Dearest incoming freshmen: I have been called upon, as the resident sexpert at the Yale Daily News, to bestow upon you some of my sexy wisdom, to show you — or rather, tell you — how we do it, when we do it and how often we do it here in the Elm City. You are young, you are hip, you are beautiful and you are smart, and if you’re anything like any one of your classmates, you are ready to bonk. You are ready to bonk a lot. Well freshmen, you have come to the wrong place. At Yale, it seems we discuss sex far more than (admittedly) we actually have it. This is essentially the reason for my job. I talk about sex. A lot.

I will begin with the assumption that many of you are involved in long fulfilling relationships with the loves of your lives (read: you are dating someone you went to high school with and hope to continue to do so). My advice: get rid of the love of your life before you come to college. The burden of the high school boyfriend (or girlfriend) will follow you for the majority of your freshman year. You will have long dramatic phone conversations that culminate in a fury of tears and “I love you”s mixed with “I hate you”s and topped off with the hurling of textbooks across your room, narrowly missing the head of your Guatemalan roommate. You will experiment with what is called an “open relationship,” which is essentially the most pathetic way to guarantee ass-getting during all the major college holidays. This is of course guaranteed until — gasp — they find someone better than you to date. Who knew your ex could find someone more intelligent, well-rounded and attractive at the Borough of Manhattan Community College?

It is when these bonds are broken that the fun can REALLY start. Ladies leave your man at home, right? The club is full of ballers with their pockets full of chrome, huh? Yale has a total of six ballers, and if I ever ran into someone with chrome in their pockets, I’d be out like a boner in sweatpants. Like a fat kid in dodgeball. Like most members of an a cappella group. Bottom line, local clubs like Toad’s and most on-campus parties are not the ideal places to meet the love of your life. They are the ideal places to meet the love of tonight. Which brings me to my next myth-breaking point. Girls, when you get to college, everyone tells you that you will meet the man you are going to marry. You, they say, are going to fall in love. You will go on dates at fancy restaurants and picnic in the park. You will have a date to every formal, semiformal and not-so-formal event in your Yale career. LIES. ALL LIES. I have been here for two glorious years, and I am still waiting for love, actually, scratch that, ANYONE who is interested in commitment to knock on my door.

Speaking of people who shy away from commitment, it seems that males entering college are subject to an entirely different myth. Guys are told that college is a magical place, one where thousands upon thousands of unbearably attractive girls who WANT TO SLEEP WITH YOU are wandering around in bikinis all the time. Rain, sleet, snow, fog, monsoon — there will be chicks in bikinis. This is only a half truth. If you replace “all the time” with “Saturday night at Toad’s” and you replace “bikini” with “extremely short black miniskirt,” you’re pretty much on the right track.

All right, so now I’m beginning to feel a little guilty. I hope I have not totally crushed your (wet) dreams before you’ve even gotten to Camp Yale. So what should you all expect when you get here? Everyone’s experience, in the end, is completely different. You may indeed fall in love with the girl (or boy) next door. You may get engaged in the post office. You may end up sleeping with an entire team, a cappella group or circle of friends. To the Class of 2006, I say have fun, be safe, be crazy and get laid along the way.

Natalie Krinsky — who, believe it or not, was once a freshman too.