The Great Condom Crisis

I had considered responding to Dominique's last post and offering a male perspective on first-year hook-ups, but a more pressing matter has arisen: a situation so dire, so distressing, so very dramatic, I felt compelled to abandon all previous notions of appropriate post-topics to expatiate and expound upon this very singular issue. It is....The Great Condom Crisis of St. Olaf College.

Three of my close friends are JC's this year, and when I was hanging out in one of their rooms, they had a casanova resident stop by and shamelessly pose a perfectly normal question:
Where's the condom vending machine in this building?

To my dismay- nay, readers- to my absolute horror, my friend did two very repugnant things. First, he laughed awkwardly. And second, he said "I don't know, man."

First of all: don't laugh at the kid! He's pursuing one of man's most basic and noble of tasks: not only planning ahead in a responsible away, but doing so for an end-goal that is completely natural, and doing it in an open, unapologetic way. I sure wouldn't have asked my JC that question when I was a first year, mostly because I'd be afraid of whether they were going to judge me or lecture me or tell everyone in the hallway that I was so deluded as to think I'd get any action (okay, so I was a little bit below par my first year when it came to pursuing romance. I'll be the first to admit it.)

And secondly, not knowing where the condom vending machines are? As a JC, that's worse than not knowing where fire extinguishers are! You're told in training NOT to try to fight fires, but you sure as hell are supposed to give helpful information and protective guidance to your residents when they ask.

When I got home that night, I started wondering if I could name were condom vending machines were in various buildings. I'm nearly positive there aren't any in Buntrock, and I know for a fact that at one time last year the Larson condom vending machine, which is hidden away in a utility room on the first floor, was EMPTY. EMPTY, readers!!!

I don't really spend much time worrying about this fact, because I have a car and am able to keep pretty well stocked on whatever brand I like. However, I am deeply concerned that our campus has not dedicated itself a little bit more to providing plentiful, readily available, and visible options for protections in obvious or at least publicized locations in each res hall. First years and many others do not have cars, and I have heard (although never witnessed it myself) that at time the selection in the bookstore is meager in volume and falls short when it comes to providing a semblance of variety. So what is a student to do if they are actually brave enough to go to the bookstore and find their stock either too limiting or completely gone, and don't know where else to turn?

Many readers will balk at my tone and insist that proper sexual conduct can be planned in advance, and that people who want to buy condoms "right now" are just the skeazy men and women who are engaging in a one-time hookup. These readers should stop participating in any kind of sexual dialogue, and go back to lala land where they belong. Sex can "just happen" in consensual, long-term couples who finally decide the time is right, or couples that DID plan ahead have either run out of condoms or worse, the supply they have has broken or gotten old enough to be suspect. And sure, there are a respectable number of self-actualized and sexually active adults who make a decision at the last minute- Dominique being a great poster child. Whatever the motivation or situation, condoms should not be a hidden, detestable item lurking in some unsuspecting corner. They are, after all, the great noble tools standing between all of us and an alternate reality in which we all drop out of college to deliver our babies or deal with our AIDS.

What can you do? Simple. Find the condom vending machine in your dorm and e-mail olevillains@gmail.com, and I will put together a list of their locations and brands that are available so that in times of need, you aspiring young lovers don't need to go asking a janitor where the safety sleeves are.

Over and out,
Troy