VC Reporter hypothetically “understands” relationships

In between not writing an important paper, spending time as Iggy Azalea minus the cool hair and personality, and fielding questions about the baseball sized bruise on my arm, I’ve become frustrated. Not about any of the aforementioned topics, but about the status of relationships at Vassar. People here are so hip to “social constructs,” the mere mention of: “so what are we doing exactly?” to your hookup can induce severe anxiety. Conversations like: “I’m not a fan of the patriarchy,” can lead to the response: “Valid point, but can I tell my student fellow you’re my girlfriend?”

Let’s avoid this uncomfortable and socially inept type of conversation. Instead, I’ll field some questions from pals addressing relationship debacles they may or may not have asked me about over Happy Hour at Babycakes, and we’ll see what shakes out.

“I want week-day sex from my ‘special friend.’ Is that so much to ask?”

Um, yes. This is too much to ask. He’s got five classes and a thesis and he wants to join the Axies because Aidan’s so hot right now and no one’s cleaned their dishes in his Bro House TH in 45 days and he’s thinking he might want another pumpkin scone from React to Film, so…  Oh, you mean sex on the week days? He is “totes down.” He thought you meant like, “weak” sex that lasts all day. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

“She says I’m too good looking for her but I don’t think so.”

Take off the Vassar goggles. People claim they don’t exist—but they are fooling themselves. When I attended Annapolis High School and wore Uggs and graphic tees, I never would have been attracted to a boy with a mostly shaved head but somehow still has a ponytail, who is a third of my weight and wears scarves ironically. Now, however, this is my ideal partner. Once you slip off the goggles, you might realize you are infinitely better looking than her. However, this should not prevent you from pursuing. She might be just the gal to close on that internship at Buzzfeed.

“He told me he has a fatalistic view of relationships. Can I call him my boyfriend?”

NO. He will head for the hills. Keep it casual. So casual, in fact, that you will probably stop seeing him, forget he attends Vassar, and discover two months later that he is engaged—thus proving he doesn’t have a fatalistic view of relationships, he has a fatalistic view of your relationship. Sorry if that burns. Need some butter?*

“We met at a Hip Hop 101 party but he/she is 17.”

Hmm, statutory. Not something I will explicitly encourage. Instead, use the following equation: how recently did he/she get their braces off? Find a picture of them with said braces. Use that as ammunition until they are no longer jailbait.

If you are experiencing none of the previous debacles but are concerned with how to “label” your current biddy, let’s make one thing clear. Not discussing “what” you crazy kids are participating is the least ideal. Let’s look at the following situation:

Say you’re at a party. Say you are dressed to the nines as Iggy Azalea because a friend of yours is hosting a “rapper-themed” party. Say you are feeling hella good about your choice of leotard because that s**t makes you feel TIGHT. Say you are overwhelmed with the influx of Freshmen/Sophomore biddies who may or may not be dressed up for the party, you honestly can’t tell because of the dearth of stylistic impulses in the underclassmen.** Say that the kid you’ve slept in a bed with for seven days straight shows up in a swell windbreaker. Say he takes your hand, because that’s just “the kind of guy he is.” Say your dear friend, the host, comes and asks, “Who’s this?” “This is…” you begin. Your mouth gapes. You stare at the floor. The kid starts blushing. Half the population of a room shotgun a beer in the time it takes for you to articulate: “…Antonio.”***

Cut To: DEMISE OF RELATIONSHIP.

Don’t make my mistake, little biddies. Open up a healthy dialogue with you and your special someone(s). Toe the uncomfortable line of not being “friends.” Feel free to use my (universally appropriate) opening line: “So…frisbee, huh?”

 

*Contrary to popular opinion, I have heard that butter soothes a deep burn in a way that ice cannot. You’re welcome.

**This experience obviously is not my own because I have felt stylish approximately zero times and am willing to bet 10/10 freshmen have cooler pants than I do.

***Antonio Humphrey, coincidentally on the frisbee team, coincidentally single (unconfirmed). I apologize for this defamation of character as Antonio would never attend a TH party in a windbreaker.

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