Fo... the Shorties Ready ... Break!
By Nikhil Shenoy
and Chris Cabral
So, August came, school started, and people started pairing off: Boy meets girl, girl likes some other meaner boy, first boy is really nice to girl, but other boy gets girl. Sucks to be that first guy, huh? Now it’s November, and the second guy and the girl have sex on a regular basis — she considers this “dating,” he considers this “sex on a regular basis.” In some cases, the girl won’t have sex because she’s “saving herself as a gift to her future husband.” (This just in: being bad in bed is not a gift to your future husband.) People and freshmen all over campus are overjoyed at the thought of going home for Thanksgiving to their families. For this star-crossed pair, however, this time apart marks a very important crossroads: is our relationship going to continue, or are we done?
Sometimes, it’s easy to know when you’re done. A wand falls from the sky, and the little mushroom is praying to you and the King says “Oh, thank heavens! I’m back to my old self again. Thank you so much. Here is a letter from the Princess.” And you’re done. The island explodes as you ride away in your helicopter, the screen says “Congratulations! You’ve destroyed the vile Red Falcon and saved the universe. Consider yourself a hero.”
And you’re done. College relationships, on the other hand, aren’t that clear cut. Sorry to break it to you, but your significant other won’t flash orange while the background music quickens and the energy meter runs low on your relationship. But fear not, for indicators do exist, signaling when to press control-z on that promise of love you errantly made so long ago.
Ladies, be honest with yourselves: guys are simple creatures. You can tell when it’s time to let him loose. Say, for instance, yo’ man drunkenly mistakes your bookshelf for a urinal. This is easily rectified: make him clean it, and then, break up with his sorry ass. Maybe you should rub his face in it and say “No! Bad Chris (firstname.lastname@example.org)!” Maybe you just don’t want to be his girlfriend anymore for whatever reason, so make up something extremely irrational and incomprehensible. If he ever cries, we suggest giving him the good ole’ college LJBF, because if you wanted a pussy partner, you could’ve gone to Wellesley (and at least she’d know how to operate your equipment).
Wait a sec, what’s LJBF?
LJBF is a powerful weapon that women inherently wield. Let’s clap break it down:
L — Let’s — This hides the word “us” in it. Basically, she’s an insecure, heinous bitch and still wants to own you, but deceivingly hides that fact.
J — Just — your new status is belittled.
B — Be — “Now this is happening.”
F — Friends — No sex. Just lots of talk about other guys. Mainly, other guys boning her.
This may seem innocent enough to the girl, but the guy feels like he just got “Jacked UP!” In reality, he was never looking for friendship — he gets plenty of that from his guy friends. What he really wanted was just companionship coupled with unencumbered jackhammer sex, which he could technically also get from his guy friends. (Gay relationships, male or female, do exist, but we’re from Virginia, and we’d hate to write about anything illegal. Anal sex in Virginia is a class six felony, and results in five years imprisonment, which we find really ironic, but we digress.)
Men do have a defense against the LJBF, though: it’s called “dumping her first.” One classic method is telling her that you two are pieces of a different puzzle, peas from different pods, or some other Chicken Soup drivel that she’s biologically wired to understand, according to Larry Summers. You can also take her out to a nice dinner, roofie her drink, then when she wakes up in a bathtub full of ice without any kidneys, she’ll know it’s over, because who’d want to date someone with no kidneys?
Dumping girls can be hard, even for the most hard-nosed guys who get chicks all the time. So, if you do happen to fall into a relationship, make sure to keep a running list of your partner’s annoying habits in your mind. When she breaks out the LJBF, tell her it’s okay because “I need a machete to go ‘in the land down under,’ you noticeably gained eight pounds since we started dating, and your cooking smells like Lobdell.” If she starts crying, you can probably get her back with a little effort, but she gained eight pounds, so it may not be worth the trouble.
Sometimes, it turns out she’s a keeper: she’s attractive, tolerates your man habits, doesn’t talk too much, and she’s “a lady in the streets, and a freak in the bed.” (We’ve never encountered such a specimen, but if you think you are one of these unicorns, email email@example.com.)
As for Thanksgiving Break, take it for what it is: a break. You get time off from work, from your friends (significant or otherwise), and from doing your own laundry. Watch the parade, eat the turkey, and celebrate the white man’s triumph over hapless naked Indians, opening the door for future tech companies to outsource white men’s jobs to other Indians hundreds of years later.