Light and the ugly truth

Before I begin, let me just say this:
whoever you are, this column is not
about you. It is about everyone else. Comforted by this admonition, you may now continue.

Many columnists and barstool philosophers have tried to analyze the dating situation at Yale. As Valentine's Day approaches, it's time to put this debate on a new plane. Commentators thus far have missed the point entirely: most Yalies don't deserve to be dated at all. We are one of the most unattractive campuses in the nation, and it's time to recognize our deficiencies and stop complaining.

Yale women on the Yale man: "Yale guys are generally shorter and/or uglier than other guys. Most of the tall, good-looking guys are jerks, slimeballs, players, scum-
bags, ogres, insensitive buffoons, what
have you. Either that, or they completely lack the cojones to make a move. Any remaining men are already taken or are dating each other."

Yale men on the Yale woman: "All Yale girls are dogs." Obviously there are exceptions. One day I burst into my room, filled with enthusiasm, saying I had just met an incredibly cute girl, who was indeed a Yalie. Unimpressed, my roommate asked, "Psycho or taken?" As it turned out, she was both.

Yale women defend each other in one of two ways. (Yale men, by contrast, don't bother to defend each other at all.) First they say, "I know plenty of attractive women." With humble apologies, I'll dismiss this as an obvious, though forgiveable, bias towards one's friends. Then they say, "Yale women would all be beautiful if you didn't see them in sweatpants and no makeup all the time." But that's the brainwashing of Cosmo. What happened to natural beauty?

One thing Yalies are not, however, is fat. Trying to get fat on Yale dining hall food would be like trying to get intellectual enrichment from a YDN opinion column. A waist is a wonderful thing to mind.

I've been pretty pessimistic thus far, which is irresponsible of me just a week before Valentine's Day. Hence, I will outline our choices:

Stick with the high school sweetheart. A classic terminal case. The biggest problems with long distance relationships are the lack of nookie, and that inevitably, perhaps
thankfully, they never last. And yes, just like you, I thought I was the one-in-a-million exception.

Ride it out 'til we graduate. Again, not a tempting option. Very inconsistent with the biological needs of our age group. And who wants hairy palms?

The consumption of fermented beverages. A tried and true college practice, the donning of beer goggles often helps us get through many a lonely weekend. The downside of this is the sullen, disgusted "hangover cringe." Which brings us to our final option.

The GLOS. At some point in every Yalie's life, he or she must inhale deeply, perhaps shed a brief tear, and take the plunge. "GLOS," also known as "The Grand Lowering of Standards," is a ritual all of us go through when we realize that Old Campus is no Venice Beach. The GLOS is also known as "settling," and it involves a disappointed, defeated expansion of our criteria for a potential mate. Many of us find ourselves hitting on people we would have bypassed immediately in high school. Our only consolation might be that the men and women here are smarter than they were back home. After all, as future leaders of the world, we're supposed to be ugly. Just look at the Clinton cabinet, which has been compared unfavorably to the bar scene in Star Wars.

So we suck it up. Or we stumble upon incredible luck. Either way, it's not "lack of dating" that's the problem. It's lack of dating material.

But then again, at least we're not at MIT.

(Editor's note: Even Ben doesn't believe this crap. He is uglier than you are and his girlfriend is fantastically beautiful. Please ignore his idle arrogance and move onto another page. See Siegel, Laura, page 8. Remember, this column is not about you.)

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