Being a senior on campus has its perks. You know the difference between the UC and the LC, you’ve discovered the Subway in the Law School and have figured out the low-traffic times at the gym. If you have a Y-chromosome you’re even better off: you now have a full four grades worth of women to choose from. And, despite the fact that you may be a cocky player, every one of them wants to hook up with you. Looks like it’s your lucky day-rather, year. But if you are female and a senior, you’re screwed. Or, more to the point, not. You are now the oldest: Guys your own age can act immature enough, and all the other males on campus are even younger.
Freshmen men. Or boys, I should say, since some of them will still qualify you for statutory rape in certain states. Ladies, I suggest you just get used to robbing the cradle, because every guy who hits on you for the next nine months will be younger than you. But he’ll probably lie about it.
Case in point: While sitting at Mynt the other night with three of my girlfriends and the two grad school guys we arrived with, I was approached by a younger-looking guy. His chosen opener: “Hey.so.how old are you?” How old am I? Well that sounds like the start of a titillating conversation. “Twenty-one,” I responded, since that is, in fact, my age. “Real 21 or your ID says 21?” was his next question. Gee, little man, you really know how to turn a girl on. “No, I’m 21,” I replied flatly. “Yeah, yeah, me too.I’m 21, too..” Suuure you are. Frankly, if you’re this obsessed with discussing age, you’re probably ashamed of your own. It’s the whole “Me thinketh thou protesteth too much” syndrome.
This Casanova and his friends proceeded to tell each of my friends they were a different age. Junior to one, senior to the other and one even threw in that he was 22. I know it’s the beginning of the school year, but are you that confused?
So why do freshmen guys lie about their age? Do they think we won’t find out? Do these froshies think we can’t just look them up on Facebook? Or that after four years we don’t know, at least vaguely, the names and faces of the men in our class? It’s not that big of a school. We’ve hunted down the eligible ones by now.
Does age even really matter? Nine times out of ten, the answer is no. If you’re sweet enough and cute enough, she probably won’t care that you’re not even old enough to vote.
So a word to the wise for freshmen guys-if you haven’t stopped reading this, crumpled the paper into a wad, and started composing an angry email to me about how I’m a chick-rock loving, man-hating,