Ah, Valentine’s Day. As if we needed another painful reminder that we’re getting less action than the cast members of High School Musical, here comes a holiday entirely devoted to love and the pursuit of making it.
University is a time when we’re supposed to be doin’ it—a lot. Gluts of films promote images of languid undergrads engaging in dorm room threesomes, alongside sexually-confused TAs, hot profs, and winsome roommates. Students apparently engage hourly in rough love against campus stairwells, library stacks, and chemistry labs, as previously bespeckled physics majors reveal pneumatic, perfectly shaped gazongas to their charmingly rakish RAs.
Nobody’s having more sex than university students, especially ones situated in one of the largest cities in North America. So why are so many of us complaining?
As someone who, until recently, previously held a level of expertise equated with the most submissive of 13-year-old girls, I’m here to tell you that sex can, in fact, happen to you. Maybe you’re nervous that your lack of know-how will single you out. Maybe you think that no one’s gonna love you, or that you’re incapable of letting someone into your life. But, to use a rather obvious analogy: once you learn how to ride a tricycle, hopping on a motorcycle is the next logical step in a long line of trips down lover’s lane.
One of my all-time favourite depictions of the “university experience” comes from Judd Apatow’s Undeclared, a college sitcom in which a group of friends who occupy a grubby co-ed dorm go through every coming of age subplot in a successive bound of sixteen hilarious and all-too truthful episodes. Nothing is more telling than the way the protagonist Steven loses his virginity to the girl next door (or should I say, across the hall), Lizzie, who still remains ensconced in a pitiful long-distance relationship with her psycho boyfriend Eric. Who we are when we begin our first year, and where we end up is never a fixed state. We grow exponentially and into ourselves.
Throughout these four years, yeah, we’re supposed to learn about Kantian imperatives and the teleogical aims of the fall of the Berlin Wall—but we’re also supposed to experience facets of our upcoming adulthood. This means experimenting with Jaegerbombs and hash pipes, art history minors and vegan diets. And this includes sex (and love) too.
While a “safety first!” maxim is always encouraged, in honor of this totally corporate/heterosexist holiday of hell, let’s take a pro- Obama stance and say, “Yes we can!” Yes we can have sex. And yes we will.
The Varsity wishes all our readers the happiest of Valentine’s Day, whether you celebrate it solo or with a friend. Treat your partners fairly, and love yourself. Oh, and don’t forget to play side one of The Very Best of Prince. Ohhhh, yeah.
