Sexile Island – Where the Sexiled Go

 

New Photo for Sexile

It is a place of dreams, a place of camaraderie, a place of comfort and occasionally, a place of tears. Some have visited, many have heard the legend. It is the fabled, the well-traveled, the popular weekend destination of exiled roommates and friends: Sexile Island.

We have been lucky enough to recover a first-hand account of Sexile Island from an unfortunate freshman who visited this mysterious place only this past weekend. The memory was still fresh in his mind.

Journal Entry – November 7, 2015

            I was returning to my dorm after a late night of razor scooter racing and general mayhem-making around the campus. My stumbling legs, weak from the exertions of the evening, wanted only to bring my body to the comforts of my ridiculously small bed when, from a distance, I saw it.

A sock. On my door handle. A flicker of hope remained, a hope that let me tell myself that this might be a joke, that I wasn’t about to be…no….not….sexiled. Above the sock on our whiteboard, written in pink cursive, I saw the note. A simple, “sorry bro XOXO”.

Something broke inside of me. I felt myself crumple to the ground as sobs escaped my body. Unsure of what to do, I stumbled to the door, exiting the building, only to discover other students going the same direction with similar expressions on their faces. Expressions of loss, of pain, and of confusion.

We stumbled forward, not sure of where we were going but knowing only that something was pulling us forward, through the campus, through bushes and roads until finally, in one magical moment, we arrived.

Sexile Island. This had to be it, the place I had only heard about, the place where sexiled roommates spend their room-less nights with others who have experienced similar loss. I looked around and saw the welcoming faces of people who had been here before, letting us know that everything was going to be okay.

We were welcomed with warm blankets, easy mac, and the reassurance that we’d have plenty of time to nap back in our own undersized beds in the morning. As I wandered through this tiny haven of Sexile Island, I witnessed tired, lost sexiled students beginning to realize that everything was going to be okay.

Backs were slapped, hands were shaken, and various bites of easy mac were exchanged. We realized we were all in this together, that we would get through the night.

Those who had been here before guided us to an area in the trees where a sheet had been strung up, serving as a screen. A singles-only walk in movie, if you will. We were given hammocks and blankets. Those who were crying from lack of cuddling were given Kleenexes and stuffed animals to qualm their emotions.

We watched “The Notebook” and “The Lucky One” and talked about how even though it didn’t seem like it right now, someday we would be lucky enough to be the sexiler, not the sexilee.

Alas, though so much seemed lost, this place gave us something we did not think we could feel. It gave us easy mac, it gave us an unbreakable bond, and most of all, it gave us hope. Hope that we could find comfort amongst our sexiled brothers and sisters. And hope that, in the morning, the sexiled would be welcomed back with open arms and at least a halfhearted apology.

By Susan Alt

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Categories: News

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