In March, I agreed to spend part of my summer as a camp counselor at a small Christian camp in the south. I didn’t do it for the money — no one does. It’s only $180 a week. I didn’t do it because I am particularly religious or anything. I didn’t even do it because I had grown up going to this specific camp and was blindly loyal to it like some of my coworkers. I did it because I was having no luck getting an internship and it was my only option.
Here is what I have learned about camp: It is a fucking smokeshow. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but camp is really a commune full of hot college girls babysitting during the day and then getting fucked up at night.
After lights out for the campers, the counselor lounge at the “General Store” becomes a college bar. It is understood that at least one counselor from all 36 cabins will head there every night to chill, smoke weed, drink, and fuck each other. I’m not kidding. Camp counselors at this small Christian camp are fucking more than I did in college.
“Camp goggles” is this weird phenomenon experienced only on campgrounds. It is similar to beer goggles in that while you’re at camp, everyone around your age is attractive. Like really attractive. Then, after you leave camp, you realize there was nothing special about any of them.
Examples? I’ve got them. My co-counselor from Mississippi State, (for the story’s sake, let’s call him Dave) is pretty cool. I hadn’t met him, or anyone, from Mississippi State before. When he arrived at camp, he met a girl from Auburn he really liked. Let’s call her Kristen. Dave and I are counselors for 13-year-old boys. Kristen runs a cabin full of 11-year-old girls. During the day, you can find Kristen at the arts and crafts studio, running the daily activities for little kids. Dave is a lifeguard at the “Blob” station. Both Kristen and Dave are smart, funny people, and well-liked by the entire camp staff.
Dave and Kristen have organized schedules to where they get the same “off-nights.” They leave their cabins around 10 p.m., meet by the Chow Hall (which, ironically, doubles as a chapel), head to the designated empty “adult” cabin, and fuck each other’s brains out. It’s absurd.
Just a rock’s throw away from a sleeping child, two attractive college-aged kids are fucking essentially all the time. This isn’t an exclusive “fuck cabin” for Dave and Kristen — multiple people use it every night. If someone is fucking, you just wait until they leave. Then it’s your turn to fuck. So much sex is had at camp that I think the camp activities are merely a front for this sex co-op. Threesomes aren’t uncommon. Blowjobs on the “Lake Bus” have happened before. One girl I hooked up with gave me head after dark on the ropes swing course — right after Bible study. I’ve been here for six weeks and have hooked up with more girls than I did in a full semester in college.
I’m not advocating camp counselor life. Most of the time, it sucks. I fucking hate half of the kids in my cabin and hope nothing but the worst for them in life. They are terrible little fucks and I understand why their parents sent them away for two weeks. I would send them away forever. My job, as a mini-golf instructor (not kidding, I mentioned golf as one of my skills so this is where I was assigned), is miserable. These kids can’t read a putt worth shit. If the PGA Tour ever introduced a professional course with a windmill on the green that you had to hit under, I’d make a great caddie. I can read these putts like it’s my job, because it sort of is. The food here is awful. Some of the people are weird. The money is shit.
But, at night, it’s an awesome place — full of aroused college girls who are willing to do pretty much anything for the summer. When it’s all over, as Dave explained to me, nobody talks about it. Nobody tries to date each other. People don’t really keep up. Everyone understands the ubiquitous sexual presence at camp exists solely at camp. A camp designed for kids, but utilized by horny college kids. Dave, a camp veteran, says that the sexual prowess of each counselor isn’t unique to this summer. It happens every year.
I don’t know what my life plans are yet, but I’ve already committed to come back as a counselor in 2016..
Image via YouTube