Here's to you, Mrs. Robinsons of Dartmouth -- '12 boys love you more than you could know. And don't pretend like you haven't noticed a freshmen boy or two; you remember those new swimming recruits at the Toga Party at Heorot, or how about that super-cute '12 boy who writes for The Mirror? Well, even if the latter hasn't happened (yet), it doesn't change the fact that in this crazy little town called Hanover, cougars are out on the prowl and freshmen boys are hot on their trail.
Now you may be asking yourself, "Gosh darn it, Chris, why should a freshman fella' waste his time trying to canoodle with a senior gal?" Oh, how foolish your questions can be. Let me begin by stating that I am, by no means, a master of the art of the heart, but I do consider myself a fairly observant lad. And I've come to a few conclusions that should encourage even the most timid freshmen gent to chase the dream of taming a cougar.
I think it is prudent to first consider a pesky problem that persistently plagues many '12 boys. Boyfriends. Yes, it seems that on move-in day way back in September, '12 girls arrived with a fresh pair of trendy boots (to "get them through the first time they'll ever see snow ... OMG!"), a photo montage of high school best friends to hang above the bureau and a boyfriend on speed dial, as if to say once and for all "Hi, let's be friends ... platonic high-five anyone?" Of course, there are those freshmen fellows who try to wait it out in the friend-zone, eager for the day when friendship leads to romance. But the true gentleman, the "baller," if you will, seeks other options.
So why not choose to pursue the population on campus so fed up with men, so disgusted at the idea of "love," so cynical about the possibility of a meaningful relationship at Dartmouth that they would actually consider some of the boys from their DOC Trip to be worthy sleeping bag partners? That's right -- why not choose a senior woman?
After all, the thing about a senior woman is that she is a senior woman. Oh, maybe not the kind of senior woman that gets a discount at the movie theaters, or dyes her hair a bluish shade of white, but more mature than a freshman girl nonetheless. Like a fine bag of Franzia, the class, charm and beauty of a woman can only be appreciated with time. Only the bright, innocent eyes of a "bushy-tailed, eager-beaver freshman" can detect the soft vulnerability that hides below the surface of a senior woman -- forever binding the kindred spirits of two star-crossed lovers. Or maybe it's the fact that senior girls and freshmen boys share the same demographic of "getting the least amount of ass." Simply put, freshman-senior hook-ups can be affairs of convenience for both of the involved parties, as freshman boys are on the way up the fabled Dartmouth X-Factor, while senior women are (and this pains me to say) on the way down. A little "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," if you catch my drift.
But what is the real intrigue of a senior woman? What makes pursuing a cougar worth it? The answer, my friends, is a simple fact of dates. Now, as a child of 1990, the year 1987 seems as mysterious as the Zuba Pants and Lycra leggings that were so prevalent in that bygone era -- and these elusive women of 1987 have a similarly enigmatic air. Yet, perhaps those horrendous Lycra pants have never actually gone out of style. Sure, nowadays we may wear trendier, maybe even tighter, jeans, but do we not also don "flair" -- an outfit comprised mainly of brightly colored 1980s elastic? I guess what this terrible metaphor expresses is the simple fact that a bit of mystery can be fun, and such mystery will always have an appeal for curious young lads.
So on this All Hallows Eve, keep a sharp eye out in those dim fraternity basements, for that older girl in the kitty-cat costume just may be a cougar waiting to pounce. Hi, '09 girls.
