Take off those water-skis, people! Summer's out for school! The sun has set on 06X and a new term is rising as fall drops his knickers to take a colorful dump on our freedom. As I attempt to gaze out the sawdust-caked window of my brand-new suite in beautiful McGlaughlin, I notice that the leaves on the trees are already turning purple and spelling out messages begging me to put on that gas mask because these carpet-glue fumes are seriously tripping me out. Or is it the nearly-dry paint? (You're invited to the "No Booze Necessary" party here this weekend. 109 Thomas. Safety and Security will be baffled.)
If you don't quite get the super-deep title up there, you're obvi a '10. On behalf of those of us who (1) readily accept "obvi" as a word, (2) recognize that "06X" is Dartmouthspeak for "this summer," (3) may or may not have heard of "The Dartmouth X," and (4) are old enough to remember Salt 'n' Pepa before Pepa ditched Salt to enroll in "The Surreal Life," I would like to be the among the first to welcome you '0Xs to Dartmouth.
But, alas, it can't be. My long-lost dream of joining the welcoming committee of this truly exceptional school was drop-kicked in the McNutts last spring when my trip-leader application was rejected ... for the second time. Oh well. I would have braced myself for another slug in the ego and hoped for another one of those "better shots next year," but unfortunately the third-time's-a-charm thing isn't in the cards for me -- unless I become crippled by senioritis, decide to pull a Bluto, and sign up for a few more years of "COLLEGE."
Yes, I am finally one of those seniors, (pronounced: "seee-niorrrs!") This year is one big "Last Chance Party"for our already-nostalgic class of 2007. The highly-anticipated hour has arrived that we can speak condescendingly to you pipsqueaks out there. We assume that you assume that we're automatically sweet since we're the oldest and we can use our powers of sweetness to make a little progress on that Dartmouth Decade before we graduate.
As a senior, I've missed my last chance to be among the first to welcome you to Dartmouth, so I guess I'll just have to settle for welcoming you to the dawn of your first Chi Gam dance party. That'll do.
As the first-year students will soon discover, the life of a Dartmouth student is a "Surreal Life" in many ways. Some call Dartmouth a bubble. I prefer the pong ball analogy. Either way, this "sphere" contains some of the greatest people and opportunities that you will ever stumble upon, as well as one particularly hollow legend that I would like to smack right off the table before this school year really gets rollin'. That is: "The Legend of The X."
Many of you may not have heard of it, but this frattastic theory posits that, for whatever reason, the Dartmouth (social/x-ual) experience goes downhill for women after freshman year and gets better and better for the dudes (as they age like fine wines in those basement cellars). The "X" achieves its shape because each gender is represented by an isolated, lonesome, blacked-out line headed in the aforementioned uphill/downhill directions. The two solitary paths allegedly converge during sophomore summer, when everyone is granted the green-light to hook up with people their own age.
I won't get into the nitty-gritty details -- the whole heterosexual-centric hypothesis is based on some pretty ancient principles which can be challenging for any mastermind to take seriously at first but the abridged version of this highly-sophisticated theory is: "this year is supposed to suck for me."
I was first informed about "The X" when I was fresh off the bus from my DOC Trip and ready to hit the frats for my first game of pong. (Water! Obvi!) Upon being enlightened about this "X" monument, I felt tremendous pressure to go out and have the best year of my life ... and I easily cave under pressure, so I pretty much spent all of freshman fall in the stacks. (Studying.)
In all seriousness, back in '03F I was very unhappy to discover that I and my fellow first-year women seemed to have been arbitrarily assigned a reputation as being nave, "socially outgoing" and accordingly, easily taken advantage of. I noticed that, for some reason, the words "freshman girl" always seemed to be accompanied by an eye-roll
I became very self-conscious about going to fraternities and having fun at all because I was wary of being perceived as somehow, well -- dumb and easy. All of these thoughts had been shaped by this mythical "X" shape that I believed to be held sacred by Dartmouth's resident social scientists.
Well, as it turned out I was just being a nave freshman girl. After three whole years as a chick in the Dartmouth "scene," I can now confidentially declare that this whole theory is totally biz-ogus.
Only a few people these days actually believe in The "X", which was no doubt the brainchild of some darling freshman gentleman who was one day attempting to justify his own willingness to stand outside for an hour waiting to get into that Chi Gam dance party while all of his lady-friend trippees were being ushered in like VIPs. (Poor guy.)
First-year ladies, I assure you that as long as you treat yourselves and others with respect, you can each easily enjoy four-year reigns as Queens of the Basement. The Chi Gams will warmly welcome you into their house for as long as you choose to frequent their friendly fraternity.
It's actually the '010 men I'm more concerned about. There's another legend out there that the only way the 'shMen of Dartmouth are permitted to enter a Chi Gam dance party is by vowing to defenestrate themselves on the way out.
All that said, I challenge all of you '0X women to look out for those poor little '0XYs out there. Think about it. It must be really intimidating to have to show up at the stoop of some scary, fratty frat and request that a Brother-Here grant you permission to run game on his turf.
You freshwomen should seize this easy opportunity to "be there" for a great group of talented/good-lookin'/a-hem/"vulnerable" guys who you'll be getting to know throughout the next four years. Granted, this is just a suggestion. The Bubble is a free country. If you fresh-ladies aren't interested in the dudes your own age, that's a-okay. Don't feel guilty about leaving them out in the cold, dark, freezing rain. They'll be fine! The senior girls will be looking out for them.
- Justworkin'onmyDartmouthDecade. (Seeya at X-Gam!)
