Every day as the Earth spins and the Utah Valley hums, hundreds of students choose to donate their plasma.

Getting stuck with a needle can’t be anyone’s favorite pass time. Why do they do it? In a Qualtrics survey conducted by the BYU Sociology Department, student donors were asked what really motivates them to sell their bodies.

Common trends in data presented two findings: students primarily donated because they were desperate for cash, or desperate for some form of human touch.

“I don’t know what their hiring criteria are, but I’d never have what it takes to be a Provo phlebotomist. They’re all so hot it’s disgusting,” said an anonymous respondent.

“Ever since Stacy and I broke up I’ve just needed someone to hold onto my arm, look me in the eyes, and tell me that the pain will only last a few seconds,” said another.

Upon further investigation, the Alternate Universe found that all phlebotomists hired at the Grifols Telecrisis Plasma Donation center have to be “at least a 9” to even get an interview.

It’s not hard to imagine that young pre-med students with sharp intellect, wit, and needles could attract more than the average crowd. This sort of business tactic is age-old and common in Provo. Utah Hooters, a restaurant whose servers are all beautiful, polite young women who will listen to your mission stories, is a prime example.

All in all, this insightful survey shed light on one of the valley’s greatest mysteries. It’s all bleeding arms and bleeding love in Provo.