After recently breaking up with my boyfriend of almost two years, I find myself dreading this school year, my last at NU.

No, it’s not the job search or the annoyingly bubbly freshman girls I’ll have to wait behind for the keg at off-campus parties. Quite honestly, I’m scared shitless at the prospect of suffering through a year of celibacy.

No naked sleepovers. No midday, class-skipping sex. Not even a post-Deuce oral session. Nothing.

Think it’s ridiculous to predict that I won’t get laid during my senior year of college? As many experienced NU women know all too well, it’s probably the truth.

Why? Because we go to NU. Unless you’ve slept through your procreating years here, I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from.

LOTS OF STUDENTS, FEW POSSIBILITIES

The math is simple: We have about 8,000 undergrads on this campus, but unfortunately 7,500 never leave the library.

That leaves a pretty small pool of students with a social life. And you’ve seen them out thousands of times before. If you haven’t already gone home with them, chances are slim that you’re suddenly going to find them hot. (Then again, we all get horny enough to re-judge people by “Northwestern standards” - a mix of beer goggles and desperation.)

Of course, freshman year is a totally different story. Everyone is prowling to find someone to take back to Bobb or Allison so they can start carving notches into their headboards. Some find meaningful relationships or at least a steady hookup to keep their surging hormones at bay. Others get by with enough Long Island iced teas and tequila shots to wake up in the bed of someone whose name, year or Greek house they can’t quite recollect.

As a freshman, the options to get play are wide open. God love ‘em.

Sophomore guys begin Fall Quarter with a renewed determination to find a decent piece of ass. They line the walls of New Student Week parties, scrutinizing any new prey that crosses their paths. Forget about getting attention if you’re a former frosh. These vultures are looking solely at the pre-freshman 15 set: new meat, ready and willing.

For some reason, sophomore guys pull it off year after year. No longer labeled immature and naïve, they can finally pull rank with younguns who are attracted to Greek letters like Prof. Bailey is to undergraduates.

FROM ORGASM TO WHOPPERGASM

Sophomore girls, on the other hand, tend to veer their attention away from hooking up and instead concentrate on getting fucked up. Who needs men when you’re in the North Shore Beirut League or can suck down a 2-foot bong with the best of them?

Make it to junior year, and you can escape the asexual environment of NU to gallivant in some foreign country where people actually have hormones. People who choose to get off on each other instead of their 300-page coursepacks.

The juniors who remain in Evanston go to parties and bars in hopes that a new fuck who they’ve never seen before will appear out of thin air. Yeah, right.

Eventually, juniors lose steam in their sex drive and turn to substances to alleviate the lack of play in their lives. Instead of ending the night in orgasm, they get drunk and stoned, then climax with a Whoppergasm at Burger King.

But enough about them. Back to me and my lack of potential senior-year sex: I fell into the freshman-sophomore-junior-year trap. Alcohol and Whoppers always have been a part of my daily diet, followed (or preceded) by my close friend, Mary Jane.

Now, I’m stuck. I’ve cast too many guys into my “just friends” pool, leaving no “I want your sex” men swimming in the sea.

If I get ass this year, I’ll let you know. If not, I will take comfort in this lesson I’ve learned over the years: It’s foolish to judge your sexual prowess and attractiveness by the track record you’ve had at NU.

If you do, you’ll feel more ashamed than those sexless shmucks in the library.

Sarah wants to live vicariously through your sex life. E-mail her at s-eberle@northwestern.edu