Pining to pull

Note: All articles in the Opinion section are the views of the individuals expressing them and do not represent The Stand’s official stance on anything.

At the risk of sounding Single in St Andrews, I need to make a confession. I’ve thought about it often, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way to get it off my mind is to tell the whole of St Andrews. I really, and I mean really, need to pull. For those of you who have yet to be educated on the meaning of ‘pulling’ in Scotland, it means to make out, hook up, or kiss someone. It’s all I think about lately, and it’s driving me mad.

We all have needs as humans: we can’t deny that. These needs could range from food, sleep or sex even. I’ve eaten all the chocolate I can stuff myself with and slept for more hours than is healthy. My sole need is still to pull. I don’t want to sleep with anyone or be in a relationship. All I want is to make out. Like Flight of the Conchords sing, “Just because you’ve been exploring my mouth doesn’t mean you get to take an expedition further south.”

I’m not really into making out with people drunkenly though, and that seems to be the only opportunity currently available to me in St Andrews. It’s not particularly pleasant to have someone stick their drunken tongue into your mouth, and to have it meander its way around trying to find a way home. Your mouth should never be home to a random’s tongue in the first place, and playing washing machine is a disgusting affair. We all remember our first awkward kiss: for me, drunken making out tends to be like that, times a hundred.

Sober kisses, on the other hand, mostly always signify a relationship. Most people feel like they have to like someone if they’re going to kiss them while sober. I don’t wish to date anyone, all I want is to pull. I don’t want to sleep with you; I just want to make out. Some would suggest a friend with benefits, but who’s ever heard of two people (at university) who get together with the sole purpose of making out?

St Andrews is a strange microcosm, and I stand out in a crowd of hundreds of people engaging in one-night stands and relationships. I wish there was a happy medium. Maybe all I need to do is find the right person, but that only makes me feel like Meg Ryan pining for the perfect man in her many rom-coms. I don’t want love, and I don’t want sex. I just want my lips to have a good time.

This town tends to make people feel like overgrown toads when prospects run low, but I’m seriously considering making my way to Dundee and grabbing the nearest human. After all, a girl has needs. I am aware that might lead to an imminent arrest for antisocial behaviour, so in the meantime I’ll watch lots of chick flicks and pretend I’m a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. If it gets bad, there’s always the Bop…

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