It’s four in the morning. I’m beyond drunk and the girl in my bed is sound asleep. Sounds like the perfect start to a sex column — so here come some words of wisdom straight from the horse’s mouth, or maybe the horse’s ass, but probably the ass’s mouth.

You can’t call dibs on a girl but you can call fives. “Shotgun” works the exact same way on female anatomy parts when about to embark on a threesome as it does on car seats (“Shotgun anus!”). Don’t expect to be your partner’s first partner of the night. And don’t try to convince yourself that your partner’s ten-minute break from beer pong wasn’t an excuse to go boot and rally — but to come hook up with you. Some swishes with water and some Orbit can make even the dirtiest of mouths clean … apparently.

Welcome to Cornell. This isn’t your daddy’s daddy’s daddy’s Ivy League anymore. We don’t wear suits to classes; we don’t wear condoms to bed (yes we do). We’ve been desensitized. People were outraged in 1996 when Playboy came to Cornell to shoot its “Women of the Ivy League” (on a couch that I have had sex on! Woo-woo!). Now we accept Vinnie Chase banging hotties with no protection every Sunday on HBO.

Unlike Asher Roth, I can tell you what I learned from school. As much as they’re pushed upon us in free Ziploc bags from Gannett, complete with miniature bottles of lube destined for the genitals of overly-horny, wet-as-the-Mississippi 18-21 year old girls, Lifestyles are bound to break more than a Math 1920 curve in a class full of high school prodigies. The only way to get through the cold winter here is with a warm body … or two. And the only thing smoother than your pick-up, “How much does a polar bear weigh?” (Answer: enough to break the ice) is Keystone Light, the greatest social lubricant since the invention of language.

This is Cornell. The Princeton Review’s Best 357 Colleges (I’m glad we’re on such an exclusive list) says, “frats and sororities dominate the social scene,” “hard liquor is popular” and that “the sex column should be read as religiously as the Koran.” No, really. If you don’t believe me, buy a copy — of the Princeton Review, not the Koran. It’ll be the best investment since that gym membership complete with Lindseth Rock-climbing Pass. Anyway, now that you’re here, at least kick off your shoes, unzip your pants, relax and let your inner narrative, naturally spoken in your native Long Island accent, tell you what you should expect to get for a $45,000-plus education far above Cayuga’s Waters — or if you’re a girl into that kind of thing a couple inches below a Cayuga’s Waiter.

Do the math. Or better yet, get an Engineer with a TI-89 Platinum to do it for you. There are a lot of ways to justify your $45,000 Cornell education. A great GPA that leads to a greater job can make you forget those costs faster than that really fizzy drink you took from that guy at the Rho Phi (get it … roofie?) fraternity.

Or you can take that $45,000 and see what you need to break even. At $14 a case you’d have to drink 21,000 Keystone Lights at those frat parties you attend. Or you can take the Eliot Spitzer route and pay $7,500 a pop to sleep with six women over the course of the school year (this is a sex column, so I recommend this). There are a lot of options to justify your tuition, but in the end it’s the life experiences — especially the sex experiences — that make Cornell the literal bang for its buck. After all, you leave here with only a piece of paper and some memories.

I’ve been to NYU, Binghamton, Oneonta, Oswego, R.I.T., University of Toronto, among others. I’ve hooked up with girls at several of these (and for the record, “hook up” means dick in a hole … “making out” is not “hooking up,” it is making out). Sunday to Wednesday, Cornell is what it looks like on paper: nerdy kids that are more likely to have an answer to what their Patronus would look like, than to where the clitoris is.

But from Thursday to Sunday, Cornell is a totally new beast. A beast where a little bit of Beast and a beat from Akon will spread labia like Gannett projects H1N1 to across campus. Smart, attractive women are out and about on campus, waiting for that cute guy in their Intro Spanish class to step up and make their vida loca. Maybe they’re not the horniest, maybe they’re not the choosiest, but Cornell girls take their time on the Hill seriously — from their classes during the week to their drinking on the weekends to the slow, sensual lovemaking that occurs under candlelight each and every evening. And even if that’s not exactly what happens, sex, even on dirty sheets with a spectator roommate, is on their minds. And believe me, guys always want it.

So forget that 8:40 class if it means getting down low with that girl from Donlon. Or take a girl out to Just a Taste (best date spot in Ithaca) instead of Nasties if you’re looking to get some BRFs (Big Red Fuc… you can figure that one out). Make sure the adage, “college years are the best years of your life” rings true and hail to thee our Alma Mater. Thanks for giving us more than an education and hopefully not any STIs. Four (or so) years of Cornell and you can do anything ... er ... anyone … er ... any person (any study) anywhere.

Jeff K. is a senior in the College of Engineering. He may be reached, for sexual encounters or otherwise, at jeffk@cornellsun.com. Come Inside appears alternate Thursdays this semester.