Okay. This is how I’m going to start this off. Champlain is fucking small. It is tiny. Microscopic, even. There are 608 individuals in the senior class and 426 of them are males. Is that creepy of me to have taken the time and found that number? Maybe. Who cares? Fuck you.

Either way, Champlain is fucking small and that means there are only so many boys you are willing to hook up with.

Now, I understand not everyone is interested in boys ­– you can be interested in anyone you want ­– but I am speaking from experience so in the case of this article, I will be talking about heterosexual female-male sexual interactions. Please feel free to fill in the blank with whatever girl, boy, human, etc., you are currently fantasizing about. Treat this like a Mad Lib.  It will be fun.

So a while ago, I was at this party. And at this party there was this boy. And at this party this boy, whom I used to hook up with, said to me, “I don’t mean to pry, but do you ever feel awkward when you’re in the same room as a lot of people that you’ve hooked up with?”

And I told him that no, I didn’t find it awkward.

And then he told me that he found it, like, really super fucking awkward.

Then I just sort of stood there and blinked at him a lot and then he said, “But sometimes it’s, like, me and four other guys just sitting around making small talk with you, and in the back of our minds we all know that we’ve all hooked up with you. Don’t you ever think about that, all the guys you’ve hooked up who know each other?”

Yeah, dude, I’ve thought about it. Sometimes I’m in class, or at the gym, or just hanging out at my friend’s house, and I look around and realize I’ve hooked up with half the guys in the room. But it’s not like I’m a slut or anything. Because I’m not. I can count the number of guys I’ve slept with on two hands. I don’t even need to use my toes. And even if I did need my fucking toes, who cares? That’s not relevant. The reason I’ve hooked up with so many guys who know each other is because Champlain is fucking small and there are only so many boys you are willing to hook up with.

When you decide you are willing to hook up with someone, there are essentially five categories you can choose from:

• baggy-pant ski and ride boys
• scruffy man-bun boys who always skip class to smoke a butt in the courtyard
• rich douchebag boys
• hipster writer boys who drink a lot of coffee
• and gamer boys (complete with their own subcategories)

Most of us are usually attracted to one category more than the other, which is totally fine. Any and all categories are totally fine. But here’s what ends up happening. You pick a category, you pick a boy, you get really drunk at a party, you hookup with said boy, then you get bored of that boy and you repeat the process with a new boy. And because Champlain is fucking small and there are only so many boys you are willing to hook up with, odds are when you pick a new boy, get really drunk, and hookup with him at a party, last week’s boy will be standing across the room either watching you, ignoring you, or hooking up with someone else.

If by some miracle they aren’t at the same sweaty house party as you and you think you’re in the clear, sorry. You’re probably not. Someone in their social circle is across the room, watching you chat up a new scruffy dude, and that’s it. It’s all over. The entire Champlain student body might as well be added to that goddam email chain your mom is in with your extended family where she shares every bit of embarrassing, personal information about you without your permission.

The most ironic part about all of this is that I’ve been in long-term relationships for most of my college career. There have only been eight months over the past four years that I’ve been single and for some fucking reason, I’m still dealing with boys at parties asking me about my sex life. This particular boy, who “didn’t mean to pry”, but was totally prying, also asked me what happened between my most recent ex-boyfriend and me. All I could tell him was that I didn’t really know what happened because I never received any kind of explanation. Then I politely excused myself and left that goddam stupid party with someone else.

What I’ve learned between now and then is, when your boyfriend breaks up with you and doesn’t tell you why, you shouldn’t question what you could have done differently and you shouldn’t lose sleep over what you said that one night you two fought back in June.

Chances are, you’re not the only reason he ended things and chances are you’re better off without him. Chances are you’re better off by yourself. You don’t need to go out and find a new boy right away. But if you do, maybe try to hit up UVM.