CasaNova of Lancs students. In reality, I was once so drunk I loudly asked my friend if a guy I was talking to was hot because I had lost the sense of sight. Why yes, he was standing in front of me within full earshot. 

Being faced with your flatmates when you eventually come home

They will all be there, hungover, waiting for your return. They want deets and they want ALL the deets. Be prepared and make mental notes throughout.

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