This article is part of Upstream, The Daily Wire’s new home for culture and lifestyle. Real human insight and human stories — from our featured writers to you. *** “Off Campus” serves millennial women all the soapy college romance they could ever want. But even though it trounced “The Summer I Turned Pretty” in views, Amazon’s third most-watched show ever didn’t need to go so hard on the explicit content to tell the story.  “I’m Six Flags, baby. Everybody wants a ride,” hockey hunk Dean Di Laurentis says with a smirk. “They come for a good time, not a long time. And that’s fine by me.” Heh heh heh. Aaand action on shenanigans. Like “Heated Rivalry” for moms with Prime accounts, “Off Campus” comes out swinging with a lingering closeup on main squeeze Garrett Graham’s backside less than two minutes into the series. Directing the female gaze slightly north, a tattoo between his shoulder blades reads “nullum gratuitum prandium,” Latin for “there is no free lunch.” (I feel like the only nerd who ever paused the show and ChatGPT-ed this, but now you know.) By 16:34, I was fully floored by the revelation that a streaming series on the same platform where I buy Paul Newman dog treats could show NSFW body parts doing NSFW stuff to an audience that most definitely includes teens. Despite the TV-MA alert (meaning the mature content is allegedly suitable for ages 18-plus), it gave me the ick.  I was a kid once, in a home without cable. If ever a PG kissing scene made it past the nine levels of network censorship and onto primetime, my mom would fly to the TV to cover it with a blue throw from our sofa (the censorship blanket!) until the scene was over.  I have since seen some things. Three-quarters of the way through the first episode of “Off Campus,” my eyes were already fully dilated with gender equitable top-and-bottomlessness, as well as a wide variety of inspiration for when mommy and daddy really love each other. For the record, I’m not a prude. I spent decades working in Hollywood and went to art school where we regularly sketched nude strangers to learn to interpret the human form like the Old Masters. I appreciate the cinematography of “Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls” from “Titanic” and the “Cry To Me” sequence in “Dirty Dancing,” which threaded the needle on tasteful late-’80s dirty dancingness. Even though the premise of “Off Campus” didn’t hook me right away (the main college co-eds pretend to be a believable couple so an outside love interest will suddenly want the girl he can’t have), and the classroom backdrop smacked of vampirey werewolf love triangles of the aughts, I was determined to watch the eight-part series with my boyfriend and finally discover what all the fuss was about. “You’re on your own,” he announced, after suffering through episode one. Not for guys. Noted. Still, I was fascinated by a girl from my gym who was already watching the season for a third time — and editing her Hinge profile to describe her ideal match as a “Garrett Graham type” — less than a month after the series debuted. Actual hockey entered the chat halfway through the first episode. Guys, I’m neither Catholic nor plain folk, but I felt like an Amish nun streaming this stuff, covering my head, my ankles, and my eyes. At least figuratively. I wondered aloud to female friends if they, like the Allie Hayes character, ever just popped off their bras and held serious conversations with same-sex roommates with the headlights on. “Yes.” “No!” Respondents were divided. Before episode two began, I got an ad for the dating site Tinder, which apparently streams Spotify now. The show returned with a lingerie-clad makeout and a bored couple flipping through a Kama Sutra-style calendar for ideas. But 20:30 hit with a “we have to practice kissing in the weight room” scene. Ten minutes later, Allie was dancing at a frat party dressed like JLo in barely there, plunging Versace. By episode three, I briefly blacked out thinking that maybe the show was mellowing out on the mature themes. But 1:45 brought me back to reality with an intimate dream sequence involving a piano; 8:55 involved a couple taking a shower. At 12:37, lead Hannah Wells walks in on her “fake boyfriend” Garrett and another girl. He wipes his mouth as they do the “don’t you ever lock your door” routine, and at 18:49 we keep things moving with another spicy dream sequence. At the time of filming, the actress playing Hannah, Ella Bright, was just 18. The rest of the cast was roughly a decade older.  Episode four notoriously featured Hannah hoping her nonboyfriend-friend Garrett could help her overcome her trauma to finally experience pleasure. Separately but in Garrett’s bedroom together, at 20 minutes in, they … pop the champagne. (I’m running out of words.) Shortly after this, at the halfway point in the season, they realize they have feelings for each other. Utterly shocking, seeing as how much “practicing” they’ve done together.  It’s this moment where Hannah ditches her third wheel crush and goes all in on Garrett. The scene unfolds in the arena, as Garrett busily battles his inner demons on the ice, rage-shooting pucks on an open goal. Hannah’s beautiful voice echoes through the empty seats; Garrett whips off his skates and runs to her. They embrace. They kiss. The chemistry has never been so real. I briefly consider where the show goes from here if the will-they-won’t-they leads just got together. As I begrudgingly acknowledge my investment in the storyline, I realize — wait a minute. They had all their clothes on for the most compelling scene of the show!  All those bras, bath towels, and perfectly rumpled sheets were just shiny objects. For a good show to become great, the relationships need to ring true. That compelling moment was followed by episode five (1:11 through 4:19), literally the longest unpaywalled or age-gated montage of Garrett and Hannah’s highly amorous relationship. Do they ever study? Does all the stress about hockey and music scholarships from earlier matter? I’m aware that the series is based on the books by New York Times bestselling author Elle Kennedy, but it seems to be adapted for TV by out-of-work adult entertainment writers. With the explosion of OnlyFans, it’s surely been tough times for the industry.  I take more notes as I trudge through the rest of the season. Episode six didn’t load until I watched an ad for Liquid I.V.’s “Ring Pop Cherry” flavor, which is related to the show in at least two ways. Bedroom scenes and bare chests do nothing for the story, and a bright pink “intimacy device” gets in on the fun as part of an interrupted bathtub romp.  For those of you hoping for none of this, please see PG story-driven episode seven. But by the final episode, prepare yourself for the full monty in the men’s locker room. Don’t worry, it’s the camera, not you, gawking at each player’s private parts.   “Off Campus” season two will descend in 2027. And while the storyline is set to shift to other faces in the friend group, I imagine that, once again, there won’t be much need for the wardrobe department.