Clemson is a pipeline for attractive people. Everywhere you look, there’s a beautiful boy sporting a polo shirt, a baseball cap and a pair of khaki shorts. Far away from my North Virginia home, I quickly found myself swooning over guys who would hold the door open for me. I had to admit that I was extremely excited to meet guys who fit the stereotype of the well-mannered southern gentleman.
My first experience with guys at college, however, proved to be quite contrary to my expectations.
I was walking into my last class of the day when a cute boy held the door open for me. Let’s call him Trey. His appearance was that of my expectations for a southern gentleman: short blonde hair, smooth tan skin and easy on the eyes. Trey sparked up the typical first meeting, small-talk conversation about where we’re living, where we’re from, what we’re majoring in, etc. He was just as curious about my background as I was about his and I quickly found myself attracted to him.
Since we both live in the same dorm, we walked back from class together. He invited himself over to my room to watch the Olympics. I know this is stranger danger 101: don’t let horny college boys you’ve just met into your room. But it was 1 p.m. on a Wednesday, what was the worst that could happen?
Obviously, everything.
He sat down in the middle of our futon. I sat down on the farthest side away from him, hoping not to give him any ideas, however Trey navigated our small futon with ease and slowly slid closer to me. Then when I leaned forward to change channels, he slid his arm around me faster than Usain Bolt ran the 100. Given his lack of self-awareness, he did not pick up on my extreme discomfort and he then proceeded to playfully tickle me. I decided to try to distract him from making any more forward progress with his hands by asking him to tell me something about himself.
“I have a Guinness World Record,” he tells me. Okay great, finally something interesting. “I have a Guinness World Record for the world’s smallest penis.”
Maybe I am just old fashioned, but that pickup line definitely did not strike my fancy. A little bit of food for thought here: don’t reference your mini-junk on a first date— even if you think it’s funny. Honestly, don’t do it on the second date either. Actually, maybe never mention it at all.
At this point, you’re probably thinking I’m stupid for not kicking him out of my room after that comment. In retrospect, I probably should have. But if I’m completely honest, I wasn’t quite sure how to get him to leave without sounding incredibly bitchy and prudish And trust me, that’s an image I didn’t want to have at a new school.
Trey then pulled up my Instagram and proceeded to stalk my account in front of me. He came across a picture I had posted a week before at the beautiful Italian coast and I just so happened to be in a bikini in the photo. Trey then proceeds to tell me, and yes, this is word for word, “Damn Mollie, you have nice cans!”
This was not the proper polo wearing guy I had pictured.
No.
Outraged, I impulsively smacked him as hard as I could with the water bottle I was holding.
“Well what did you want me to say? You have nice breasts?” he said.
At this point, I felt like the girl being “swooned” in an Adam Sandler movie. Even after I impulsively dashed my water bottle off against his hairline, he still didn’t take the hint to leave. I mean, you have to admire his perseverance here.
I then came up with an excuse that I had to go to the library for computer help and we walked to the elevator. Once in the elevator, I pressed his floor for him to make sure he got off and did not try to tag along. I ended up telling this story to some of the people on my hall and they have not let me forget it since. We now have this running joke about cans and it has been nice to find some humor in the perverted experience.
So to my fellow freshman, don’t invite a guy back to your dorm at 1 p.m. on a Wednesday. Seriously, don’t let college preconceived expectations cloud the reality of a situation. Because you know the best part of this story? I still get to see him three days a week in class, every year for four years because he’s in my major. Woohoo.r