Deckhead:

Cornell Unzipped

Body:

Neither Justin Timberlake nor the subject of his song ever really went out of style, did they? However, I have recently encountered a mentality amongst my peers which I, being my outspoken self, feel I must admonish. Students at Cornell are no strangers to self-deprivation in favor of academic achievement. Too often, it seems, I have found myself awake at 3 a.m. doing work and remembering that I accidentally forgot to eat dinner or go to sleep. I suppose I have been able to accept this lifestyle because I know that, once the weekend (aka Thursday) rolls around, I can get my fill of both sleep and entertainment for the week. Apparently, not everyone feels the same way. From what I’ve heard, the library is not a lonely place to spend a Friday night. Well, Cornell students, I think we may have just gone too far, and I would like to give you a little bit more information about what it is you’re actually giving up.

Deckhead:

Cornell Unzipped

Body:

Sorry, guys. While I encourage the acquisition of knowledge about how to perform the title’s alternative meaning just as much as the next girl, this column shall discuss a subject of equal yet widely underestimated importance. When a significant portion of our generation has to spend a disturbing amount of time thinking in order to answer the question of how much time has elapsed since their last sober kiss, it is unsurprising that the Dinner Date has become as uncommon at Cornell as (gasp!) staying in on a Thursday night. It seems that what used to serve as the means by which people got to know each other has become a strictly post-hookup activity. I think it’s high time that the Dinner Date makes a Nick-Lachey-circa-2005-style comeback. Thus, I will now embark on an 800-word literary campaign to return to the days when “dating someone” meant just that.

Deckhead:

Cornell Unzipped

Body:

“A what column?” my father asked, sounding alarmed. I’d known it wasn’t going to be easy to tell my parents that their daughter was going to write a sex column. They imagined Cornell to be a mysterious place where students leave the library only to attend class and where there are Dixie cup dispensers next to fountains of opportunities. However, they had been unexpectedly understanding about my sometimes smart and (equally frequent) not-so-smart decisions since my arrival at school. They knew orientation week is to college students what cruises are to senior citizens: the weather’s nice, the food’s buffet-style and people are willing to relax their morals to enjoy a fling with someone they just met.