OP-ED: I’m Not Fucking My Professor, But I Think I Should Be Allowed To

Look, I’m not fucking my professor. I never have and never will have any interest in fucking my professor. But I think it should be allowed if I wanted to.

Say, for example, my professor was really smart and hot and really liked me, and said I was the best student he’d ever had. Like, hypothetically, I should be allowed to go to office hours for some “one-on-one time” without the administration trying to butt in. It’s like, I’ve never met my professor for drinks at this little place on 13th and Lombard Street, free from the gaze of nosy students, and gone back to his gorgeous little flat in Center City afterward… but I feel like I should be allowed to if I wanted.

The immense overreach of the administration has gone too far. Why should I have to hide my relationship with my professor from anyone but his bitch wife? I mean, hypothetically. It just seems wrong for the Penn administration to get in the way of what we have. We, being the collective Penn community, of course.

I mean, even though I’ve totally never fucked my professor, I can understand the people who have. It’s like, college boys are so immature, and none of them know as much sensual poetry as my professor. They just don’t get me the way he does… is what some people who have fucked their professors probably are thinking, which I can understand if I try really hard to disassociate from my real life, where I’ve never gone away for a romantic weekend in Maine with my professor.