This past weekend, three of my closest friends and I went to a sex museum in NYC. For scholarly reasons.
No, really.
Allow me to explain.
Although I was an English major in college, I was an “everything else” minor. I took random classes in nearly every discipline, from math to chemistry to fine art, and although I loved my major, some of these random classes ended up being some of my favorites. One such class was a Philosophy course called Sexual Ethics.
I took the class with the same three friends I was with this weekend (one of whom was a Philosophy major and encouraged us to take the class because of her love of the professor who taught it*). Sexual Ethics was one of the best classes I took all four years of my undergraduate career, not just for the ample quotes it provided my inner twelve-year-old boy to snicker at, but because it was a legitimately fascinating, difficult, scholarly course that taught me to think in a different way about people, gender, relationships, the law and life.
But it’s my bestie Tait who provides what is probably my favorite memory of the class. Never one to waste ink or page space, Tait simply wrote “sex” in her planner every Tuesday and Thursday along with the other classes she was taking that semester. One day in a sorority chapter meeting, Mary Mitchell Williams saw Tait flipping through her planner, leaned over and whispered, “Do you schedule sex?!”
At Millsaps, I guess you never know.
* Who happens to be bald, gay and a complete genius.
this class was amazing and had proved the test of time seeing how we paid $15 to go to a sex museum in honor of it (though we clearly already knew EVERYTHING) AND we talked about it in a completely unrelated convo a week later. I miss these sort of classes. Oh Millsaps...
ReplyDelete