Interview With a Lady’s Man.
Player: A guy who is sustaining supposedly exclusive relationships with multiple girls simultaneously “that guy is a player.” With this handy Urban Dictionary definition in mind, Joseph Harper scoured the campus for Unitec’s most notorious player, and then got to read his sexsploits diary.
I first heard of a student named Mark around this time last year. It was the morning after the annual White Party, which I had attended with several friends. Most of those friends were to be found scattered about my flat, besieged by hangovers; but we lost one of my crew, a female friend named Susan, somewhere at the party and she was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until four in the afternoon that Susan was able to be accounted for. She had gone home and spent the night with a third year architecture student named Mark. At the mention of the name; another of my friends piped up. “Mark?” she said, “You got bedded by Mark?” Apparently this young man had quite the reputation on campus, something of a legend who supposedly engaged in dealings of a sexual nature with more males and females, than any other student in the history of Unitec. I could think of no one who personified the term “playa”, better than this Mark character, so I set about tracking him down. I found him and he agreed to be interviewed on the condition that I use only his first name, and allowed me to print excerpts from a journal he has kept in his time at Unitec (a journal he affectionately calls his “little black book”). The following is based on a real interview with a real Unitec student, and feature genuine extracts from his diary. Content may offend. You'd expect a young man who claims to have had sexual intercourse with over 50 other students throughout the course of his 4 year degree, to be good looking. A kind of clean cut, muscular, young Brad Pitt type. Mark is not the man I imagined. He is weedy, with straw coloured hair and teeth which haven't grown enough and have little gaps between each other because of it. He reminds me of a snake; but for his eyes. They are a brilliant blue, Jesus's eyes set in the asp of Eden. “It's all true,” he tells me. “I got them all written down. I can tell you the name and the date and whatever details you want for every single chick I've done since I've been at Unitec.” June 3rd 2007: Her name was Jenny. She was a design student, first year. She was attractive. I am continually amazed at the way the feminine form is able to inspire such elation in me. Her hair was long and blonde and it rolled over her neck and shoulders like sand melting in the face of heavy waves. Every strand; crashing and dissolving into the next. She was beautiful. We did it doggy style. - Mark. He offers me a drink. I assume he means tea or perhaps coffee, but he throws a cold beer across the room. I feel obliged to drink it. I ask him if he has any techniques. “I dunno. Nah not really.” I don't believe him and persevere. Surely there's a secret to his success? “I guess I'm just good at talking to chicks. Not real smooth or anything. And I don't have heaps of money to buy my way into them. I'm just a good talker I guess.” The beer is making my hand cold. It triggers the thought in me that perhaps alcohol is one of his secret weapons. “No way!” He seems offended. “That's shit, man. If she's wasted, I don't count it. It's not real is it? I mean, there's no skill there is there? I hate that date rape shit, man. I don't drug chicks and I don't get them drunk either. I'm just a good talker. I told you.” November 1st 2007: I was dressed as an M&M. She thought I was funny. Her name was Kate and the first thing she asked me was whether or not there was nuts under the candy shell. We hung out all night. She was dressed up as some character from a book I haven't read. I think she was smart. Studying some kind of science. She told me I was cute. Liked that I didn't use big words. She did most of the talking anyway. She had this amazing voice. It had this presence to it. Sounded like something soft to me. Like a baby duck. She came back to mine after the party. Pretty average in bed. Nothing special. Good blow job though. - Mark. His morals come as a surprise. You expect the kind of guy who sleeps around a lot to be a sleazy, unclean, type. I ask him whether he's ever gotten into trouble. Whether he's gotten many STIs or had other accidents. “Accidents? Like getting chicks knocked up? Nah, man. I always carry rubbers. Always.” He pulls out his wallet and opens it up to show me something. In a translucent pocket, underneath pictures of himself as a boy, and a woman who based on her eyes, is his mother, are two Marquis supa-lite prophylactics. “Gotta be safe, man.” I ask whether he has any preference when it comes to his sheaths. “Ridged,” he says. “Or those flavoured ones if I'm trying for oral. In my experience, strawberry is a popular choice.” February 27th 2008: I was in the building 1 library. A girl named Chris was using the computer next to me. She went to print something out, looked like a picture of some kind of monkey, but she didn't have any money left on her card. I offered to pay. She accepted and we started talking. She told me she liked my eyes. I told her I liked hers too. I didn't really. They were obscured by her glasses. I should have said I liked her glasses; I did like those. She told me about the work she was doing – something to do with animals – but I didn't really listen. I was absorbed in her clothing. She had a wonderful sense of style. We talked for hours, until we were the only ones left in the library. She sat on me in between the rows of old journals. - Mark. He is very frank about almost everything to the point where I am taken aback. I decide to cut to the chase and ask him what he thinks of Unitec girls. “They're pretty cool. There's probably some that aren't very cool. But most of the ones I've met have been great. Lotsa real good lookers too. That's nice. Having a bunch of babes to stare at makes lectures way sweeter. Even better if you get to sit next to one. I reckon more than half the chicks I've done while I've been here have been ones that I've just gone and sat next to in a class and been nice and not been a dick and struck up a conversation with.” October 15th 2008: Jane is quite simply the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She has been in many of the same lectures as me over the past two years, and every time she enters a lecture theatre, I feel my heart surge into life and blood pulse around my body like liquid bullets. She makes me light up. Yesterday I sat next to her. We were being told about Frank Lloyd Wright and his influence on contemporary New Zealand architecture, but I don't remember anything that was said. I was too transfixed on how close I was to her. She had an aroma. It was glorious and fruity. After class I offered to buy her a coffee. We sipped flat whites in the Long Black and discussed the kind of building we dream of designing. She's keen on libraries. I invited her out to dinner. I don't remember what we ate. She came back to my house and we kissed and made love. She let me put it in her bum.- Mark. He is so matter of fact that it's hard to gauge how he feels about all his sexual exploits. I couldn't sense any guilt. His masses of erotic encounters come across like non-events. It means nothing to him. As if sleeping with so many young women is the norm. Does he feel bad? Does he feel like he's hurting anyone? He pauses for a moment; “I don't think so. Nobody's being used or anything. It's just young people having fun. And at the end of the day, both parties have gotten a little joy. Put it this way; every chick I've slept with has been a different experience. But they've all been special in one way or another. Every single one of them has been memorable. Even the one's who were crap in bed. I remember every girl's name and what every girl looked like and what I liked about every girl I've done it with. Nobody's getting hurt here.” I left the interview on the verge of agreement with Mark. Perhaps he's right. Perhaps being a playa is just all the best bits of hedonism; between comfy sheets.