>>>The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
January 30, 2005

B is for Bad. Boys begins with B, therefore boys must equal bad. All boys, every single one of them, claim that girls are dramatic. We're the ones who blow everything out of proportion. We're the ones who overreact. We're the ones who carve “A is for Asshole” on the side of their car with a rock. But here's a big surprise: guys are just as dramatic—maybe even more so than girls are. G is for Good.

Girls get their emotions toyed with by guys all the time. They will invest themselves for months in a guy whose stock may just leave them with empty pockets and a hole in their heart. But girls, unlike boys, eventually can't concentrate on anything else but this flaccid excuse of an investment and decide that they've come to the cut-off point. Girls try their very best not to be dramatic and attempt to catch the guy after a class and say something like, “Listen, if I don't do this now it won't ever get out. I know that I enjoy your company and I also discovered through the array of events since this summer and first semester that your need for female companionship is minimal. But like I said before I like being around you. And I'd like to hang out more, but I can't read you at all and can't tell if you're genuinely interested or if I should just take it for its surface value and leave it at that. So I'd like to know, do you want anything more out of this?” And I bet you girls even write this speech out during class just to make it sound as undramatic as possible. Goddamn, P is for Pathetic.

I'm convinced that only 2% of the guys on campus wants to be single and that's only because the other 98% have found a college-life-partner in an herbal plant or alcohol. My best friend Casey says that guys mature a lot slower than we do, and right now college women are on the same emotional plane as a 30-year-old—but she is dating someone from the slowly extinct 2% category so what the hell does she know? STHU is for Shut The Hell Up!

I've seen lots of girls get involved with guys who aren't good enough for them. And while we're all emotionally attached to these guys at different levels, we're all giving them head right? Well take a second to reflect on your past relationships….done? Let's take another second for those attempting to remember drunk hookups they believe were at the post-orgasm phase of a relationship….denial takes a little longer huh….done? Okay moving forward. Think of all the head you gave and look at your jewelry box. If there isn't a direct proportion to how much head you give to how much silver is in your jewelry box from him, then sucking cock isn't getting you that boyfriend is it? Casey disagrees. She says there's another word for that. H is for Hookers.

Try out this scenario, the root of why this week's article is full of bitter sarcasm and a perverted version of a Sesame Street alphabet lesson…. If a guy is too vague with the definition of the relationship and he ends up getting hurt, it's his own fucking fault. Boys like to have the arrangement when they can have sex with a girl, but he's not her boyfriend. So he gets all the benefits of a girlfriend and she gets nothing. He gets laid. She gets nothing, so when the opportunity arises when the girl meets someone who doesn't want to use her for just sex and makes that little bit of extra effort—like I don't know, seeing her SOBER—she makes out with him. Then the sex addict boy finds out, gets mad, and dumps her. Let me just clear this up right now: YOU CAN'T DUMP SOMEONE YOU WEREN'T DATING IN THE FIRST PLACE!! H is also for Hypocrite, dickhead.

A guy can't suddenly decide his sex toy has committed infidelity when he wasn't dating her in the first place, and never made it clear to her that they were in fact a couple working under the terms of monogamy for a period of time. The best type of these boys are the kind who get so hurt he stops speaking to said girl for only kissing someone else. If you were really that into her in the first place you would have put down the doobie and the beer and watch the movie with her on Sunday night instead of saying something so untruly romantic as, “I don't think I'm drunk enough…I'll be back.” So don't get all territorial on us. You may have planted a flag, but if you're not going to stay and build a fort, which you commitment phobic losers might actually turn into a really great settlement, then you're going to lose residence in the bush. C is for Clever, not clit.

Because you know what the benefit is of being friends with benefits? You can make out with other people. If the whole point of being friends with benefits is not having to do boyfriend duties (i.e. presents, public kisses, whatever), then we girls reserve the right to be out with other people to distribute our goodies accordingly. Some girls claim that friends with benefits will eventually turn into a relationship if you hold out long enough—well by senior year if you're still holding out for the same guy, you're pretty fucking dumb. D is for Delusional.

And I can't stand guys who are unforgiving. You know they can call you up drunk at 3 in the morning on the day of your final to talk to you and you have to pretend that it's okay because you don't want to yell at them and be dramatic, but if you asked this guy to your sorority's formal and he was so drunk that he doesn't even remember the next morning because he was too drunk or didn't call when he promised he would, and blah blah blah, he expects us to forgive and forget. But make out with someone else and it's blasphemy. Because girls are supposed to be perfect undramatic angels. H is for Horseshit.

It makes me crazy, this using and discarding business. Maybe it girls' own fault for not holding guys to higher standards when we were freshman. Maybe all of our standards slowly began to drop as we realized that the small pool of males we have to work with really isn't the pool we'd like to be swimming in permanently. Maybe we should find a river that will lead us to the ocean where they're more variety. M is for More. Which is what we should all be looking for.

On a side note there's always a guy who acts like they want to cuddle at 4 in the morning after a party, but while in bed he pokes you from behind, if you know what I mean. When did we become a society of “through the pants pokers”? It's like he's trying to say with the poke, “I know you're tired and are ready to pass out but maybe if I poke you enough you'll be rejuvenated by my poking stick and energized enough to choke the poke, if you now what I mean.” I'd like for once to see a girl poke a boy. “Hey wake up drunky drunky. (poke poke) Time to play. (poke poke) I didn't see any necklace when you came in so you better get down there. (poke poke)” W is for weird.

Okay, back to the B is for Bad story. What is so infuriating though is that girls will always attempt to talk to the boy in one final effort to try and clear things up. And while it would be really….relievingly nice for it to go something like, “Hey I didn't want it to work out this way and maybe next time you'll be a little more clear to whichever girl you decide to get involved with what your definition of relationship is so you won't be hurt again.” But the next time you'll see him he'll be drunk and you'll be drunk and the bitterness and low blows will just come flying out, “Why don't you go makeout with 10 guys and lie about it?” “You can't dump someone you weren't dating in the first place asshole. I am sooooooooooooooooooo (dramatically) sorry that I pulled you away from you're crack pipe for four hours every two weeks. But now you can just devote your full attention to it now.” And luckily at least one of you won't remember this conversation ever took place. All signs point to him forgetting and you'll spend all Sunday feeling like shit. U if for Unnecessary guilt.

But if you want to be in a relationship with someone who will continually forget he's in a relationship with you, far be it from me to stop you. I'm just passing out a little friendly advice. Go have fun making your own bitter reflected alphabet series. T.E.P.O. is for The End, or for my friends studying abroad in London right now and can still relate to what I'm writing here, Piss Off.