I’m five weeks into my senior year. If I don’t get eight hours of sleep at night, I cry during my 8:30 class. I’ve started to think high waisted pants pulled just below my breasts are a good thing. By next week, I could see myself enjoying “Days of Our Lives.”
I have sciatica.
When I see people going out to the bars, I find myself wondering if they’re warm enough, and last weekend, I audibly said, “Sheesh, my back could not take those heels, I need more support!” to an unassuming freshman clearly just trying to enjoy her night in some killer 5-inch stilettos.
She just looked at me like I was nuts and walked around me.
And by that point, it was nearly 9 p.m., so I couldn’t dilly-dally to clarify my comments, I needed to put on my long, cotton nightgown and go to sleep!
I think Boris Johnson is more attractive than Justin Bieber. I drink one glass of wine, loudly announce that I’m “under the table” and promptly fall asleep on the couch watching yet another period piece about aristocratic England.
I’m aging.
But freshmen, they don’t seem to have this same issue.
There’s nothing scarier than one of those lanky, skinny blonde girls wearing Air Force Ones, a Whiteclaw in one hand and a fake ID in the other. She doesn’t sleep, runs exclusively on caffeine, and though she switches her major from pre-med to psychology, she claims it was a choice and not a necessity.
While I learn to knit on a Friday evening, she boogies at Brick, dreaming of the day she will rush a sorority, go to a social, and meet a DU boy to marry.
For now, she settles for free drinks from a few single guys around, and tries to ignore their many red flags and absent, but existing girlfriends.
A freshman boy is almost worse than his female counterpart. He rushes a frat, thinks he’s all that, and attempts to pick up older girls by showing them his fake ID, which surprisingly only lets him into the 18+ line, because he got to college at 17 after skipping first grade. Clearly, his superior intelligence doesn’t include a ton of foresight.
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While I sleep he falls into a bush outside McFarland at 3 a.m. after losing his ID at New but convincing himself it wouldn’t matter because he’d “find a lady, no problem.”
Oh freshmen, I hope you never lose your unbridled optimism and your inhuman ability to run on caffeine and no sleep. Because it’s all downhill from here.
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