Upon hearing the name of this event, most people imagine gentlemen in tuxedos with comb overs, ladies in ball gowns with long white gloves, music consisting of violins, a cello, and a piano, and some good, clean ballroom dancing. Maybe some champagne to keep it classy.

Well … that was far from the scene at the Fairfield University presidential mansion on Friday night. I walked into the “nautical themed” event and it made me sea sick. I could hardly believe the lack of self-control. The hormone level was higher than a seventh grade classroom at an all-boys school – and that goes for both boys and girls. The atmosphere was like mating season at the watering hole. People, three words: get a room.

Most of the boys there looked like an NFL coach after his team just won the superbowl and had an entire cooler of Gatorade dumped on his head. It looked like at some point in the night their Ralph Lauren button downs were actually buttoned and ties were knotted. Really, gentlemen, I wish you could comprehend that girls would find you much more attractive if you were actually in control.

Note for next year: free deodorant samples are a must. The smell was worse than sweaty gym socks.

Now for the ladies. OK, I can’t lie. I am all for tight clothes, high heels, and push-ups bras and I fully embrace the “got it, flaunt it” attitude. But, even I was surprised by the attire. I don’t know what happened to dressing up. Most of the girls dresses looked liked they were from baby gap or had a rough time in the dryer. Other girls were representing the look that I like to call the “Saran wrap dress,” which basically means it looked like they wrapped themselves in Saran wrap and added on some spiky 5 inch heels and a VS Bombshell bra.

Also, what has happened to dancing these days? I was just trying to dance and have a good time with my friends. Before I knew it, some dude came up behind me in American flag pants and I looked down to see scary hands wrapped around my waist. I love the patriotism, dude, but get your hands off me. I did not give you permission to touch me. Boys, since when do you think it is OK to just go up behind a girl without even asking? And then, five minutes later, flag pants strikes again on my friend standing right next to me.

The Presidential Ball is an event that has so much potential to be fun if people didn’t have to act like wild animals being let loose from a zoo. This dance is a chance to get dressed up and go have great night with your friends – not to get completely three sheets to the wind and starting grinding on poles or half the student population.

I found a sweeter night returning to my apartment and diving into a bowl of candy corn M&M’s and blasting some T-Swift than hanging out with a bunch of drunken sailors.

My advice for Prez Ball next year is, simply: self control. Leave room for the holy spirit. Goodbye and goodnight.

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