I Know You�re Whacking Off in the Stack Next to Mine

by Elissa Friedman

Yes, it is late, and the stacks are mostly empty. Perhaps you think that because I cannot see you, I cannot hear you. This is not the case. I know you�re whacking off in the stack next to mine.

Working quietly on my calculus problem set, I was distracted a few minutes ago by heavy breathing and a distinct �thupping� noise. I ignored it and continued with my calculations. A moment later, I was struck by the unfortunate realization of what was, in fact, taking place not two feet away. Horrified, I turned up the volume on my iPod, but I was unable to shake the visual.

Why in the name of God are you so turned on at 1:45am on the left side of the sixth floor stacks? Is it that you find enclosed spaces particularly erotic? Perhaps it�s the possibility that a passing librarian will fall under the spell of your throbbing manhood? I picture you, jeans around your ankles, constructing elaborate fantasies based on the initials scratched into the heating vents (for example, you calling RK for a good time while JT watches).

Don�t get me wrong: masturbation is normal. It�s your choice of location that I�m taking issue with. This is not your bed. This is not even your roommate�s bed. People are trying to study. If you�re feeling compelled to masturbate in public, let me suggest the Science Library, where there are far fewer people.

Sincerely,

Elissa Friedman

P.S. Please accept the packet of Kleenex I have thrown over the divider. You will find my number written on the back.