Sex in the champagne room? Not for elite college students, according to a recent study. Apparently, libido's a lot lower in the upper ranks. Intelligence and sexual drive just simply don't mix.

Yeah, yeah, knew that, thanks IvyGate. But what if I told you that...

ZERO percent of Wellesley Studio Art majors are virgins?

That's right. Not. A. Single. One. That's, like, a whole 20 percent from the next closest major, those randy-ass kids in the Anthropology department. You paying attention, Crimson?

Wait, no you're not, 'cause 59 percent of you are virgins. And neither are Princeton kids, for that matter -- you're at 56 percent.

Apparently there are a whole lot of people too busy watching Sex and the City and Entourage episodes to, you know, um, actually get down to it. But fear not! Those liberal arts kids are turning the tables, and the sexin' is happening somewhere in isolation in Tiny Collegetown, USA. The contrasting Wellesley by-major breakdown below:

As someone in the IvyGate office mentioned, "Studio art girls PUT. OUT."

Not only does this confirm every stereotype in existence about art-school girlfriends -- um, and liberal arts colleges (which includes you, Brown), and undeclared majors, and students in the hard sciences (yes, I said hard, get your mind out of the gutter for Christ's sake) -- but that lends so much more insight into Newell's previous post about a certain presidential hopeful.

Ugh. What was Hillary's major again? Political science? Nevermind, that explains everything.

Nevertheless, there are all sorts of shockers in this data treasure trove: Neuroscience comes in third? Philosophy is only middling? Computer science comes in fifth, at 40 percent virgins?

Jesus lord. On that note, what the hell's going on over at MIT? (Actually, nothing -- according to the full study, only 65 percent of MIT GRADUATE students have had sex. Oy.)

Maybe some explanation, courtesy of a University of Texas study:

Another idea, consistent with popular media portrayals of geeks and nerds (males at least), is that intelligent people actually want to have sex, but are simply less likely or unable to obtain willing partners because they are disproportionately viewed as unattractive or undesirable as partners.

To bring it full-circle, classic insight from the Harvard Independent into the evolutionary psychology of Harvard dating:

Let's take the typical Harvard girl and give her the same complementary attributes, and what you have is the ubiquitous problem of the "H-Bomb." Whether you realized this or not, your acceptance into Harvard eliminated 99.99% of the world's male population from being your potential love interest. Societal "standards" have deemed that you should date an Ivy-leaguer. And yes, I realize that it's like some sick, twisted perpetuation of social Darwinism. There are slim pickings, dears, when you look at your pool of candidates. On top of the fact that you have been sucked into the cult of Ivy-cest, the "lower" Ivy males are scared of you like none other. You attend the school they were rejected from.

So what does this all mean? I don't know, I majored in journalism and I haven't had my coffee yet. But I swear, they must be putting something in the water up there.

So Ivy women, speak up! Surprised? E-mail ivygate.guest@gmail.com with your stories and we might compile them into one big anonymous list of sexual anecdotes proving or disproving our little theory. It'll be like a digital Tom Wolfe novel, all on your RSS feed.

Oh, and by the way? Extrapolated, it also means there's are 50-50 even odds on Diane Sawyer's status while she was there as an English major.

Yeah. Exactly. -- ANDREW NUSCA

Hillary Rodham was quite the scholarly scribe at Wellesley in the late 1960s. A popular and inadvertently funny article in Sunday's New York Times (hey, remember this?) reveals letters she wrote to her goody goody Illinois friend, John Peavoy, then a Princeton undergrad. Peavoy, like any trustworthy old pal, recently sent the Times copies of these really personal letters.

One of these letters is notable for IvyGate's reasons. It might just involve some Ivy League debauchery, Hot Rodham-style. But first, let's check out some of our bespectacled maven's best lines. They're... weird.

• "Since Xmas vacation, I've gone through three-and-a-half metamorphoses and am beginning to feel as though there is a smorgasbord of personalities spread before me. So far, I've used alienated academic, involved pseudo-hippie, educational and social reformer and one-half of withdrawn simplicity." Intellectually perturbed Hillary Rodham, spring of 1967
• "I'd play out in the patch of sunlight that broke the density of the elms in front of our house and pretend there were heavenly movie cameras watching my every move." Wistful Hillary Rodham, fall of 1966
• "I have been enjoying myself too much, and spring and letter-writing are -- to the bourgeois mind -- no excuses!" Self-flagellating Hillary Rodham, fall of 1966

Oh Barrister Peavoy, I dost feareth that my oeuvre of lexical configurations will be coarsened by an upstart ragamuffin medium as I chance electorally for neo-Queen of the colonial republic!

And so, on with the tale. When not churning out her overwrought woe-is-me's, Rodham was gettin' down and... not having sex. Not until one night, that is, when she got keen on a (Big?) Green in the hamlet of Hanover, New Hampshire.

Readers, this might get a little too steamy for some of you. But if you've got a curious mind and an even dirtier disposition, I suggest you put the kids to bed, spin some Marvin and let the Telegraph's account of young Rodham's Dahhtmouth tryst set your mind ablaze.

For censorship reasons, it will come after the jump.

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