What Guys Say When No Girls Are Around

Fly-on-the-Wall in the Locker Room

Stark Raving


Photo by A.R.T.Paola on Unsplash

A couple of years ago, I was handed a rare gift — and by that I mean rare like the bright yellow and blue vase that your auntie Ethel gives you at Christmas, the one you coo over, pretend to be grateful for, and only bring out when she visits.

A uniquely unpleasant experience, that will stay with me for longer than I’d like.

I experienced a locker room conversation, a proper gross one.

Do we really know what members of the opposite gender say to each other when they are alone? I’m a little oblivious to those conversations. I know I’m not the only one because the other day I was reading a John Grisham novel, and at some point he tries to portray girl talk, which he seems to think goes basically like this:

Woman walks up to other woman, hands her a diet coke. “Let’s talk about girl’s stuff,” she says. “Oh, like what?” “Oh, I don’t know. Off the top of my head, sex. Let’s talk about sex. What’s your opinion about sex?

It is generally a little less stilted then that, John (and more graphic).

Yet twice in my life — both times in youth hostels — I have found myself undercover in foreign territory: namely, bro-dom.

The first occasion, I was 15 and on a school trip. Boys and girls were staying in separate, but adjacent dormitories where the walls were paper thin. Not realising this, the guys decided to have a wank contest, the loser being, literally, whoever came last. This involved them all masturbating in unison, and attempting to sabotage each other by yelling out things like “think of the English teacher!” “think of a blowfish giving you a BJ!”

They only stopped when the sound of giggling from the girls side became loud enough to quench their enthusiasm.

Second time, a couple of years ago when I was backpacking in India. I hooked up with a guy and was sleeping in his bed, much to the mirth of his three roommates, who were a group of three guys from England who truly incarnate the word laaad, to the point of being cliché. We’ll call them Jack, John, and Harry, because I can’t recall there actual names, I just know they were very British.



Stark Raving

Intersectional feminism and environmental issues. Let’s make the world a kinder, more sustainable place. Support my work! https://starkraving.medium.com/members