I’m Not as Pathetic as You Are…

One really nice thing about being OOT: it’s no longer your fault that you don’t have dates.

Oh, obviously it is. I mean, you’re OOT instead of IT, which is a terrible mistake on your part which you should remedy immediately by packing your bags and moving into a closet somewhere in the tri-state area.

But if you’re dateless in IT, you begin to wonder. Why is the whole world going out…except me? Why does my friend have a new date every night but I have to wait for midterms before I’ll even hear about a guy? Is there something I’m not doing or something my parents aren’t doing? Something somebody isn’t doing?

So you languish alone at home on long evenings reading your favorite shidduch blog and feeling sorry for yourself because nobody tries to set you up, and those who do try it with guys who don’t want to go out with you.

But OOT it’s a whole ‘nother ball game. Nobody is setting you up because there’s nobody to go out with. It’s that simple. Any deficiency shifts to the location, which simply lacks a male population sufficient to support your dating habits.

Me? I’m fine. But this town is kinda short of singles…

It was a good theory, anyway, until a spat of engagement among local single people went and ruined it. Now everyone is getting engaged and I haven’t even been set up yet!

Oh well. C’est la vie.

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Thoughts upon Graduating

As I marched down to Pomp and Circumstance, wearing what, in a less absurd universe, would be used only to keep the sun from shining in through windows, the following disturbing thought occurred to me:

Without midterms and finals, when will I get any dates?

Tis the Season to be Sneezy

It’s finals, and finals go tissue-in-hand with colds. In the spirit of last year’s post, I present an ode to those brave defenders who keep us healthy in this cold, cold weather:

 

Sonnet #1: To My Leukocytes

 

A monarch besieged, I toss in my bed

While through the castle they spread the alarm.

You stir in your barracks and lift your head,

Rise and seize proteins that serve you as arm.

You hasten through blood-soaked halls to the fight

And seek the enemy where he does lie

in my cells to battle him through the night,

Engulfing the foe, you kill and you die.

In the morning I rise to your victory

But I cannot toast you with a parade,

Award a medal for your bravery,

Or even knight you for your aid.

We shall never meet, for you are in me

I can only reward you with vitamin C.