Melany Perez

Pining after your FroCo? Dying to get on the orgy panlist? Sick of seeing khakis on men? You’re in luck! Welcome to Sex on the WKND, YDN’s anonymous column dedicated to answering your burning questions about sex, love and anything in between. Obsessing over sex is a Yale tradition as old as the Oldest College Daily itself. This year, we have a love-guru columnist who has done it all — including everyone on the aforementioned orgy panlist — and is ready to share. Whether you have a seminar with a hookup-gone-wrong or accidentally sent a raunchy text to your chemistry study group, Sex on the WKND is ready to help. Don’t be shy. Submit your anonymous questions, stories, and tips here.

In between extorting TAs to raise grades and threatening to call their lawyer, the Yale student attempts to have sex. As much as he’d like to think he is, the Yale student is not in any way special or unique in this regard. This is a quest that has been pursued since the dawn of time. Before there was fire in the form of flint, there was another type of friction generating heat (sex, duh).

In order to have sex, the Yale student joins certain clubs, enrolls in certain classes, takes certain routes to said clubs and classes. Why in the world would anyone else join Club Running? Or the Yale Daily News, for that matter? People cheat on their girlfriends and go to Introductory Macroeconomics, eat lunch in Commons and Berekely, just on the off chance that someone will have sex with them. Perhaps even more interesting: people will have sex with people they do not like on the off chance that someone better and blonder will have sex with them. They will not admit this but I will admit this for them. 

This is our last week of production which means it’s my last time writing Sex on the WKND. And like any High Street fraternity brother who has just finished doing the deed, I’m probably going to cry and talk about myself. My time at Yale is coming to an end, and so is this fleeting anonymity – and I’m going to make use of it. Instead of my usual jokes and hookup horror stories, I’m going to give you all something that absolutely no one asked for: my advice. For those of you still reading, here is some departing wisdom (but you didn’t take it from me):

Hookups at college are like snacks at the BowWow – they’re there for the taking (with consent, of course). And they probably don’t taste as good as you imagined. 

Whatever mediocre sex you might have with your seminar crush, it’s not worth even a fraction of the awkwardness that comes after. Discussing Freud is unbearable as it is, discussing Freud while sitting next to a man who has seen your vagina is unimaginable. 

Probably don’t have sex with your friends. Probably. Definitely don’t have sex with ex’s of friends. Definitely. 

You are going to get ghosted, your friends are going to get ghosted, and this fact is going to cause you to ghost some nice boy who has never been ghosted before. And then he’s going to ghost the next girl he sleeps with. It’s cruel, but it’s the circle of college sex life. Don’t read too much into it (there’s nothing there to read anyway).

And for all those periods of time when the previous advice doesn’t really apply: you are not the only one not having sex. Don’t trick yourself into thinking that you are, and don’t let that falsehood trick you into having sex you don’t want to be having. We go to Yale, for crying out loud––this campus has the largest concentration of virgins in America (only beaten by BYU).

And please, do your homework. Orgasms are brief, GPAs are forever. 

Signing off, SOTW ‘24