When I showed up to Admitted Students Day pre-freshman year, I took one look around and thought, “Wow, I’ve never seen so many attractive people in my entire life.” My mother had my future husband picked out before I unpacked my bed risers. This marked the beginning of, what I thought would be, a very exciting, boy-filled, college experience.
Fast-forward to today and reality has set in: Here I am, boyfriend-less, in a house full of coupled-up girlfriends. But you know what? I don’t hate it. I refuse to settle for the guy with the Mommy Issues (Read some Freud, Oedipus-man, you’re a psychologist’s dream), the Sports-Are-My-Life guy (I’m sorry, my fantasy has nothing to do with your football team), or the guido I saw pulling out of Beach Bum Tanning who uses way too much product in his blowout and has more perfectly shaped eyebrows than I do (Tom, Tyson and Marc, relax, I’m not talking about you … ).
Boys, get a clue – you go to school at one of Playboy’s Top 10 “Colleges With the Best-Looking Women.” We’re also intelligent, funny and an all-around great time, if I do say so myself.
I understand that you have more important things to think about (i.e. Yankees/Red Sox, Busch Light, etc.), but were your conversational skills lost during adolescence? After three years at this school, the female population learns to be grateful for anything that spans beyond “Hey, the keg is in the corner.” Extra points if you offer to fill our cup for us.
We’re living the Fairfield fairytale, but is chivalry really dead? Trust Fund Boys will brag about their new car all night (while we, half-listening, attempt to steer the conversation away from their “baby”) and then not even offer to drive us home in it. Even worse than this breed are the She-Males – those high maintenance guys who are prettier than we are, TiVo Oprah, and sleep with the South Beach Diet book on their night table. Is the other end of the spectrum really better though? Those guys don’t believe in deodorant or changing their sheets – ever – and think that licking a spoon clean is washing it.
If you have to subject yourself to any member of the male population at Fairfield, your best bet is a “Yah, Dude.” At least they’re always color-coordinated.
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