I have yet to encounter an Ivy Leaguer who is majoring in sex, and yet it goes without saying that our high-minded intellectual pursuits typically fall to wayside when a pursuit of another kind fills our $50,000-per-semester brains. According to the Kinsey Institute, 54% of men have sex on the brain everyday or several times a day, along with 19% of women. And among undergrads, 98% of men masturbate, as do 44% of women. The numbers don’t lie (though some of the women in this study obviously do).
But fear not, lusty co-eds, all your desires for stimulating sexual studies can be satisfied just the way you always wanted them—in a lecture. Today, four of the Ivy League’s most infamous sex columnists will gather at Cornell to “Bare All” in a panel so named. But despite the event’s title, I expect that like many descriptions of sexual happenings at Ivy campuses, it cannot be taken at face value—and that the panelists will indeed be wearing clothes.
In this, as in any lecture within an Ivy’s hallowed halls, you’ll want to know you’re being taught by the experts. Cornell’s columnists apparently lack last names, though seeing as they will be seen at this panel their identities will be revealed soon enough. We can still scrutinize their credentials, though. While these panelists might not have Ph.D.s, here’s Cornell columnist Jeff K.’s resume:
I have been blessed with the opportunity to sleep with girls. Many, many girls. I’m not going to give you my laundry list or show you my bedpost (which is notched like a saw), but it’s probably more than you think for a skinny Jewish kid from Long Island.”
Congratulations to you, Jeff. Also representing Cornell, past columnist and lover “of sluttin’” Jenna B. will be coming to you with her famously differently sized breasts (“No, seriously — my left neener is a C cup and my right is an A cup,” she reports). And to all you hopefuls out there, Jenna says:
“Suddenly I opened my eyes one day and realized it: I’m in a serious relationship. … with peen.”
Next on this list of people who didn’t win a Truman Scholarship this year is Claire Gordon of Yale. She appears to enjoy discussing penises if not the penises themselves: “The cult of the penis is a construct, a lie, a dangerous and destructive myth.” Perhaps Gordon should have gone to Barnard, where the edifice of the Cult of Our Lady Parts is now open for business (so to speak).
Lena Chen, the Marianne of IvyGate’s early days, is back — or, really, she never went away. While she may have cut short the youthful antics that made Sex and the Ivy such a fun read, she’s been trucking away on a thesis — apparently about virginity — for which she’ll take requests. If you send Lena your favorite word, she’ll do her very best to squeeze it into the culmination of her academic career: so far, she’s found places for “hodge-podge,” “willy-nilly,” “lollygag,” and “hullaballoo,” though, shockingly, “sexual napalm” has been elided.
Also, we admire Lena’s ability to build on her past infamy and become an interesting — dare we say delightful? — internet presence. How many internet memes are willing to build on their fame in order to show the world their actual achievements, rather than reveling in bad behavior or disappearing altogether? Bravo, Lena! (But if you make any poor decisions, we’re coming for you.)
There was something about Rumpus’ recently released 50 Most Beautiful list that seemed a little off. No, not the typos, falsifications, or numbers accidentally written in Arabic (seriously). We couldn’t quite put our finger on it. Something about the gradient: white after white after white. Maybe their printers ran out of black ink? If only…
Apparently, in the gossip rag’s esteemed opinion, a disproportionate number of Yale’s pretty people are, well, of the Caucasian variety. We’ll let the ’50 most’ numbers speak for themselves.
For comparison’s sake, here are the racial demographics of Yale as a whole, courtesy of Questbridge:
(FYI, 20 out of the 29 Rumpus-ites who worked on the issue are white… yup, about 68%)
So, using the power of math, our crack quants at IvyGate HQ have calculated that Rumpus’ 50 Most Beautiful List is 21.6% whiter than Yale in general. Ouch.
So much for the post-racial America, Barry.
Yale’s cruelest and least copy-edited “publication,” Rumpus, just dropped its trademark issue: the much-heralded and uber-nepotistic Yale’s 50 Most Beautiful. And inexplicably, there are 52 people on it. (Oh, and the cover mistakenly advertises 49, see below.) The rarely published and never fact-checked gossip rag also alludes to the exploits of a certain promiscuous “Cock Goblin,” public masturbation in Zeta, and more “truths they couldn’t prove.” Hot off the presses!
But don’t kid yourselves, you tasteless pamphleteers; we’re here for 50 Most. Best ways to get in? Know/hookup with Rumpus staff, make a public fool of oneself, (check, check) be a twin… or be beautiful, too, we guess. IvyGate’s got the list, and the balls to fact-check (stay-tuned).
Stats: The hottest Residential College is Davenport (mine, baby), with nine beautiful people, and the worst represented, Ezra Stiles, with a measly two. There are 11 freshmen, 12 sophomores, 18 juniors, and 11 seniors.
The actual hotness of these snarkily profiled folks is soon TBD. For now, feast your eyes on Movement for Beauty and Justice founder and professional airhead Justine Kolata, who made the issue alongside an exploited and confused horse above. After the jump: the full 50 Most list.
Yale College Council President and GoodCrushDarling Jon Wu just emailed all undergrads with some surprising and promiscuous (in the old-timey sense) news: Yale will offer next year’s seniors the option to live in Mixed Gender Suites. Not too much of a shocker, given that every other Ivy has already taken the gender-neutral plunge. Regardless, the email has been met with campus-wide celebration and student declarations of “victory” (after all, these kids camped out in the New Haven cold to rally for the program).
And, just like the Hanover Police, the man finally caved in. Yale’s Class of 2011 will get to mingle in unisex common-rooms and blur meaningless, culture-imposed gender lines as “part of a pilot program,” which the YCC hopes to extend to the rest of the College after a year of review. But don’t worry kids, this won’t be a complete free-for-all. The new policy:
1. Each bedroom within a suite must be single sex. A man and a woman may not occupy a double bedroom, but they can elect to live in separate single bedrooms within a suite.
So no hetero-roomie-sex, for now…
2. No student will be assigned to a mixed-gender suite against his or her will.
…or imprisonment (?).
3. Mixed-gender housing groups will get no advantage or disadvantage in the housing selection process. If they are not able to select a suite that can accommodate them, they may need to break into different groups that may or may not be mixed gender.
Plus, ostensible fairness! And finally,
4. Students in intimate relationships are strongly discouraged from entering into a shared suite arrangement.
So, basically, you can’t be like this girl... for many reasons.
The new policy found unanimous approval from the Yale Corporation (in the wake of a successful and liberating Sex Week), as well as our friends over at The Bullblog. Here at IvyGate, we’ll be reserving judgment until we see how the pilot program fares. Questions remain… Will it coax back the unwashed off-campus hordes? Will Jesse Morrell make an angry return? What will become of the fine art of sexiling? How will the trannies respond? How will Jesus respond? And has noone considered the cooties?
This breaking news brought to you by a very tired and midterm-addled IvyGate EIC. For our past coverage of Yale’s housing sturm und drang, check out this excellent analysis from our predecessor, Adam (he lives on!).
And, for what it’s worth, read the full, earth-shaking YCC email after the jump.
It’s about that time of the year when your pants are fitting a little tighter and couples, making you snarl: Valentine’s pre-week, and if you’re lucky, Sex Week as well. Slushy snowy nonsense keeps you indoors, and your achy breaky heart’s asking you to look for love in all the wrong places. What options have you got? Facebook? Umm…Grandma’s on that, now. Craigslist? Not, unless you want to be brutally axe-murdered. How about their twisted, nymphomaniac grandchild: a new site, just for lonely collegiates like yourself?
Well, why not? Guess it’s about time for a techno-regime change; young, bored college students need to redefine what’s already been defined. Myspace failed where Facebook triumphed. And now, e-Harmony’s been bested by this new, perky young thing, fresh to the Interwebs. Her name’s GoodCrush, and she’s on the prowl, eating away the last three minutes you have after Facebook-ing, Twitter-ing, Digging, Myspace-ing, Masturba… – taking long showers etc.
If your inbox hasn’t already been thoroughly molested by GoodCrush’s prying hands, then sorry… guess you’re not attractive. (Or just not the Yale student body president.) Either way, the love notices are as sex-starved as…well, as all the Ivies themselves. Take these Shakespeareans, for example:
Your beauty is so radiant it’s like you have eight legs. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.
You were wearing an argyle sweater. You’re descended from Xerxes.
You’re short and Asian and always so well-dressed…I love that you use a pink ruler to draw your graphs when taking notes….any chance you’d want to hold my ruler and lie tangent to my production possibilities frontier?
Hot. If people weren’t so busy being awkward stalkers, who knows how many children would be running around on campuses? The smell of love’s in the air, and GoodCrush is cooking up a feral pheromone stew. Or maybe that’s just the smell of lube, SAE. Either Cupid’s shooting blanks or college kids have finally realized that mystery is sexy (do me, Sherlock).
So how does it work? Crush on anyone (literally) by typing their e-mail into a precarious “crush list.” They’ll get your anonymous note and – ta-da! More confusion. They sign-up and are forced to find you by “matching” your crush. Sound like a romantic disaster? Yup: In every way possible. But it’ll get you laid, right? This Valentine’s, don’t sit alone in your room with Mr. Vibes, a Fleshlight, or your best friend: Jergens. Get out there. GoodCrush…and then smash!
Or, maybe just get trashed. Love is overrated.
The Frisky’s advice columnist “Dear Wendy” takes on Columbia’s gender-neutral housing policy — with one girl who wants to move in with her boyfriend! Maybe this girl should be asking an advice columnist why she has no friends, because any friend would tell her this is insane!
Wendy is almost too nice to our busy little Columbian, simply saying that the girl ought to sign off on a contract with her boyfriend:
If we break up, I promise not to bring dates back to our room… promise not to prance around in my underwear when you need to study.
We disagree! She should be prancing around in her underwear all she wants! Dear “Undecided Roommate”: There’s got to be something available in Broadway or Nussbaum that will not entail the actual loss of your sanity. Also: DUMP HIM. We just wanted to say that.
Kicking off Sex Week with a bang, the Yale Daily News just released the results of their campus-wide sex survey, and the results are titillating. Yalies have a lot of sex, in a lot of ways, with a lot of people.
According to the poll, 31.2 percent of students have performed or received oral sex within the last week, and 28.5 percent of students have had intercourse within the last week.
Also, just over 5% say they’ve engaged in a ménage à trois. This from a school with a Fetish Fashion show??? After polling 1,770 undergraduates, the copy-hounds at the News have worked up a feature on the results, featuring some sexy, sexy quotes. They range from the hilariously innocuous:
As explained by Sarah Matthes ’13, a large portion of this pattern can potentially be attributed to what is commonly referred to as “DFMO,” short for dance-floor makeout.
To the painfully smug:
“From a single guy’s point of view, I find few things more fun than going out at night and seeing what I can come home with,” Wyper said. “It’s fun. It’s exciting. I’m not looking to fill my empty heart. Wednesday through Saturday you have a pretty decent shot at hooking up with somebody.”
And finally, the frustratedly romantic:
“I think that very few people are actually legitimately happy with the way things are. I sincerely think that,” Ann Chou ’10 said. “I don’t think very many people are satisfied.”
We’ll leave you all to judge for yourself (that is, if you’re not busy with biweekly oral sex) after the jump, with the comprehensive results of the sex survey, featuring detailed statistics on Yalie masturbation, intercourse, three-ways, manual stimulation, relationships, make out seshes, and sluttiness. Consider this foreplay: IvyGate’s Sex Week coverage (from Dr. Suzy to Sasha Grey) will erotically continue in the coming days. Feast your eyes:
Welcome to the best sex column on the internet — and you thought Lena Chen and Julia Allison had killed the medium! Penn’s Under the Button brings us Pennetration, featuring what promises to be a rotating cast of desperate, horny ladies and strapping young “Italian-American” (this is a plot point that matters later) dudes. Somehow we don’t think that romance, Philadelphia-style sounds that appealing?
Soon, Chris became a frequent visitor, bringing with him the savory Italian foods his grandmother sent him weekly. We would meet up late night after going out with our respective friends and drunkenly manage to whip up delicious treats. One night I put on music and we turned my living room into a dance floor, Chris expertly showing me surprisingly sexy dance moves he said he had learned in ballroom dancing classes.
Okay! For those who think a sex column is TL;DR, the Under the Button editors kindly bolded the most important parts. Finally, a SparkNotes for sex! Now I want to do it. The bolded words, in order, read:
my silent but extremely eager horniness… my first post-dumping fuck… Enter: the freshman… a potentially awkward situation… I showed him my apartment… surprisingly sexy dance moves… I was going down on him… above average girth… my jaw was exhausted after a good 5 minutes… the entire time I rode him… After he cummed and I de-mounted… I could sense him getting attached… I think we should stop hooking up… dumped by a freshman that I wasn’t even dating… lube obviously, preferably the female pleasing ones… sexy, sweaty sex
It’s like magnetic poetry! As for the interstitial text, the rest is noise.