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My freshman year of college, I was set up with a roommate randomly. It was within the first hour of meeting that we realized we had the same math class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 9 a.m. It was within two hours that we devised a plan that we would switch off going to this math class. One of us would party, have sex with all the women, and get to spend the morning nestled between the two big breasted chicks who lucked out. The other would diligently take notes and report to the other what he needed for the next class. Then we’d switch. Some of you reading this are about to be college freshmen. You’re nodding along thinking, “great idea” as you search for a math class partner and decide whether you’ll take home two blondes or brunettes on your “off night.” This is why you’re going to be a freshman, because you’re very dumb. There are better vetting systems used for Craigslist Connections than we used to determine if either one of us was a good “study buddy.” Each morning of that semester, I’d raise my head at the responsible time of 8:52 a.m., see my roommate, wonder whose turn it was, then fall back asleep on top of my pizza box pillow. I failed that math class (sorry, Mom) and I didn’t even see one breast those mornings (other than my own). Freshman year sucks. You have no idea what you don’t know and for that, we envy you.
I don’t know if I’m writing this for incoming freshmen. There’s no way you’ll listen. You’re too cocky. You’re thinking, “Screw you, I’ve seen Van Wilder, I’ll have this student body of 40,000 wrapped around my finger within a week.” And why wouldn’t you be? You just got done with senior year. A town of people had you honestly thinking your football season mattered a little. You could tell your friends a 15-year-old chick looked hot and not one person would raise an eyebrow. They’d even say, “Bone that 15-year-old!” You haven’t read a book or even studied since you decided what school’s coeds would get the honor of your “Did that feel good?” kiss and a spilled seed. It all ended with you celebrating that C average at a graduation party where people gave YOU gifts.
Think about that–a party for completing the same thing as the kids who walk around with an aid, and then people leaving you money or T-shirt sheets because, “Hey! You did it! Just like Snooki!” And that’s why this year will probably end up being a disappointment.
You’ll get to school and realize life with Mom and Dad wasn’t the worst thing. You had meals, laundry, and masturbation without exchanging class schedules with a roommate. Sure, you couldn’t decorate your room with empty bottles of Calico Jack, but at least you had a constant reminder of your greatness in the form of participation trophies. You’ll find out your very special childhood experience was similar to that kid you just informed about your high school’s “unparalleled” women’s lacrosse program. Instead of the mountain of younger girls to direct to the nonexistent high school pool, there are older girls who look at you like they can tell your penis size from that visor you decided to wear. The 15 pounds you thought was just a cliché is a very real thing when you find out that ranch dressing can go on pizza. The older dudes you inform about the beer pong rules from your hometown won’t even look in your direction to call you gay. That doesn’t even include pledging, or the friend you made who disappeared because of something called “cocaine,” bad grades, and no car, or that girl who says you’re “like her brother” when you thought she wanted a dance floor makeout but was just coughing. Freshman year is going to be rough. You can ask anybody what he thinks and his answer will be a bunch of grunts like he’s taking a post-Fireball-and-Budweiser dump.
But don’t look for sympathy. If you look into the eyes of any senior, under the glaze of a hangover, you’ll see fear. The end of their ride is coming. For the most part, they have no job, no prospects, a girlfriend they aren’t sure about (she gives too gentle a blow job) and only a few months to figure it all out. A train is going to hit them and they know exactly when. Those seniors would switch places with you in a second. They would take the awkward moments, the Sunday Scaries, and the hours of wandering around campus looking for a class all over again to know that they could relive all the good stuff that comes after it. Freshman year sucks because change sucks. Change is the tough climb before a beautiful view from the top. That view is coming sooner than the crushing realities of life and this is why we envy the freshmen. The friends you’ll make, the blackouts you’ll have, the stresses about class that aren’t even a stress at all. Good luck this year and remember, you are very dumb.