Your Celibacy: Harvard’s Fault?

A lot of people have been coming up to us on the street with their responses to our column, which is amazing, since we’ve only been writing in Spare Change News for two weeks. Who knew that the homeless had such a thirst for dating advice? We’ve been incredibly disappointed, however, with the total lack of recognition for this little side-project here in FM.

We started this column to get girls, and if we don’t see some results pronto, then these hand cramps are not going to get any better and our ceilings are not going to get any cleaner. Yet your lukewarm response will not be the only responsible party when those semen stalactites leave us no option but to start wearing hard hats just to do homework.

No, University Hall will be equally guilty, having set up a veritable obstacle course to intercourse here on campus. Let’s briefly consider just a few facets of this wretched regime.

Our first problem is with the arbitrary tradition of housing freshmen in the Yard. Wouldn’t it be way easier for us to hook up with them if they lived in the Houses? Furthermore, it’s obviously crazy for the school to quarantine a quarter of the students, especially when they’re clean as a whistle and we’re the ones with the raging STDs.

We hate to say it, but it appears that Derek C. Bok is acting a little selfishly, keeping them all to himself. Honestly, dude, what’s the point of having a presidential harem if you can command any female professor to have sex with you at any time? We’ve heard about your “tickles for tenure” program, and it is astonishing. We applaud you.

The second obstacle to orgies is slightly less conspicuous, but equally guilty. It is the vicious plague of diarrhea produced by the Harvard University Dining Services. So listen, HUDS, it’s time to cut down on that chicken tikka masala. Because how are we supposed to be attracted to females if we are constantly reminded of the most awkward fact of human life: girls poop. That saucy little crush of yours might say that she’s getting up to “wash her hands,” but we know that she’s really running off to hatch a venomous chocolate bowl dragon. The last thing we want to think about when hooking up is that poop came out of there. We’d much rather focus on the panoply of intoxicating flavors and the sharkskin texture.

To make things worse, HUPD has a way of always interrupting us when we’re about to put the moves on girls. And remarkably, they usually only show up because the girl called them. Those guys think that just because they have a badge and a gun, they can cockblock whenever they want. But if they’re really interested in making campus safer, they should give us pickup lines and dental dams instead of arrest warrants.

Bottom line is that this school is full of hot girls, especially after ten beers, and all we’re asking for is a chance, a chance to show them the classy guys that we are.