Spring Break: 130-something hours of pure collegiate freedom; seven days of sex, sun and drinks with little umbrellas; a week of string bikinis, bare-chested boys and bacchanalia-like partying; and yet another aspect of college that makes our parents sigh, shake their heads, haul out their checkbooks and secretly wish they were 21 again.

The requirements for a great spring break are simple: a hot destination and an even hotter bikini. Once you’ve got the tickets in hand and the bikini in a bag, add a pair of flip-flops, a bottle of Banana Boat tanning oil (and, in my pale-skinned case, lots of Aloe Vera) and a handful of travelers checks or mom and dad’s credit card and you’re more than guaranteed to have a wonderful time.

But while picking out a new bathing suit may seem the most daunting aspect of your spring break travel arrangements choosing between stripes or dots, boy shorts or barely-there thongs, and the oh-so-slimming black or wild, neon colors is most definitely a Herculean-like effort, which, even in the case of the most seasoned shopper, requires sifting through thousands of handkerchief-sized Lycra swatches strewn about the Filene’s juniors bathing suit department.

Yet while I always find it a challenge to choose between the utilitarian J.Crew mix-and-match bikini set and the tight, very padded, very little swatch of sparkles and string from Victoria’s Secret, my biggest hang up about spring break is not the bathing suit it is ‘the boy.’

That is, while the girls and I have proposed to party like rock stars in the dance clubs of the Bahamas, my boyfriend and his friends are committed to the cheap drinks and beautiful beaches of Cancun. And with us each committed to a different tropical island with entirely separate week-long parties, I’ve begun to wonder just how committed we are going to be to each other.

I’ve never really condoned cheating, but spring break seems like a separate, booze-soaked matter altogether…

First are the locations. ‘Derek’ and I will be on separate islands, in completely different time zones hell, in completely different countries. And we will each be entertaining separate groups of beautifully tanned, attractive college students in our respective collegiate paradises.

Second is the timing. Regardless of whether or not our relationship is serious, spring break accounts for mere seconds on the metaphorical time clock of college time. What if in 50 hypothetical years from now, right about the time ‘Derek’ and I celebrate our 45th wedding anniversary, I (with my figure long gone and my days spent washing dishes with dishtowels bigger than the bikinis I once wore) regret not taking full advantage of my week of beautiful men, hot sun and cheap mixed drinks?

And third is the overall experience. To assume everyone going on spring break is a committed bachelor or bachelorette is absurd. Would spring break itself even exist if everyone remained faithful to his or her significant other? Probably not. The dance clubs would close, the alcohol would stop flowing and instead of gyrating on bamboo-matted floors with Ivy-leaguers, everyone would probably sit around, sixth-grade dance style, wallow in loneliness and pass around pictures of their significant others. Topless dancing would be relegated to the strip clubs, and the producers of Girls Gone Wild would either go bankrupt or have to show a repeat this year.

Partaking in spring break and immersing oneself fully in the free love festivities is a secret duty of every respectable college student in a worldwide effort to preserve the sacredness of the spring break ritual. Admittedly however, to condone cheating, regardless of the situation (and regardless of how hot the guys might be), inevitably indicates a certain moral flexibility in one’s character.

Thus ladies, the decision up to us. From my viewpoint, every spring break reveler must select between the drunken advantages of a week spent wrapped in the arms of anonymous, good-looking men and this epithet of ‘moral flexibility;’ she must elect whether to cheat or not to cheat; she must decide whether a week of washboard abs outweighs fidelity; she must choose between guilt-free partying and the real-world of commitment; and, most importantly, she must determine whether or not she can get away with it.

With the time before spring break ticking down, ‘Derek’ and I and all the couples at Boston University, have some thinking to do.

At least, thank God, I’ve already bought my bikini.

Denise Spellman, a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences, is a former weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press.