Volume CCXXXII, Number
27 November, 2002
Page 2
News from south of here:
Haven't you always been just a little bit curious about what goes on behind the crenellated towers of Yale College? No? Neither was the Spy. At least not until one of our campus scouts slipped us, hot off the presses, as it were, the output of the sex columnist for the Yale Daily News, the notorious Magnolia "Nollie" Tangere. Maybe she's got the hardest job in journalism, but you have to give it to her: her column goes all the way down the page each week. [That's enough; this isn't FX – Ed.]
SEX TALK
With our notorious sex columnist
NOLLIE TANGERE
It was Saturday night in New Haven and in the overheated non-stop ultra-sophisticated world of Yale College that can mean only one thing: sex – lots and lots of talk about sex.
Rachel, Melanie and I were just hanging around the suite, as usual, bemoaning the incredible lack of sophistication and savoir-faire of the average dorky immature male Yalie and debating who ate the last of Melanie's Mallomars when our incredibly sexually sophisticated friend Rachael (with an "a," like Hester Prynne, one comp.-lit. major pointed out!) flounced in with her traditional Saturday night greeting: "Any Mallomars?"
Rachael then regaled us with tales of her newest boyfriend, although he sounded nothing like the boys who try to paw us. And here's a tip for Fred
in JE: you can't rip a woman's bra off. They don't work that way.
"I can't believe that three attractive high-achieving women are hanging around the dorm on a Saturday night," Rachael-with-an-a began. "It just shows you how incredibly immature and boring the men are on this campus. I mean it's like being in high school, except that in high school I was having an affair with my driver's-ed teacher."
Melanie interrupted: "I think there's some Tostitos in Nollie's room. And why aren't you in New York with that performance artist guy?" she asked, with the bold, direct attitude that so intimidates the boys around here, who wouldn't know what to do with a real Yale woman if they actually got into bed with one, not that that's going to happen.
"Oh, he's so over," said Rachael, drawing a mysterious veil over yet another chapter of her sexual history. "I dumped him for Andre." Rachael always had the most exotic boyfriends and we knew this was going to be good.
"Does he go to Yale?" I asked.
"Would I be lying in his chair exhausted from sexual bliss if he went to Yale?" Rachael asked. We shook our brilliant, knowledgeable cosmopolitan heads. Melanie found my secret stash of Tostitos – doesn't anyone have any privacy around here?
"He's a rap star. And he's from New Haven. And he's black. And you all know what that means." Again we shook our knowledgeable heads. "Let's just say the sex was fantastic." Rachael moaned again.
The lesson is clear: if you want good lovin', stay away from those Yale boys. And now I want to answer some questions from my sexually experienced and worldly readers:
Q. I picked up a condom from the Women's Body Awareness table at Harkness last week and I really feel empowered, like I'm really control of my sexuality now. My only question is how do you get the little square packet to stay on the guy's penis? Won't it fall off? And it seems like it would be kind of scratchy. – Ariel, J.E.
A. Gals, I can't say it enough: if you want to have lots and lots of sex – and who among us doesn't? – be sure to pack your own condoms. And don't expect any Yale guy to have his own. What do they think – the birth control fairy is going to leap into the room at the right moment? Ariel, you might want to open it before you put it on him. And by the way, Emily was asking how come they can't put it on themselves? As she notes, "They can put on their socks, can't they?"
Q. A bunch of us were sitting around the other night over pizza comparing our orgasms. How do you know for sure if you've had one or not. I mean, I know Bucky has them because he yells and falls asleep after about thirty seconds, but I'm not sure if I do. – Hannah, Branford
A. Women today are more concerned about their orgasms than ever, although of course you can always fake one if you want to. My suggestion would be for you to buy a vibrator – you can get them at the CVS, and then try it out in your own room. Let me know how it goes!
Q. Lemme ask you a question: how come you Yale bitches are talkin' all the time you given' it up. I'm tryin' to concentrate like on my bonin' and the ho is jabbering about how sexual she is and how she loves sex but she never shut up. The only time you can get the bitch to stifle is when she's chompin' on your johnson. I mean, that's fine too but when a man is tryin' to get it done he wants some oohs and oh-babies but he don't want to hear some jive about the bitch's immature roomates (unless they lookin' for some too, in which case I'm glad to oblige). And by the way, you Yale girls have got some hairy shit goin' on. You got to start shavin' some of that nasty. – Andre, Dunkin' Donuts, Elm Street
A. Do you work there mornings or afternoons?
Next week in Sex Talk: Rachael says she could finally have an orgasm if she didn't have to take the acyclovir. Till then, keep talking!
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