The Eighth Page

A Little Girl’s Journey for Love

Recently, I got an email from the two Features Associate Editors that confirmed my worst fears. It read, “Jess, try to be more funny-haha than funny-pass me another mint julep, Jeeves.” Simply stated, I just wasn’t bling-bling enough. In a world of Ja-Rule and Jay-Z wannabes, I was taking lessons from, well, Mr. Rogers [Editor’s Note: the Mr. Make-believe guy, not the guy in the history department or the other guy in the science department]. This could naturally only mean two things: 1) I was a hopeless loser 2) I would never find a date for the Blue and Silver. Horrified, I turned to Julie Min ’05, who was conveniently standing over my shoulder, snickering. “Julie” I begged. “Tell me I’m not a loser. Tell me that somewhere, out there, I’m gonna find a date for the most important event of the year.” “No, of course you’re not a loser,” she assured me, “Now zip up your fly and let’s finish those stoichiometry problems.” But still, I was not content. Now I had a mission: to go undercover and see if the fated Features advice had some truth. Decked out in the latest Fubu garb, glittering with ice, hot CVS sunglasses, and a visor artfully arranged sideways, I was ready to go. Spotting a couple of potentials innocently making their way to the Ryley Room, I called them out. “Yeah, you know you want me, fo sho. I’m hella gangsta, real chill, yo. I’m just Jessie from the Bronx, I know where I came from. Holla!” [Editor’s Note: Now you’re getting the hang of it.] Clothes: check. Lingo: check. Attitude: check. Success? Um, whoops. Three pieces of ruined gangsta-wear later, I was back where I started from. If getting dates for the B&S was a class, I’d be hovering between a 1 and a 2. And just as I started to relent to Jane Waterfall’s ’05 idea of starting a nonprofit Get-Jess-a-Date Foundation, it happened – something truly amazing that gives hope to girls everywhere. But before I tell you, let me ask you something. Okay ladies, pop quiz: it’s a week before the Blue and Silver and you don’t have a date. What do you do? Well, whatever you answer, never fear. To quote Natalie McGarry ’05: “See, the way I figure, if freak shows in the circus can find a date, so can I.” Good thinking, Nat. Here, provided in this very article, I have the answers to all your questions. That miracle that I witnessed? It was a conversation between an unnamed lower girl and senior guy. It was the most perfect, “get-a-guy-to-take-you-to-dance” chat ever. I was personally invigorated; the kind that makes you want to pump a fist and yell, “Hellz Yeeeuh!” or something. So we’ll go through the exact conversation, with special edition Schuster commentary. Here it goes. Blonde-haired giggly-looking girl: Sooo, can you believe that the Blue and Silver is like, almost a week away! (Silence.) Muscle-bound extremely tall guy: Uhhhh, yeah? So? BG (casually leaning a little closer): Oh, well I hear there’s a lot of food and stuff. It’s gonna be awesome. (Note: notice she used “food” for description. Although this may or may not be true, excellent idea. You don’t want to bring in messy things like “formal” and “dancing.” MG (in new appreciation): Oh. BG: Yeah, so anyways I really want to go, but there’s like, no-one to go with. (Hopefully, your guy will be a smart, sensitive, perceptive guy who catches on quickly and takes this opportunity to ask you to the dance. Alas, this particular example did not fall into that category. Never fear. This gal still had an ace up her sleeve.) BG (continuing): Hey, weren’t we talking about how we should hang out more last weekend? We should go. MG (confused): What- like together?? BG: It’ll be sooo chill. I mean, like, the entire campus is going. And we can always ditch if it gets boring, ya know? (Rule to live by: if they protest, just keep on talking. Desperation leaves no room for shyness). MG: I guess, but- BG (triumphant, success is sweet): Super! Okay, come stop by my dorm at like, nine, okay? See ya later! MG: Uh, okay. (At this point you might want to pat his head for a job well done, and give him a biscuit or something). Can you now see the pure genius of this talk? It was simple. It was effective. It was sweet. Some, though, were a little more skeptical. Several responses include: – Jess, I always knew you was wack, but now I know youse craaazy. – What the hell’s the Blue and Silver? But pay no mind to the critics. They’re just jealous the guys will be swarming in hordes around yours truly. So the next time you and that hottie from Taylor are chatting, that’s your cue. Run a sexy hand through your hair, flash those pearly whites, and strut your stuff. You’ll be partying away on the dance floor before the sucker knows what happened. Word.