Spring sucks. Spring is by far the worst season. It is the only season during which students at American high schools and universities are given an entire week off for no ascertainable reason besides the preservation of their own sanity. Spring has a paltry few redeeming qualities, such as the cabin fever-breaking madness of the NCAA tournament.

It is easy to go mad in spring. If seasons were sluts, spring would be a cocktease. Spring might rub your inner thigh during one perfect weekend, but the second you get to the Terrace, she’ll button her shirt back up and give you snow the morning after Mifflin.

Ah, but summer … summer puts out. The birds and the bees have sex in spring. Human beings have sex in the summer.

Why is summer so sexy? “The weather is hot and the girls are wearing less,” says Will Smith. “It’s like the summer’s a natural aphrodisiac.” Isn’t that a little simplistic?

Summer is sexy because it is sensual. People confuse being “sensual” with being “sexual.” Sensual is about the senses. Of course, the senses are vital to any kind of sex.

In the summer there is more to sense. There is more color in nature (and, yes, girls in short skirts), so there is more to look at. Higher air temperature results in faster moving sound, so in the summer you literally hear more.

As for taste, there are oranges, peaches, pears, plums. An old friend could describe eating a peach as an almost sexual experience. So soft and sweet, warm, juices dripping … mmm … I’m sorry, what were we talking about?

Summer is sexy because it is hot. When is “hot” ever a bad thing? “That girl is hot,” “that new Beastie Boys track is hot,” or “your new shirt is hot.” Hot in here. Hot is good.

Like an Indy car racer knowing his tires need to be hot to go fast, know that summer is the hot tire that can take a sexual situation 0-60 in four seconds flat. In 90-degree weather, people can get to “hot and bothered” after about only a few minutes of making out.

There is something primordial about those oppressively hot days when the humidity is way past a sticky 75. Everything feels a little dirty, un-sterile. It’s like somebody could get pregnant just by walking around.

And, yes, of course people will be wearing much less clothing.

“One of my coworkers said that those really, really short skirts are going to be the hot thing all summer,” my roommate said. “I was like, ‘Oh darn.'”

Summer is sexy because there is far less to worry about. Every student at the University of Wisconsin is stressed senseless with finals starting just four days from now. But the promise of a happy-go-lucky summer hangs just around the corner, like the promise of opportunity for the immigrant working class.

Sound advice for anyone having relationship problems at this point in the school year: “Relax. Everybody’s stressed right now, and sometimes you take it out on each other. But in another week it will be summer, and things will be chill.”

Summer is sexy because you can loaf in the grass, like Walt Whitman suggests in one of the sexiest passages of poetry ever written.

“I mind how once we lay, such a transparent summer morning; / How you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turn’d over upon me, / And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, / And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.”

I’m not really sure what’s going on there, but it sounds pretty kinky.

Everyone enjoy the summer. As Prince says “Sex in the summer, gettin’ it on.” And as James Brown says, “Stay on the scene, like a sex machine.”