Allow students to follow their instincts
Livin' on a Prayer
While you are reading this article, someone on campus may be having sex. I can't tell you who. I think, however, that we can safely rule out two people.
You, the reader, are not having sex right now, unless your significant other bores you enough that you feel compelled to read the paper while in action. And I, the author, am not having sex, unless Satan is ice-skating as we speak.
Now you'd think that my enviable position as a humor columnist would have the ladies lined up outside my door like I was distributing U2 tickets, but oddly enough, this is not the case. Actually, I don't want to give the impression that I'm some kind of sex-deprived Phantom of the Opera, writing my Observer opuses in horrible solitude from high atop the fourth floor of O'Neill Hall.
I'm doing as well as any male, non-athlete could be expected to do. It's this campus that's in trouble. That's right. Notre Dame is in trouble. I'm not talking about Bob Davie's pending resignation. I'm not talking about the bookstore's student-swindling, money-grubbing ways.
I'm not even talking about the ResLife staff's seemingly total obliviousness to the fact that the entire student body hates their guts. I'm talking about sex. Or rather, the lack of it.
I don't remember reading in the brochure here that the requirements were calculus, theology, philosophy and celibacy. If I had wanted to shut myself off from sex I would have joined the seminary. Or the band.
And there is no doubt that Notre Dame, pound for pound has less sex than most colleges. Actually, pound for pound Notre Dame has less sex than most nursing homes. This is a disturbing fact for many people. And by many people, I mean me. Especially because I came to college specifically to have large amounts of illicit sex.
Before I start hearing derisive comments about film and theatre majors, you should know, of course I came to college for "learning." But the same time I came to be in close proximity to thousands of females my own age. It was to be glorious. My parents were four hours away. Her inhibitions would be tossed away like an old Milli Vanilli T-shirt. And then I ran smack dab into du Lac.
It's obvious that the administration doesn't want us to have sex. And they show this through their rules. Parietals take care of any random sexual skirmishes that might just happen after hours in private. To make sure nothing untoward happens in 24-hour space, girls' dorms have former Nazi war criminals sitting behind the security desks. The rectoresses just made them take off the swastikas and put on huge blue shirts. And just to be thorough, you can still technically get expelled for having premarital sex.
All of this effort stems from the Catholic assertion that premarital sex is wrong. I ask now, why is it wrong? There is no right or wrong to sex as far as I'm concerned. Sex is a natural, healthy thing. It is no more morally wrong than going to the bathroom. And I've never seen a priest on the other side of the toilet stall calling me a sinner while I sit there. Well, actually I did once, but that's for another time.
There's barely even a biblical basis to this unnatural fear of sex. Abraham eagerly knocked up his slave girl with God's blessing when he assumed that his wife was barren. And I'm not even going to delve into the sexuality of Jesus, but remember he did travel with 12 other guys.
Truth be told, the University's attitude toward sex is unhealthy more than anything. Things like not offering condoms on campus show a stubborn, unrealistic attitude toward student sexuality. By trying to repress it, the administration causes more harm than good. Sexual repression can have very real and severe consequences. But don't just take my word for it. There are hundreds of altar boys who would agree with me.
Something has got to give. It's gotten to the point where the average Notre Dame student's idea of foreplay is learning his or her roommate's class schedule for easier facilitation of, well, let's call it personal time.
I personally know that I can't live like this. Breaking parietals is easy, but the few times I've done it I've been too nervous to fully enjoy myself. I don't care so much about getting into trouble, I just don't want to be chewed out by a self-righteous ResLife board asking for explicit details.
To close, I am not a bad person. A bad person cheats, steals, murders and maims. How can I be a bad person when all I want to do is give a woman the best 39 seconds of her life? That's right. You heard me ladies.
And that one person who is having sex as you read this? Well more power to him and his sinner self. I hope the whole football thing works out for him, too.
Joe Muto is a sophomore Film, Television and Theatre major who invites any interested females to help restore his faith in this campus. His column appears every other Thursday. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Thursday, November 8, 2001