Write Me, I'm Begging You!
WRITE ME, I'M BEGGING YOU!
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
MARCH 28, 2003
THE HOYA
SEX ON THE HILLTOP
MARCH 28, 2003
There's no way I can pen a witty, humorous and/or searing commentary on sociological phenomena among Generation Y’s male-female relations this week. There are protesters in Red Square, CNN's ratings have skyrocketed, and the Academy Awards shunned their red carpet. Given the state of the world, there are much more serious matters to consider.
Like the fact that no one has written any angry letters to the editor about my articles in weeks. Even ex-boyfriends whom I publicly embarrass in print won’t respond to my goading. Does anyone read this column? Isn’t anyone pissed off?? What must I do to get a reaction?!? Pose naked in Playboy?
Oh wait, no … the sex columnist from University of Kansas already did that.
Perhaps my bitterness stems from that competitive, jealous spirit students in the School of Foreign Service know so well. My fellow college dating columnists across the nation are becoming famous, getting interviews with USA Today and the New York Times while I toil in relative anonymity, consoling myself with the dubious notoriety of graffiti in a Darnall elevator which supposedly includes my name. Or so I’ve heard. Hey, fame’s gotta start somewhere.
Still, Boston College’s sex columnist got flown to New York to evaluate ABC’s “Bachelorette,” while New York University and Tufts’ sex columnists were written up in Cosmo. Maxim quoted Berkley’s columnist and the Yale dating columnist secured a book contract.
As for me, well … I got to see How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days for free. Although I had to sit in the aisle.
But that’s not all. I know it’s rude to brag, but you won’t believe all the great things I get just because I’m Georgetown’s one and only dating columnist.
Complete List of Free Stuff I’ve Gotten From This Gig:
And don’t even get me started on the fan mail. Wow. I can’t stop the flow … three to five emails every single week! Please, ya’ll, you have to restrain yourselves; I can’t possibly deal with volume like that. Any more and I may have to hire a personal assistant. You think the Hoya would pay for that?
The whole thing is eerily reminiscent of my high school radio show. As a DJ, occasionally they would offer me promo CDs featuring horrifically bad bands no one had ever heard of. I soon realized that no one would ever hear about these bands, mainly because they were horrifically bad. I then used the disks to fashion a large mobile, which is now hanging in my basement at home. So it’s not like I wasn’t used to getting loads of freebies.
And I was really popular! After all, with the highly coveted slot of 6-8 a.m. Saturday mornings, people kept their dials tuned. On good days, my listener base peaked at two: my grandmother and the station manager. The station manager slept through most of it.
Although my grandma did start a grassroots campaign, plugging my show to all of her “Tennis-Lady Friends,” my brush with morning-radio fame did not result in any fan mail — or graffiti, for that matter. As it was, I retired from the public sphere, only to reemerge two years later as the slightly more prominent school newspaper opinions columnist.
That stint led to one particularly memorable letter to the editor: my dad’s strongly worded reaction to my pro co-ed sleepover column. Suffice to say, he was not in favor of such events. The Chicago Tribune wrote a story about the editorial scuffle, accompanied by a great photo of my father and me attempting to strangle each other. My notoriety spiked then and there; it’s been downhill ever since.
Actually, I’m not really concerned with fame per se. I don’t need my fifteen minutes immediately — I’m sure I’ll be involved in some political scandal later in life. What I’d really like right now is some FEEDBACK. Yes, feedback — that’s when you, the reader, tell me, the writer, what you think. Specifically about the topics addressed in my canon of columns, but I suppose you could share good Gtown gossip or discuss J. Lo’s views on marriage — really, anything but the war on Iraq. I do not want to hear what you have to say about that.
I’m sure President DeGoia would though! He also wants to know that you appreciate condoms and would like to see them displayed prominently on every door throughout this campus. Maybe you should write him to advocate a One Student, One Door, One Condom policy. Or you could send him a condom care package!
But I digress.
Perhaps you wonder what sort of feedback you should send. Well, the mail I currently get is a mix of the random, the bizarre, and encouraging comments from my mother. To give you an idea, the following are all actual, unedited quotes:
In addition to that, I do occasionally receive date requests … although I guess that’s not a big deal given that Kansas’ columnist claims she’s regularly solicited for sex while BC’s columnist had to get an unlisted dorm and phone number.
I’m thinking more along the lines of constructive criticism, intriguing thoughts, or humorous stories about your sex life. That was a joke. I really don’t want to hear about your sex life. Well, unless the story is really good, in which case ... definitely send it.
Still, Boston College’s sex columnist got flown to New York to evaluate ABC’s “Bachelorette,” while New York University and Tufts’ sex columnists were written up in Cosmo. Maxim quoted Berkley’s columnist and the Yale dating columnist secured a book contract.
As for me, well … I got to see How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days for free. Although I had to sit in the aisle.
But that’s not all. I know it’s rude to brag, but you won’t believe all the great things I get just because I’m Georgetown’s one and only dating columnist.
Complete List of Free Stuff I’ve Gotten From This Gig:
- How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days board game … instructions: for death by PR boredom, smother yourself with game.Yes indeed, the perks just keep rolling in!
- The Guide to Picking Up Girls book and matching cardboard coaster … always useful in case of lesbian emergency.
- A bright pink baseball mitt … this wasn’t actually given to me; I just saw it on the newsroom table and figured no one else would want a piece of magenta sports equipment.
- A date with Tom Wigg (including a box of candy and a stuffed bear) … I bet the other sex columnists haven’t gotten complaisant 18-year-olds as a bonus!
And don’t even get me started on the fan mail. Wow. I can’t stop the flow … three to five emails every single week! Please, ya’ll, you have to restrain yourselves; I can’t possibly deal with volume like that. Any more and I may have to hire a personal assistant. You think the Hoya would pay for that?
The whole thing is eerily reminiscent of my high school radio show. As a DJ, occasionally they would offer me promo CDs featuring horrifically bad bands no one had ever heard of. I soon realized that no one would ever hear about these bands, mainly because they were horrifically bad. I then used the disks to fashion a large mobile, which is now hanging in my basement at home. So it’s not like I wasn’t used to getting loads of freebies.
And I was really popular! After all, with the highly coveted slot of 6-8 a.m. Saturday mornings, people kept their dials tuned. On good days, my listener base peaked at two: my grandmother and the station manager. The station manager slept through most of it.
Although my grandma did start a grassroots campaign, plugging my show to all of her “Tennis-Lady Friends,” my brush with morning-radio fame did not result in any fan mail — or graffiti, for that matter. As it was, I retired from the public sphere, only to reemerge two years later as the slightly more prominent school newspaper opinions columnist.
That stint led to one particularly memorable letter to the editor: my dad’s strongly worded reaction to my pro co-ed sleepover column. Suffice to say, he was not in favor of such events. The Chicago Tribune wrote a story about the editorial scuffle, accompanied by a great photo of my father and me attempting to strangle each other. My notoriety spiked then and there; it’s been downhill ever since.
Actually, I’m not really concerned with fame per se. I don’t need my fifteen minutes immediately — I’m sure I’ll be involved in some political scandal later in life. What I’d really like right now is some FEEDBACK. Yes, feedback — that’s when you, the reader, tell me, the writer, what you think. Specifically about the topics addressed in my canon of columns, but I suppose you could share good Gtown gossip or discuss J. Lo’s views on marriage — really, anything but the war on Iraq. I do not want to hear what you have to say about that.
I’m sure President DeGoia would though! He also wants to know that you appreciate condoms and would like to see them displayed prominently on every door throughout this campus. Maybe you should write him to advocate a One Student, One Door, One Condom policy. Or you could send him a condom care package!
But I digress.
Perhaps you wonder what sort of feedback you should send. Well, the mail I currently get is a mix of the random, the bizarre, and encouraging comments from my mother. To give you an idea, the following are all actual, unedited quotes:
Fan #1: “I like reading your columns in the Hoya. I think they are funny.”If only all my fan mail were that eloquent.
Fan #2: “A person I know sent me some of your recent columns. I must say I was shocked — just completely shocked.”I directed the writer to UC Santa Barbara’s sex column, “The Wednesday Hump,” whose recent headlines include: “Use Water-Based Lubrication to Ease the Bump, Grind and Slide” and “Guys Go Nuts When Ladies Go Balls Out.” Hmm …
Fan #3: “Dude, ur stuff is hilarious. Keep rolling with it jules. Peas are from down under and carrots are good too.”I don’t understand the last sentence, but I’ll just assume the writer was doing drugs.
Fan #4: “I have been displeased with your articles for quite sometime now and I can't help but feel angry and displeased.”The writer went on to detail said displeasure for another two pages, which was great fun. My mother was convinced he just wanted to date me, which reminded me of the lie that all adults tell young girls when little boys are mean — “Don’t worry dear, he just likes you. That’s his way of showing it.” Um, mom? He just called me ugly and stupid. He does not like me.
In addition to that, I do occasionally receive date requests … although I guess that’s not a big deal given that Kansas’ columnist claims she’s regularly solicited for sex while BC’s columnist had to get an unlisted dorm and phone number.
I’m thinking more along the lines of constructive criticism, intriguing thoughts, or humorous stories about your sex life. That was a joke. I really don’t want to hear about your sex life. Well, unless the story is really good, in which case ... definitely send it.