I am that asshole. I am the one that likes to have sex—I mean really truly great sex. But that’s not what makes me the asshole. Moaning does. I moan. A lot. Loudly. When a guy manages to hit that spot during really truly great sex, I get loud and most of the time I remain completely unaware. That is, until my housemates make me painfully aware the next morning.
My sexing loudness goes beyond my moaning though. I’ve been seeing one guy, Kevin, consistently for a few months now. And as a result of our shared wall, my housemate, Charlie, has the unique privilege of knowing what his balls sound like. You know, that clapping sound that just kind of happens when we’re going at it and certain body parts are hitting certain other body parts. She also knows what drawer I keep the condoms in from hearing it open and close, and thanks to the paper-thin walls our house apparently has, she can even identify the sound of the Kevin taking the condom off post-moanfest. But wait, because if you think that is mortifying it gets worse.
I had Kevin over the night before St. Patrick’s Day. We went out, got a little blackout and proceeded to return home and have loud sex all over my room. Though the loud part really only applies to me. Where this story becomes shameful is when, the next evening, after a full and healthy day of drinking, Charlie came home and regaled me with my own sexcapades. Word for word, Charlie recited everything I had said and reenacted the noises she had heard—including my moaning and the distinctive sound of balls. Yes, Charlie was completely blackout when she told me all of this, but I am so glad the copious amounts of liquid she had consumed gave her that courage. Let me explain.
For weeks beforehand Charlie and I had been steadfastly ignoring each other as passive aggressively as possible. The root of the problem was sex. All of you should understand Charlie’s side by now; she had to deal with me and my loud sex. Except, my arguments were valid too. Yes, obviously I needed to work on my noise level, but ultimately it was my room and every girl has a certain level of autonomy over her own space.
On top of that, I felt that her irritation with my loudness was no more valid than my irritation with her loudness. She slams doors frequently, sometimes waking me up late at night when she stumbles in drunk. She plays music loudly. She gets overly excited talking on the phone with her best friend from home. She barges into my room without knocking. The list of loud and intrusive things she does goes on and on. The difference is that I do all of those things too. Every housemate and roommate does. Part of living together is accepting the other person’s annoyingly loud habits because you absolutely pull the same shit.
So what makes sex different? My moaning was never an issue with my housemates last year. We all loved sex and a session of moaning was greeted by high fives, hair flips, and innuendo. So why couldn’t Charlie just buy some earplugs, build herself a bridge, get over it, and then fucking high five me like a normal person?
The answer is astoundingly simple. Sex is intrinsically unique for every person and carries with it a different value. I might be a borderline nympho, but Charlie has only ever slept with one person. Hearing me have sex makes her uncomfortable, and as her housemate and her friend I had to learn to respect that.
Yes, it is undeniably frustrating that Kevin and I have to consider whether Charlie is home. And it is even more frustrating that we have to worry whether she can hear us, if and when she is. But far worse than any of that is the feeling that comes with imagining Charlie covering her ears, or gritting her teeth, or wondering what in the hell is happening in my room, because when I imagine Charlie looking like Britney on X-Factor I can’t help but feel like the asshole.
So for those of you with roommates or housemates, whether you’re a Charlie or a Samantha, learn from us. To all of the Samanthas, learn to quiet yourselves (at least marginally) when others are home to avoid being the asshole. To all of the Charlies, tell your loud sex-having housemate she’s pissing you off, invest in some noise-cancelling headphones just in case, and don’t forget to congratulate the bitch on getting it in. High fives highly encouraged.
Loud moans and kisses,
Samantha Jones