When was the last time you walked into an establishment and made the room stop? Wouldn't it be nice to be the belle of the ball, the show stopper or the girl all the bad guys want?
In our society, it is hard to stand out in a crowd. To do so, one must apply heavy amounts of mascara, get breast implants and appear on a reality dating show. (Wait, I suppose most of that can be found at the Char on Saturday nights.)
It's Vermillion, people. We're down-home folk that pretend to live lavish college lifestyles.
Dates consist of taking the "hot chick" to Chae's and then Carey's just so everyone can see you two together. You don't really care about her, she doesn't really care about you, but you both know it will make each more desirable.
We all tend to want what we can't have: we want to be celebrities. Again, it's Vermillion. The biggest celebrity you'll find is that one guy that writes the humor column and plays in a rock band or two. What was his name again? Brad? Billy? Bob? Who knows. Not important.
We're too self-consumed to really notice anyone else, especially those that challenge our degree of significance in this God-forsaken wasteland of sex and alcohol.
Maybe I'm being a bit facetious, but it's hard to matter in this town.
Each person of slight importance has their own reality "Entourage" show and crowd of cronies picking up their leftovers just to pretend they're being sustained by such greatness.
We all idolize one or two people for their skills in picking up babes or hogging, but in the end, the only God we really pray to is the one found in that small room and made of porcelain.
All we really want is to be noticed for the nice piece of ass we took home last night. Everyone wants to feel validated by a date with Penelope, and I'm sorry to disappoint, ladies and gentlemen, but I'm not sure she's interested.
Sure, some people find their life partner while in college, and that's great. But thanks to them, they've taken the cream of the crop off the market and the leftovers validate themselves night after night by grueling, trolling and terrible necking.
Bottom line: unless you're married, engaged or just don't care about it, you're screwed in the dating department, and I don't mean literally. You're figuratively screwed into a light socket that will continually burn you in a repetitive manner until you move out of Vermillion.
Granted, wherever you end up, you won't matter there, either. So let's just get used to it. Date. Drink. Pray at the end of the night. Be thankful you're not committing to one of those have-beens or wanna-bes. Be irresponsible, and take solace in the fact that you know everyone here is in the same boat you are.
Reach columnist Tove Aldrich at Tove.Aldrich@usd.edu
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