4 Burning Questions I Have About Sex In Public

4 Burning Questions I Have About Sex In Public

When you break it down, there are two types of sexting: the “what I’m going to do to you” kind and the “put you in the mood” kind. Neither are better than the other, but the latter definitely leads to the former. For example, a text that reads, “Could you give me a massage the next time we hang out?” can very easily escalate to what comes after that massage.

I’m bringing this up because I’ve been talking to this girl for a few months now, and last night she casually texted me to let me know that she wants to have sex in a bar bathroom. Aside from my obvious reaction of being hyped about it, the idea got me thinking. I feel like everyone has at least one story about having sex in public.

I totally get it. You’re caught in the moment, the passion is real, you stop caring what other people are thinking and let your lust take over. No matter where you are—bathroom, forest preserve, the 6th hole—nothing can match the passion that ties it all in. And while I’m 100% down to mess around like that, it doesn’t mean I don’t have any questions in the back of my mind. So just like my curiosity on blow jobs, I figured it might be best to crowd source this shit and solve this puzzle together.

How much trouble can you get in if you get caught?

Look, I’m sure this is something I can easily look up, but frankly, I don’t want to put that much effort into this. I feel like once I start overthinking it, it’ll take the fun out of it. And plus, if you start worrying about something going wrong, it’s probably going to do just that.

But nonetheless, what are we talking here? Indecent exposure? Will I have to go door to door in my neighborhood explaining what I did? Am I going to end up on a list? Or is it just a fine or something? To me, the level of severity should definitely play at least a small role in whether or not you’re bumpin’ uglies in the restroom of a Walgreens.

Where’s the line?

It’s not difficult to get away with drunkenly making out at a bar. That’s one of my favorite pastimes, right up there with taking shots that strangers buy me and talking a big game with no intention of backing it up. You could even make the argument that you could get away with giving/getting a beej in the bathroom—depending on the circumstances and context, it may be expected.

But, like, if you’re going to have sex in a public place, where do you draw the line? Are you fully naked or partially clothed? Multiple positions or just the most convenient one? It’s probably going too far if I break out handcuffs, right? The thrill of the moment would probably have that aspect covered.

Unless you’re in a prison cell, in which case they’re incredibly convenient.

What if something happens halfway through?

Let me set the scene for you:

Your partner and you decide that you’re going to bring a bottle of wine down to the beach as a romantic end to date night. You get caught in conversation, the bottle is empty, and the next thing you know, you’re getting hot and heavy as the waves crash behind you. Mid-way through your throws of passion, you reach your hand out to get a grip on the sand, only to grab onto a live crab/frog/animal.

Do you finish up? Do you take the passion elsewhere? Do you mutually decide that maybe you should hold off for a little while because the thought of getting your naughty bits clamped down on by a pincer is absolutely terrifying? I know I’m not sticking around by any means.

Should you do it somewhere familiar? Or somewhere new?

I think the over-arching theme here is: what happens if you get caught? I think, ultimately, that’s why we do it. The thrill of someone being able to walk in at any time, and knowing that you got away with something when they don’t. So then, that begs the question of who would you rather have walk in on you? Someone you might know, or a stranger?

I know that if I get caught having sex in my regular bar, one of two things will happen: I’ll either get yelled at by Lindsey the Bartender and she’ll never look at me the same again, or the rest of the regulars will forever make fun of my weird melting ice cream cone of a body that I have going on. If I get caught having sex in a bar I’ve never been to before, there’s a good chance I’m getting kicked out at minimum, maybe having the cops called (if the bar is run by a bunch of narcs). Honestly, I don’t know which is worse. What if I really like that second bar? Can I deal with Lindsey the Bartender’s death stare for as long as I live on the north side?

Sure, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone, whatever you do in the comfort of your own home is cool with me. But once you get out of your home, you’re taking a much bigger risk. These are just a few things to think about the next time you go out and feel the urge to get it on behind the Primate House at Lincoln Park Zoo.

Image via Shutterstock

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Using sarcasm as a defense mechanism since 1993. At any given moment I'm either tired, drunk, or stressed out. Get at me at or whatever.

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