Christmas is all about tradition, and there’s no bigger Christmas tradition than escaping your family, getting drunk at the local dive bar and fucking some guy who started a rumor in junior high that you masturbated with a joystick. Surprisingly, no, that’s never happened to me; of all the ways to be a ho, there’s only one notch I don’t have on my belt, and that’s the home-for-the-holidays desperation hookup. Among the many disadvantages of having a nomadic, abusive childhood is that I have no childhood home or hometown. So not only can I never have an embarrassing Christmas hookup, I can’t even jerk off in my childhood bedroom!
The closest I’ve ever come to having a hometown is Jacksonville, Florida, where all my family is from. But the last time I went was 15 years ago for my nana’s funeral, and the only hookup options were my pervy uncle who grabbed my hand as we walked to the gravesite and two of my cousins who openly talked about how hot I was. If they weren’t my cousins and they were hotter, maybe the drunken motorcycle ride we took could have ended in a hometown hookup. But even I have my limits. After all, I’m an adult; my incest days over.
Apparently, though, I’m one of the only people who hasn’t partaken in the holiday hookup. The proof: According to a Trojan Condoms Sex Survey, more than 60 percent of people are definitely planning on hooking up when they’re home for the holidays.
There are enough sordid tales among them, however, to make me feel lucky that I never had the option. The biggest “get” when you’re horny in your hometown seems to be an old crush. You go to a local bar or party with all your old high school friends, and the hottest person from your school is finally a big enough loser to fuck you. But as the old adage goes, be careful what you wish for. “I made out with a high school friend who I had a crush on the Christmas of my freshman year of college,” 47-year-old Heather tells me. “Everyone else had either gone home or gone to bed, and we were trashed on the sofa together when things started happening and I went in to kiss him. He opened his mouth so wide that I thought he was going to swallow my face. Like, my face was wet! I whispered, ‘I’ll be right back.’ I then made my way to my friend’s bedroom and locked myself in and slept on her floor with a throw blanket. Bad kisser equals end of crush. We never talked about it, but I’ll see him next summer at our 30-year reunion.”
Another problem with hometown hookups can be the lack of a non-family-filled fuck pad. “I reconnected with my ex-girlfriend on Facebook, and we decided to meet,” says Bryan, a 44-year-old from Missouri. “Being a single mom, she didn’t have a whole bunch of time, and the kids were at home. I figured it was safe to park in front of my aunt’s house. We could always just go up to her house if I saw police approaching. We proceeded to have a very long, intense and steamy make-out session.”
It was December in Missouri, so needless to say, the windows of the girlfriend’s sky blue Toyota steamed up completely. “The next day my aunt proceeds to tell me that there was a blue Toyota parked in front of her house: ‘You couldn’t even see in the car! It was completely steamed up! I know they were having sex in front of my house! I almost called the police, but I was a kid once. They were probably just horny teenagers. So I let it go.’ This turned out to be one of the most awkward moments of my entire life. What I wouldn’t give for a picture of my face the moment she mentioned a steamed-up blue Toyota in front of her house.”
Jack, a 35-year-old from Wisconsin ended up in an even less ideal locale during the week between Christmas and New Year’s more than a decade ago. “I hooked up with a girl in my hometown after finding her on some dating site,” he recalls. “To start, she was still living at home with her parents, and when I arrived, she was watching her child and babysitting another; so there were two small kids in the house. After the kids went to bed, we could only do oral and hand stuff, because we had to stop just about every five minutes since the kids kept waking up. I said something along the lines of ‘I can’t cum like this.’ That seemed to piss her off, and she shoved by me to go check on the kids. I assumed that meant we were done so I got completely redressed. When she got back, she seemed annoyed that I wasn’t willing to keep going. But at that point, I just wanted to go home.”
Meanwhile, I was surprised to find that I wasn’t the only one with a cousin story. I was even more surprised when it became clear that mine was the most tame. “I hooked up with a dude over Christmas break without knowing his last name until after it was over,” Dianne confesses. “His last name was my family name, and he had the same first name as a first cousin. I kind of freaked for a minute but then I remembered he was adopted. Thankfully, though, he only had the same name as my cuz, and it wasn’t him. Phew!”
Dan, a fortysomething from Arizona, wasn’t so lucky — or I mean, he was, but it’s complicated. “I went back to Long Island for a big family holiday reunion. A lot of relatives I never met were also coming into town. I was hanging with my cousins the first night there, and after a while, they ditched me and I ended up getting pretty friendly with a girl. Long story short, we ended up slipping off and getting busy. Before I knew it, I’m getting my first blow job. It was a glorious 15 seconds,” he says. “Fast-forward two or three days, and I’m at this big family get-together and my grandma calls me over to say hello to my cousin… Blowjob Girl. I’m freaking the fuck out, but she’s like a rock and says ‘hi’ like it’s nothing. Later, when we got a chance to talk, she just thought it was funny as fuck and giggled her ass off.”
How dare all of you! I hate finding out that I’m not the most fucked-up. Well, at least as far as hometown hookups go. I may not have ever blown a cousin or fucked someone while children slept just feet away, but the truth is, I don’t have to leave where I live to have embarrassing or problematic sex stories. I can do it in the comfort of my own home and without having to see my family.