The phone hasn’t stopped vibrating since late Thursday night. Text messages and missed calls litter its memory, causing inboxes to flood with ignored information, preventing things one actually needs to know from coming through.
One text message reads, “So, do you want to come back to the house tonight?”
Another, from someone who’s been trying to get a response for a couple of months, inquires, “What’s it going to take to get you to hang out with me?”
Creepy voicemails from a local who ended up with the sacred number thanks to pity are left unheard; text messages from an ex with a vendetta are promptly deleted. Eventually, most of the unwanted suitors taper off their efforts, but the evil cycle begins once more every Friday morning.
Unless you’re a hermit, you’ve been one of the people in this situation. You’re either lucky enough to have the charm to get multiple people fawning over you at once, or you’re deluded enough to think getting the cell phone number of said charmer means you’re eventually going to date him or her. Maybe you’ve been both.
Either way, the desperation that stems from a single, drunken conversation is usually associated with the fairer sex – since we’re all obviously so miserable being single and only came to college to find significant others, anyway. However, judging from girls I know and stories I’ve heard, Jay-Z knew what he was talking about when he said, “Ladies is pimps, too.”
Now, that isn’t to say that my friends and I are walking the streets of North Philly in long, furry purple coats, selling the services of our male friends to assorted passers-by – though that could be kind of fun, I guess.
I’m not saying we’re players, either. If you read my column two weeks ago, you know I would be the last person on this campus to play mind games with anyone, let alone with multiple guys at once. My brain would go into logic overload.
A female pimp, in my sense of the word, breaks all annoying stereotypes associated with girls in relationships.
She’ll give you her number, and she’ll text you back, but she doesn’t care if you respond. She reads your messages asking to hang out, laughs with her friends about them and never responds because she has something better to do. She’ll hook up with you, neither expecting nor wanting to hear from you again, and she’ll be slightly disgusted when you call her multiple times the next day. She feels no obligation to you unless she’s in a relationship with you and will be turned off when you take offense to the fact that someone else got her number.
She’s not easy. She’s empowered.
This new breed of woman quickly coming out of the woodwork has finally mastered the trait that makes men so frustrating to us: detachment.
Take, for example, a story I heard the other day. One of my female friends was minding her business in the basement of a house party and made some snarky comment about a guy’s religion. The guy then proceeded to follow her around the house for the rest of the night, ask her friends why she was ignoring him, miraculously get her number and continuously text her.
Guys, for the love of God, please don’t do this. If we wanted someone to follow us around, we would buy dogs.
After all, unless we find someone good enough, why stick to talking to just one person? We can juggle; multitasking is a good life skill, after all.
Another friend of mine was recently rotating three different guys: a Temple student with a girlfriend, a Drexel kid who would disappear for weeks at a time and a 26-year-old living in South Philly.
Am I just sheltered, or does it seem like girls haven’t done this before? Are we finally learning to (gasp!) date the way men do? Gentlemen, watch your backs because sooner or later, students surpass their teachers.
Libby Peck can be reached at elizabeth.peck@temple.edu.
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