In the bleak social tundra of winter term, it seems that only one event can bring real and genuine joy to the masses: The Blue and Silver Semi-Formal Dance. All across campus junior boys huddle en mass, refusing to ask any female in the entire school, out of pure fear. On the flip side of things, senior boys cluster together and neglect to ask girls out of plain laziness. However, one thing these misled boys have in common is their shared ineptitude at asking the sweet young ladies to the dance. The females of Andover catch a lot of flak for lackadaisically setting up dates for the Sadies. Nonetheless, no matter how bad the women’s actions seem, their inaction is nothing when compared to the boys’. Come on, at least girls usually ask in person. What I’m referring to is the dreaded AIM game. Though I’ve already discussed the ills of macking on AOL Instant Messenger in a previous article, the chaos of the Blue and Silver seems to take this already grave issue to near catastrophic levels. I firmly believe that AIM is the super deadly ninja that slayed the warrior of romance. Honestly, how can a girl take a date proposal, usually “R u gonna hit up the dance?”, when asked by “NitroDarkStar32” or “PABedWetter7”? I’m not saying that everybody needs to go all Dawson’s Creek and make some epic plea for love and affection with a Goo Goo Dolls soundtrack, but face-to-face conversation seems to work for me. Let’s run down how Smooth E gets his ask-on: first off, I would never ask a friend. Those girls know all your personal flaws and quite frankly, they have not gotten with you yet so it is probably not going to happen. For the real deal, you have to find that sweet lady with the certain intangible “X-factor.” The X-factor could reside anywhere in the young woman: the eyes, hips or voice. But regardless of where it is, the X-factor takes someone who’s merely hot and makes then an absolute incendiary device. Anyways, sorry about the macking-philosophy tangent. Let us get back to the advice at hand. Locate the appropriate single girl to take to the dance and proceed to initiate all your smooth-loverman weaponry. Make sure every stereo in the immediate vicinity is blasting Ginuwine “My Pony” (my signature jam) before you glide over to your target. After making with the smoothest talk this side of Cruel Intentions, simply drop the question, “Would you like to be my sweet lady at the dance this Saturday? I promise you I will bring the game like nothing you have ever seen.” Once she has finished slapping you and calling you out in front of all her friends, proceed to talk smack about her to your dormmates and go ask that other girl from your English class. Hey, rejection happens to the best of us. Just move on and write down all your emotions in case one day you decide to write a Dashboard Confessional-esque ballad ten years down the road.
