It's mid-August, and the bells of Century Tower - maybe a few e-bill notifications, also - are beckoning you to UF, a sultry and sticky swamp where you become an under-financed, oversexed version of your at-home self.
There's a hotness factor that goes along with being a Gator. If you're new, acquaint yourself with it. If you're not, reintroduce yourself. For us, being irresistible comes as effortlessly as winning a few national championships. So why not embrace it? What's stopping you from letting go and getting whatever and whoever you want?
And whatever and whoever are everywhere, strange beings that somehow slipped by your attention back home. One pounds away on the treadmill beside you at Southwest Recreation Center, sweaty and flushed, grunting with every stride.You witness them lining hallways, invading every musty crevice of Library West and every square inch of lawn space on the Plaza of the Americas, flocking to pool parties in scantily-clad droves, gyrating with reckless aggression in moist downtown clubs -it seems that as summer winds down and hurricanes wind up, Gainesville becomes overrun with them. You try not to stare while driving, lest you crash your Vespa. But everywhere you turn, they're waiting for you. I'm talking about achingly alluring college coeds, one of the most irresistible species of sexy known to man. Ironic, isn't it, that at home, where everyone knew everyone, you couldn't find anyone worthy of your superior body fluids? And if you did get laid back home, you were probably either settling or unaware of your potential. Admit it.
So without much warning, you're thrust into a strange, new arena where more than 50,000 strangers, a collective mass of throbbing, carnal energy, are after you, seeking, well, exactly what you're seeking - sex. Lots of it with one disclaimer: claiming you want a wholesome, meaningful relationship. This is just a slippery slope into having a wealth of quaking sex later, which is like hitting the Staples "easy button."
Once at the university, your cunning libido begins to play perverse Jedi-sex tricks on your naive brain. While standing in line at Starbucks, you're certain that that saucy little barista was giving you the once over while foaming your latte. Thoughts of what you and the Starbucks Siren could do with a bottle of sugar-free hazelnut syrup gives you goose bumps.
Or there's that frat-tastic stud who offers you his seat on the bus. He rises with a smile. You sit with a coy "thank you," and you're rewarded with his plaid short-covered bulge swaying inches from your face with each of the bus's meandering turns. What is in actuality a perfectly average-looking guy holding onto the ceiling bar suddenly bears remarkable semblance to Brad Pitt, hanging by his bulging biceps in the doorway in "Fight Club."
It's football season, and testosterone levels are peaking. The temperature is rising, and inhibitions, along with panties, are dropping rapidly. In the words of Lloyd Christmas from "Dumb And Dumber," "The beer is flowing like wine, and you're not getting any less hot." There are no curfews, and after a few shots there won't be any guilt, either.
This semester, have fun, but don't forget to breathe - and definitely don't forget to wrap it up. Give your ravenous sex drive at least until Drop/Add is over before jumping into any pre-ordered extra-long twin sheets. With your college career beginning, cruising along or sadly ending, the excitement will make even the creepy teaching assistant with the mushroom-like odor and question-mark-shaped mole on his lip seem attractive. Take it from me, no matter where you are, there's still plenty of time to make the best mistakes of your life.
Stephanie Dunn is a senior majoring in journalism and English.
