From BDSM to Public Policy

“Stripped Stories: a night of hilarious sex-themed storytelling and games.” As I read this title, I envisioned a twisted Truth or Dare, complete with stories of strippers, whips and whipped cream — maybe even some demonstrations. Being of the “innocently curious” bent that I am, I naturally decided to go. This being Yale — the land of free rainbow parades, dramatic theater majors and “secret” BDSM-themed societies, of course it was what I expected.

Conducted by comedians Giulia Rozzi and Margot Leitman, the session was named after their wildly popular show (voted the “best thing to do in Manhattan with your clothes on” by the NY Press). “Stripped Stories” started with Rozzi and Leitman’s disclaimer that the Saybrook Underbrook, for the one-hour duration of the event, would be a “safe zone” — what was said in the Underbrook would stay in the Underbrook. (Whoops, I guess I’m breaking that rule.) The idea was that Yalies brave enough to attend the session would “unite” through the experience. Kind of like surviving Sigma Alpha Epsilon’s “hell week” and being blood brothers ever after. Fun.

Now to the actual event. The show entertained four speakers, with an interactive audience game serving as an intermission to their stories. The first speaker, Leslie, recounted the story of a boy Doug. “You know a Doug — everyone knows a Doug,” said Leslie. He’s a Mike wishing he were The Dude from “The Big Lebowski” or with some failed “Frat City” swag. “A Doug always insists he’s as funny as Adam Sandler AND as Jewish,” she continued. Leslie’s Doug thought that dead birds left in his bed were funny, and so Leslie sent him dead animals in an attempt to seduce him.

The next story was one with which every girl can identify: falling in love with a walking, talking European cliché, an older French painter called (cue thick French accent) Pierre. Margot’s Pierre had taken his job as a Pierre very seriously; he even wore a beret. He wooed her with his sexy Frenchness and then, through Margot’s college drama and with lots of heartbreak, left her for a senior girl instead. Oh Pierre.

After these two anecdotes followed the best part of any night worth remembering in college (you know you know what I’m talking about): Never Have I Ever. Until that point, I had certainly underestimated the kinkiness of which some Yalies are capable: from changing appearances and walking in on someone to awkward run-ins with exes to orgies. Needless to say, I now know a lot of unnecessary information about a room full of people whose names I however have yet to learn. That’s probably for the best. This, I think, is what Margot and Giulia had meant by the event being a uniting experience; you do develop a bond with others when you get to know when, where and why they’ve lost their underwear.

On to the next story. The third presenter, Dan, discussed his past as a gangly 16-year-old fashion disaster (complete with a mullet and crooked teeth), whose first encounter had been with a “woman of the night.” This was, of course, at the insistence of his cooler cousin. “I may not have lost my virginity, but I did lose my dignity at 16,” Dan said.

All in all, the show was hilarious — having started out being just a teensy bit uncomfortable, the hilarity escalated as the stories just kept getting more cringe-worthy and ridiculous. “Stripped Stories” made me wish I had gone to more Sex Week events. But, as I clutched my stomach and gasped for air while listening to Rozzi regale us with her college attempts to get into a girl’s pants, I realized that the real fun was not a result of my being a part of this awkward community of mishap survivors, as the show presenters had said in the beginning of the show, but a result of laughter and relief: thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t Margot. Or Dan. Or Giulia. Or Leslie. Or Doug’s dead birds.