March 31, 2010

I Can’t Believe I’m Writing About Katie

Print More

Ah Spring is in the air and campus has more fences than the “All the Things She Said” video by t.A.T.u.  I wasn’t intending on writing a Spring Break article — and this really isn’t one … it’s just about a stupid occurrence coinciding with when I was on Spring Break — but some people (a person) from Colby College (who vacationed at IFA Villas Bavaro in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic) (during the week of Mar. 21-27) (who I met at the “circle bar”) (not being specific or anything) got me thinking. And I’m thinking I really like parenthesis.

While dancing the night away at the overpriced basement of Bruce Wayne (a club in a giant cave called Imagine), a girl grabbed me to dance. A girl I know. A girl I had made out with the night before … that is not my point though. As a matter of fact, the relevance of this is that it should be completely irrelevant. However, upon looking to my left, (but leaving everything I own in the box to the right) I came face-to-finger with a gentleman guy from Colby’s middle digit and evil eye.

Reverting to my Long Island roots, I needed to uncover to root of this problem in the most civil and reasonable way possible.

“The fuck is that about?”

Apparently, in choice words, I had “stolen” this girl away from his friend. She had been making out with him earlier and I of course had seen all of this happen in a giant fucking cave where people were switching dance partners like telephone operator boards in the ’20’s. I am gagging on my sarcasm.

Even if I had intended on making out with this girl that night (I wasn’t), and even if I had seen some random kid from some random middle-tier safety school making out with a girl, would I feel guilty “stealing” her?


Get over yourself. Dogs pee on trees all the time; it doesn’t stop the next dog from peeing. In this case, though, the choice is up to the tree as to which dog can pee on them. This girl in particular has a shit fetish, so we’ll be made due(-do) with what we’ve got. I mean, she’s not your girlfriend. You probably don’t even know her name …

Just like the tango, there is no “I” in make-out. But there is a “go,” as in “go away” or “go ahead,” because just like the tango, the decision to make out (or more) takes two. People go on vacation to relax and enjoy places like the two massage beds at the RAM Spa. And “ram” was an acronym, not a command to a select pair of amigos on the trip (so I hope these friends can “reed” between the lines).

No one need be told who has been “laid claim to” or is “off-limits” because you think you or “your boy” has something special going on. You just can’t do that. Spread your peacock wings and scream your annoying peacock screech and impress the girl or guy so they won’t chose some other peacock, or pee on some other tree. Or stay home with your parents and don’t rain on my Spring Break.

As our group of Cornellians made a massive exodus from the Dominican Republic, back to our real lives, where only the work is all-inclusive, we left behind the caipirinhas, a tiny die in the pool, the aptly named discotheque, Las Palmas, that didn’t get busy until 2:30 a.m., Felix the bartender and much fuller septic tanks, the next wave of Americans were coming in … 40+ students from Wisconsin (and just to badger them — ha! — we beat you in basketball!). After six nights of resort food our drinking wasn’t up to par with them, but we saw in them the perpetuation of the cycle.

In this case, when someone new came in, we stepped aside and weren’t little bitches about it. Instead of flipping them off, we did our thing and were happy with what we got … our time on the dance floor making out with that lovely, exotic Dominican Republic. We didn’t really have a choice of whether or not we could stay and mark our territory — I don’t think the airline would have been so accommodating — but we left with no few regrets.

It’s not the most congruent correlation, but there’s something to be made from it. And at the very least, we all made (it) out alive.

Jeff K. is a senior in the College of Engineering. He may be reached today at thee sex columnist panel in B14 Hollister at 5 p.m. Come Inside appears alternate Thursdays this semester.

Original Author: Jeff K.