Walking home from the Honk! festivities in Davis Square today, Terri and I were chatting, and then we both suddenly fell quiet because we both started overhearing the conversation behind us. There were three guys, presumably on their way back to Tufts for a wacky Saturday night, and strategizing on the best combination of alcohol, interpersonal dynamics, and opening lines that they could use to start an orgy. I wish I had exact quotes here for you, but I don’t. The prevailing strategy, though, was that you needed a room with a large enough number of people, everybody had to be sufficiently drunk, it had to be sufficiently late at night, and then one couple might be able to start making out, and trigger a massive and simultaneous increase in hormones and decrease in social inhibitions among everyone else in the room.
Tufts freshmen are so cute.
Guys, I hate to disappoint you, but this is not a recipe for an orgy, it’s a recipe for vomit and people trying to figure out how to spend the next three years avoiding each other. Start small, like having sex with one person, and work up, OK?