In this, the season of girls gone wild, of wet t-shirt contest and body shots off strangers, of drunken hookups and hungover flights home, of unexpected sunburns and fully-expected barf-fests, I have a terrible confession to make: I never went on Spring Break. I know that I missed out on a great American tradition, and that I will now never fully know the experience that is “college, bro!” But there are reasons for why I skipped out on Spring Break, and if you, too, never got to experience the magic of that debauched week in March/April, perhaps you’ll relate.

First off, Spring Break is hella expensive! I know you can do it on the cheap, but even that seems like a lot of money when you’re in college. My parents made a good income and qualified for adequate loans to pay for my college education, but that didn’t mean they had a ton of extra cash to drop on their little darling’s fiesta de blowjobs in Cancun. And while I always had one job or another in college — all six, count ‘em, six years — I was never a good enough saver to put aside extra money for a Spring Break trip. I spent my college money on extracurricular books and tea and eventually the morning-after Pill, like any horny, nervous, Catholic dork. Speaking of which…

‘Twasn’t until my junior year (my first junior year) that I had the kind of sex where a penis goes inside a vagina (note that this is only one kind of sex and that sexual activity is a beautiful spectrum — a veritable rainbow of fun flavors!). Anyway, I was convinced that Spring Break meant boning, boning, boning, and as I was afraid of boning until I was 21, when I actually boned, it seemed to me that I would not enjoy this festival du bonejams. For some reason, the concept of just making out with a random didn’t seem like a thing that happened at Spring Break. I figured it was all or nothin’ at all.

I didn’t get into booze until I was 23, when my then-boyfriend introduced me to the power of tequila shots. To this day, I only enjoy hard liquor; I never trained on beer, and beer has never appealed to me. Anyway, my college journey was not soaked in alcohol, and it seemed to me then and seems to me now that Spring Break is really about getting super-wasted in the sunshine. I was not interested in getting super-wasted. Also, I wasn’t that into sunshine…

The beach is fine. There is nothing wrong with the beach, so long as I can sit under an umbrella or tent or cabana and take a nap while everybody else does beach things. I had skin cancer when I was 17 (not a big deal — outpatient procedure, not painful, done in one day, permanent small scar) and the experience made a bit of an impression on me. I’d never been much of a beach person before then, on account of all the sunburn. I had to reapply sunblock twice as often as the next person, and even then, I seemed to get a burn. But after the skin cancer thing, I was like, “Yeah, you know what? I’ll stick to activities that involve sweaters. Like walking on a cool fall day in the mountains whilst drinking apple cider.” Plus, I grew up at the Jersey Shore, which historically has not had the cleanest beaches. And also I hate the feeling of seaweed on my legs. And I’m freaked out by slimy underwater creatures. Therefore, a beach doesn’t seem very fun to me.

I’m agoraphobic, which means I have a fear of being outside my physical comfort zone (like, say, the safety of my own home). I’m on a bunch of sweet drugs and travel all the frigging time now, but back in college, I was undermedicated. I had panic attacks all the time. The thought of going to Lake Havasu and having a monster freak-out in a kayak did not appeal to me.

Listen, I love my girlfriends as much as the next gal, but not enough to share a double bed with five of them for six days. I like my space. I like my privacy. I like my room to breathe. I like having my own bathroom. Have you ever shared a bathroom with five other women? It is an intense and sometimes disturbing experience. I don’t recommend it. Nor do I recommend sharing a bathroom with five men. Or five anyones. The point is this: I like a little more comfort than the average Spring Break trip seems to provide.

I’m a lot more fun than I was in college, but I’m still not a hard partying gal. Today, my idea of a perfect Spring Break would probably involve going to a day spa, getting a massage, sitting in various hot, warm, and cold pools of water, getting another massage, taking a nap, and then eating the hell out of some kind of pasta. After that, maybe some bourbon by a fire and then sleep in a warm bed. So if someone can make that happen for me, I’ll be more than happy to take my top off and scream, “SPRING BREAAAAAAAK!” You know, in the privacy of my own bathroom.

Sara Benincasa is a comedian and the author of Great and Agorafabulous!: Dispatches From My Bedroom. She tweets @sarajbenincasa and is currently on tour: dates are at