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In a world where the East Wheelock walls are way too thin, and hung-over breakfasts are spent talking at length about hours-old hook ups, one man comes to an engorging conclusion: Dartmouth students are having sex.

However, his future darkens as he shortly arrives at a second, disappointing conclusion: not all Dartmouth students are having sex.

Due to the plethora of Sex Ed literature diffused throughout campuses nationwide, it is fair to assume that sexual intercourse is practiced on extra long twin beds and common room futons from universities in Portland, Oregon to those in Portland, Maine. Obviously, this is not a criterion among American college students.

Sexual education has long become a staple at college campuses nationwide. The dissemination of information on the previously taboo subject has increased over the years, and numerous universities have taken the lead in providing a forum for discussions about sex. Take Harvard, for example.

Enrolled students on the Cambridge campus recognize Harvard’s ability to foster open discussion about S-E-X. To some, it may seem almost too open; Dartmouth seems to pale in comparison. UGAs offering free condoms? Try free lube. Sex columns in the Mirror and Free Press? How about H-Bomb, a student run porn magazine. Rocky Horror? Don’t get the Crimson started. Harvard seems to be the ying to Dartmouth’s yang, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue to our Gap Catalog, the Internet to our Baywatch.

In steps the True Love Revolution. Founded in June 2006 by two seniors (who are coincidentally dating each other), the student organization has less than a year under its (chastity?) belt. Since achieving official Harvard group status in September, it has sponsored two campaigns: one on Valentine’s Day and another this past April. According to their website, the True Love Revolution (TLR) is a “new, non-sectarian student group at Harvard College dedicated to the promotion of premarital sexual abstinence.” Mission statement aside, TLR is a movement dedicated to providing Harvard students with an alternative to their promiscuous peers. TLR believes firmly in abstinence until marriage.

There’s no reason to believe TLR’s existence isn’t justified. Obviously, remaining chaste has the notable advantages of avoiding pregnancy and numerous sexually transmitted diseases (a Brown student could have told you that). Their website’s FAQ goes into detail on these issues, for instance, describing how despite increasing condom usage among college students, Herpes Type 2 (genital) has increased 500% since 1980. Additionally, their reasons for abstinence cite numerous studies involving the emotional impact of premarital sex on identity, personality, and self-esteem. Though the facts seem legitimate and can be checked on their annotated bibliography, their credibility is nevertheless shaky.

Characterized by a public image more idealist than realist, a revolution more Dance Dance than Bolshevik, TLR remains underreported and generally unannounced on the Crimson campus. Despite its best efforts and growing national publicity, TLR’s fan base remains small. Members number themselves between 50 and 90. These paltry numbers may best echo the general sentiment among young adults in Cambridge. It seems that abstinence is deemed a dying cause for a revolution nowadays, when even many “virgin” adolescents will regularly engage in oral sex or anal intercourse.

TLR also suffers from an image problem. Peers portray them as prudes. Many of co-founder Justin Murray’s friends have openly mocked him and the organization, providing graphic narratives of their personal sexual encounters in his presence. Much of the media describes the movement as attention-seeking. TLR has even found detractors in the feminist community, who have criticized TLR as devaluing women by according virginity with purity or goodness.

The distinctiveness of the organization is questionable as well. What makes TLR any different than other abstinence-based student groups on campuses such as University of Minnesota? Princeton and MIT each had secular abstinence-based organizations before Harvard. Perhaps it is the Harvard name that has garnered so much press coverage over an issue that has been expressed elsewhere.

Does Harvard’s inclusion in this issue signify a growing trend within the Ivy League? Will Hanover have its own TLR?

Many argue it is an issue not of if but when will it happen. Towards the end of winter term ‘07, two Dartmouth students engaged in an op-ed argument in the Daily D about the perversion—and commonality—of love, sex, and romance on campus. Granted, it may very well be that the Big Green will find its own COSO-sponsored version someday. Thus, TLR’s existence should neither bring angst amongst the sexually active nor relief amongst those seeking an end to out-of-wedlock sex.

At root, TLR is worthy of praise. Pardoning the group’s tardiness, it is finally providing the Crimson with structured options. And like most issues, abstinence rests on choice. Choosing to engage (or not) in sexual intercourse is a personal decision and should be supported in either case. TLR ensures this equity of sexual options, despite representing a small minority. Harvard, or any institution of higher learning, fails its student body when it fails to provide all viable choices: academic, athletic, or social. Harvard’s True Love Revolution shouldn’t be disappointed as merely a blip on the radar screen among the contemporary social spheres of sexual education. Instead, it should be proud that the student body is allowed to see the entire radar screen and every blip on it.