As of last weekend, my track record with the boys here at Brown was not too impressive. It actually really only consisted of the Walk of Shame and one phantom-like boy whom I saw from afar at the Ratty. He graciously gave me a polite half-wave. I figured that this scenario would be college: random hook-ups, lots of parties, and never breakfast. My friends from high school would often talk about the college dating scene and how it was withering, smothered to death by the giant presence of booty calls and DFMOs. I always thought they were being slightly dramatic but after my fiasco the first weekend I wasn’t so sure.
A few weekends ago, however, I was pleasantly surprised. I found myself room-hopping with friends in the giant maze that is Keeney. When I least expected it, I bumped into a classmate, Suitor #2, a pleasant surprise indeed. Suitor #2 is nothing like the aforementioned, mysterious first suitor. For starters, he has great style (very pre-professional) and a soft-spoken, charming demeanor. This dreamy Mr. Wall Street and I conversed in the narrow hallways of Keeney, a broken exit sign hanging precariously over our heads.
Soon enough, the “drunchies” kicked in and we decided to make the hike to Antonio’s. To my surprise, Wall Street paid for my pizza. He actually pulled out his wallet and offered his own money to the cashier. I was smitten with his chivalry and, as we began to walk back to my dorm, my roommate out of town for the weekend, I started to contemplate the idea of letting him stay over.
Fast forward an hour and we’re standing outside the door of my dorm. The buzz of my Cranberry and Vodka cocktail had worn off and the breeze of the late fall air was soothing on my flushed shoulders. The moment of truth. In an effort to be lady-like, I decided not to invite Suitor #2 in. Always the gentleman, he was fine with my decision and I went to bed giddy and proud.
Here’s where the epiphany comes in. I heard from my knight in preppy armor all weekend and we even saw each other on Monday (in the library, in broad daylight). I realized that not every college boy is looking for, as my grandma would say, “just one thing.” They are complex, multi-faceted creatures and it’s unfair to stereotype them as perpetually horny, insincere misogynists. I learned that there is nothing wrong with sleeping in your own bed on the weekends; in fact, it’s actually very nice. As a freshman in college, I feel pressure to live up to the standards that men, and even society, place on young women — but I’m slowly beginning to learn that doing what I want, and not just what I’m okay with, is making all the difference and even paying off.