It’s almost that time of year, Gauchos. The clouds part, the cerulean sky smiles and shirtless skateboarders run down campus pedestrians with a little extra rigor in their roll. Springtime is near!

So, why all the glee? One word: Twitterpation. Co-eds are so sprung on each other that lust oozes out of their pores. And with the weather finally permitting, they will stake their horny claim on every surface of I.V. – the beach, the park and the extra-wide sidewalks on Pardall Road.

But not you.

You watch your fellow Gauchos leave parties, hand-in-hand, ready to embark on a journey to Ecstasy Town: Population two. But you, well, you’ve been on a six-month lockdown in Dry Spell Town with your Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food and late-night “Dawson’s Creek” re-runs. Sprawled on the sofa in your Snuggie and bunny slippers, you wonder how even a whiny, overanalyzing, pedantic little snot like Dawson is getting laid, and you, the most badass person you and Billy Mays know, are not.

Buck up, friend; we’re all bound to suffer a drought at one time or another. I consider it the sex gods’ way of giving us a little bodily recuperation, while serving up a potent dose of batshit insanity to help us appreciate sex when we do have it. While you’re waiting it out, here are some activities that can soothe the cold sweats and shivers of your sexless nights.

Find porn that keeps on giving. Good porn can be your sun in the morning and your moon at night – it can consistently get your gun, like few flesh-and-blood partners can. Light a few candles, put the sock on the door, and curl up to your moans-in-a-box. Score if the star of the show looks like your History 17B TA! It may help you pay more attention in class. You’ll hang on her every word. You’ll watch how she fingers through the textbook pages, how she falls out of her shirt a bit as she bends over to pick up a pen, how she rubs chalk dust on her quivering chest as she brushes her luscious locks away… you know what? Better skip the porn.

Exercise! The gym is a great way to relieve pent-up frustration. Pound out some cardio on the treadmill, giving your heart the warm-up and cool-down it otherwise enjoys in a good romp. The energy expulsion and subsequent endorphin release should quiet your urges for at least a few hours. What’s more, you’re doin’ a little self-improvement! Take cues from others doing the same. Note the sweat beading on their collarbones, dripping and cascading off pectorals and landing in the crevices of rippling abs. Watch bosoms gasp for air. Watch ample gluts thrust forth on their giant medicine balls, squeezing, releasing, squeezing, releasing… actually, let’s steer clear of the gym.

Dive headfirst into a useful activity that is completely sensuality-free! Since your dry spell has left you with so many free hours, why not invest in your green future by taking a permaculture course at SBCC? Learn the holistic method of creating sustainable culture and growing delicious food. The first week, they’ll teach you to drive that bulb deep into the bed. You’ll really shove it in as far as it’ll go. Pat the soil in, and smack it hard if it’s not cooperating; it’s bad, bad soil. When things get messy, your hoe can take over. Remember that your hoe is most useful when it’s stroked gently in a circular motion, though sometimes you just need to get rough and rip it in hard. The faster, and faster, and faster you drive that hoe, the better off that hoe… Ya know? Maybe permaculture’s not for you, after all.

In all seriousness, the true remedy to your dry-spell blues is to simply remember where sex falls into the big scheme of things. Though the future may seem bleak, I’m more than willing to bet you will make sweet love again. In the meantime, why not focus your energies on a greater good? The seminary’s got an opening, I hear.