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For most students new to the Rochester area, it’s the harsh winter that’s most difficult to deal with. For me, a Rochester native, the most difficult season has always been the summer. I’ll admit, it’s a welcome relief from the bitter cold -— at first.

By September, however, I usually have a long list of reasons why I’d rather move to Siberia than endure another day of heat. Somewhere on that list, in more recent years, is the fact that having sex comfortably requires air conditioning, or a tub of ice. Without going into much detail, I’ll say that I’m fortunate enough to have air conditioning at my house. Of course, as you all know, such a thing cannot be boasted of the dorms at the UR.

September really marks the culmination of my frustration with the heat. Add that to the fact that I’m thrust into a building (on the third floor, no less) with zero climate control, and you have a recipe for exactly zero sex.

I’ve been polite enough not to pry for details, but when I bring this up among friends, there’s a general response that leads me to believe I’m not alone in this. Not too surprising. Under the best (read: coolest) conditions, sex is a sweaty, sticky, sultry affair. If it’s not, you’re probably doing it wrong.

But do it in 89 degree weather, and you’re asking for clinically severe levels of dehydration and a potential heat stroke. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, especially considering that people in places like Africa and Central America somehow manage to copulate (Magic? The will of genetics?), but still, it’s an uncomfortable experience.

Some people reading this are probably thinking: Yeah, but it’s totally worth it. If so, good for you, I guess. I always feel obliged to acknowledge the fact that some people will probably disagree with or somehow object to what I’m writing — it’s a compulsion of mine. However, if you are one of the people insisting that I just don’t appreciate sex enough and claiming you’d have sex under virtually any environmental condition, I have a theory or two about where you might be coming from.

Theory one: you’re single, or anxiously waiting for your significant other to “give it up,” so to speak. The first requires a bit of elaboration. You’re single and haven’t had sex in a while, or maybe ever, and really want it.

“The heat won’t stop me,” you say. “I’m too horny.” Fine. You’re young, virile (probably) and surrounded by more eligible partners than you ever will be again. It’s a fair argument.

The truth is, this topic applies much better to people in committed relationships, or at least people who are pretty sure they’ll still be able to have sex next week when the weather drops 20 degrees, which often happens in Rochester.

Case in point: when the idea for this article was born, it was almost 90 degrees and I was so hot that simple cuddling was reaching intolerability. Tonight, however, it’s a pleasant 60 degrees, and with my window open I’ll enjoy the warmth of both my boyfriend and a comforter when I sleep -— both of which I was forgoing last week.

Long story short: It’s easier to give into the heat and not have sex when you’re pretty much positive you’ll have the opportunity again next week.

Theory two: You’re drunk.

Bazarian is a member of

the class of 2013.

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