Rant!

Like many men at this campus, I like my women like I like my food at the dining hall: hot.
By Kenyon S. M. weaver

Like many men at this campus, I like my women like I like my food at the dining hall: hot. But for all of the good-looking would-be ’Cliffies that grace the classrooms of Sever, I hear all this talk about “Harvard goggles” and guys hitting up nearby institutions of higher learning such as Lesley or Wellesley looking for love. So many, I am convinced, are looking in the wrong places.

This isn’t to say that Lesley and Wellesley, among other places, don’t have some of the most eligible bachelorettes this side of the Charles. A recent bartending gig two friends of mine had at Longy School of Music illuminates the real drawing points of looking outside of Harvard: The name actually does mean something. Phone numbers and propositions were handed back as fast as drinks were handed out—it was like shooting fish in a barrel.

But that scene is probably an unfair characterization of gender relations when Harvard guys leave Cambridge. After all, these two friends of mine are sexy, sexy bitches, and everybody was drinking like it was New Year’s. The fact remains that there are innumerable extremely good-looking girls (and guys, I’m sure) here—indeed, FM’s 15 Hottest Freshmen list had dozens of alternates and we probably missed scores more. All it takes is a little patience, a little less cynicism, some gentle conversation, perhaps even some early Keith Sweat playing unobtrusively on the stereo—and you’ll see what you’ve been missing.

Tags
For The Moment