The mating rituals of the 18 to 22 undergraduate age group are nullifying the concept of dating, and demonstrating more than ever the non-monogamous nature of our species.
We hook up, hang out and have awkward drunken encounters with people we never want to see again, which makes holding hands at the drive-in seem ancient and laughable, unless, of course, your free hand is getting to 2nd base. Truthfully, why should we waste time doing the slow song and dance of dating when we can skip straight to the fun part: marriage.
Okay, I'm not actually talking about marriage. I'm talking about what abstinence advocates wait until marriage to do, motivating them to make their vows at the average age of seventeen. For the rest of the student population, it's become commonly accepted to grab a friend and get our jollies on a corner desk in the library.
Library-based fun has become so frequent that, according to a very reliable source who shall hence forth be referred to as my friend Jenn, an outbreak of a new STD acquired from the bacteria of decomposing old books has caused a small epidemic on campus.
This serious disease is known as Bibliotitis and has reportedly been filling the waiting room of the Student Health Center. Though easily treatable, this outbreak is an indication that perhaps we should take fornication more seriously. Or we should just stop having sex with old books.
I'm not suggesting that we all don poodle skirts and high-waisted slacks and make celibacy and polka dancing our new leisure activities, like they do at the senior center, but we should not allow the standard ethics of our generation to be reduced to defiling literature. Before we know it, we'll be as bad as those filthy penguins of the Antarctic. That's right, I said penguins. Their little tuxedo suits and cute dance moves have everyone believing that they're these sweet, innocent creatures that mate for life. As my sister Lindy (the Journalism/Biology major) recently informed me, the claims of penguin monogamy are entirely propaganda. The whole thing is a complete and utter sham.
The truth, dear readers, is that penguins only pretend to be monogamous. One male penguin will wait for another male penguin to leave the glacier, and then pay a frisky visit to his "life mate," often impregnating her. The female penguin will have the egg and then the husband penguin will come back and raise it as his own, never knowing what happened while he was away (perhaps doing the same thing to another penguin couple).
Let's all be thankful we are not filthy belly-sliders like the penguins, but we could be on our way. The dialogue involved in college courtship has changed from "Can I take you out to dinner?" to "Is there a room we can use?" Instead of someone standing outside your window with a stereo held high over their head, belting out Whitesnake love tunes, you might be indulged with the overly romantic gesture of getting to fill up your beer cup first.
It used to be that if you invited someone over to your house, you would tidy up a bit, maybe squirt a bit of Febreeze on the couch, but I'm just impressed if there aren't open porn mags strewn across the bathroom floor and the toilet isn't clogged with moldy throw-up.
Our generation has become so used to convenience and efficiency that we often take the easiest option instead of picking a challenge that requires time and effort. In this impersonal age of technology, romance has become a rarity, and ASU is no exception.
It might be too late for us. The inevitable direction of dating at ASU could call for a Bibliotitis vaccine and Clorox-Brand Condoms. Should this be the case, please remember to return all books borrowed from the library by the due date given and in the same condition you received them.
If you disagree and still believe that monogamous romance is alive and well on campus, prove it to me by emailing me at melissa.mapes@asu.edu and then taking me out for a nice dinner. I will require candy and flowers; lilies are my favorite.
Reach the reporter: melissa.mapes@asu.edu.
