Ah, freshman year. Mommy and daddy drive to campus with you and set up your totally kick-ass new dorm room. You hang a poster with a drinking reference on your wall, cause’ your a cool new edgy college kid. The parents give you a big kiss goodbye and shed a tear, while you try to rush them out the door so you can wreak havoc.
Your parents leave as you and your roommate (aka best friend fo’ lyfe) talk about how you’re gonna fuck shit up this year. College State ain’t ever gonna be the same after you’re done with it.
But the reality is, freshman year is usually the worst year of college.
You’re a new fish in a big ass pond. Your boys from high school aren’t there to tell everyone about that one time you went 14-0 on the beer pong table when Bobby’s parents were out of town (#dynasty). Nobody knows that you hooked up with Cindy the homecoming queen. No one knows you. No one cares about you.
It’s up to you to carve your own path and become a prominent figure on campus. As time goes on, you find balance, you settle into routines, and you know exactly how the perfect weekend should unfold.
So it’s opening weekend. With the energy of a fresh start, you knock on everyone’s door on your floor. Ah, this dude seems cool – “hey brah lets kick it later, I heard there’s a sick rager on Main street! Pregame at my spot.” Fist bumps ensue.
You knock at next door and some babes open up, “heyyyy girls, mind if we come in?” You walk in and observe a room decorated straight out of a magazine with Pinterest inspired DIY crafts and a collage of photos on each wall. For the memz. “So like… there’s a dope ass party down the street. You should roll with us”. They don’t have plans yet, so the young girls are eager to tag along. Scoorreeeee.
Next door over, some dude with cargo shorts opens the door with a Mountain Dew in hand, “oh… sorry wrong door”.
You and your new pals agree to meet in your room at eight. But before, you hit up that one guy with a super sweet fake Id to get you some booze. You throw the homie a ten spot to get a couple Four Lokos cause those things get you TURNT. And that’s what college is all about, wild times man!
Alright, pregame timeee! Your little crew crowds into your dorm room and you all sit in a circle to the tune of old Wiz Khalifa tracks. You eye the cute blonde from a few doors over, “so, uh, what’s your major”. She replies, “education” with a small smirk. My god this chick is yours for the taking. No doubt. Rock solid game. You guzzle your Four Loko and feel a strong buzz coming on. Mom ain’t here to rain on your parade.
Man, college is sick.
So 11 pm hits and the crew rolls out to the party. You hop down the staircase to avoid the gestapo RA’s, of course. You spit “air tight” game to blondie on the way to the party. In ten minutes she’ll be grinding on your dick, for sure.
And finally, in the distance you see a big house flooded with people and music blaring throughout the street. We made it! You roll up to the door like a boss, but a bouncer stops you. The fuck man? He goes, “five dollars” as you watch blondie strut through untouched. Just so you don’t lose her you whip out your wallet and the big dude at the door slaps a wristband on you. Proceed.
Party time excellent. You find blondie again and strike up some conversation. Money in the bank, at this point. You ask her question after question to keep the conversation rolling. Now, just four more hours of entertaining her until you’re balls deep in the dorm rooms. You got this.
Then, some cool handsome fella with big biceps walks over and gives her a smirk. She smirks back. You think, woah there champ, this is my girl for the night. Your defenses rise and you get a slight twinge of anxiety.
He reaches out his hand, whispers something in her ear, and you witness a motherfuckin’ magic trick – POOF, she’s gone. Disappeared into thin air. How the fuck that possible? She wanted your dick!
Ugh, whatever. You’re sure he was just showing her where the bathroom is. Yeah, she’ll be back. You awkwardly look around searching for your new friends in the crowded house. You feel like a lost child in the supermarket.
Ah, there’s Mike! “Brooo I thought I lost you, this party’s sick lets get some booze”. You make your way over to the keg and all the sudden two dudes hoist your legs in the air as you guzzle some delicious Milwaukee’s Best out of the nozzle. “Chug! Chug! Chug!” You make it 20 seconds, hop off, pound your chest, and give aggressive high fives to all around. “Anyone get a picture?!!”
Whew, the room is fucking spinning now. The music pulls you in as you make your way to the dance floor to drop some of your best moves. Waaiitttt a minute… There’s blondie. She’s grinding on that guy from earlier. How the..? Oh, he just felt her up! And she’s liking it?! A brief sadness washes over you. You head back to the keg to get even more obliterated.
Man fuck upperclassmen going after younger girls. Those dudes are weird.
You grab your bro and yell, “Next game on the BP table!” Finally, time for you to dominate this college shit and prove yourself as a super legit party animal. But your coordination is totally fucked and you don’t hit a cup. Everything is blurry and the room is spinning.
Next thing you know, you’re rubbing your eyes in your bed. You check the phone for the time – 10 am. What the fuck. Why are my jeans still on?
Congrats, you’ve just experienced your first shitty collegiate blackout. Don’t sweat it – it’s a rite of passage.
Welcome week proceeds in a similar fashion. Hopefully you’ve learned from your blackout experience and take it slightly easier the next time around. You’re a bit more chilled out and you don’t follow a girl around like a puppy.
You eventually settle into your group of dudes, decide to rush or not to rush, and figure out your class schedule. As the semester blows by, you meet more and more people and start to get a feel for the scene.
You score your first shitty fake ID from China and use it to get into a new realm of college – the bars. But bars aren’t that cool yet because you’re likely one of the youngest cats there. A month later the shitty fake ID gets confiscated from you and it’s back to square one.
You suffer through the trials and tribulations of freshman year – sneaking past RA’s, a messy roommate, and a seemingly limited pool of girls interested in you. You struggle a bit at first to find a balance between school and social life.
But hey, freshman year is a year to grow, and there is tons of fun to be had. Juvenile excitement still rides high, you meet some incredible new friends and your eyes are opened to this new realm of existence. You score a few sloppy hookups and revel in the glory the morning after. It’s a time to set the scene for future success.
Freshman year winds down and you reflect – man, remember that one party where you made out with that 9? Ha! You pat yourself on the back and reminisce in nostalgia. You power through finals week in May to head home for a summer of work and catching up with high school friends.
Congrats, you’ve made it through your freshman year. It only gets better from here.
Through the years, you meet more people. Your friends gain new friends and they become your friends as well. You roll into the party and realize you don’t have to pay. You start to hit the bars and expand your social circle. You’ve also figured out how to incorporate hitting the gym a few days a week into your schedule, and your new bench max gives you a world of confidence as you strut around campus.
And the ladies… You’ve suddenly discovered a secret – chicks dig older guys. As you get older, you realize how true and how much of a blessing this fact is. Confidence grows as you start tapping into girls from different venues and backgrounds, cultivating a player lifestyle.
One day you show up on campus in August for another fall semester with the realization that it is your last. It’s a bittersweet moment. Where the fuck has the time gone? You think back to how far you’ve come since freshman year and chuckle.
If you’ve played your cards right throughout your time in undergrad, senior year will be the culmination of everything that is great about college. It’s the fourth quarter – go hard or go home. But instead of a fresh zeal to conquer, there’s an ease and comfort about this year – you’ve already laid the groundwork and built your empire. It is now time to reap the spoils of being a motherfucking king.
Your last welcome weekend, a blissful holiday. You and the guys you live with plot to throw a banger to set the tone. You set your eyes on the ever-so-sweet prize, freshman girls. You deploy the youngins to get the word out about your party. They’re pawns at your service. You should totally have an army of henchmen by now.
So Friday hits, and you step to the liquor store to grab a personal bottle to keep nestled in your room for when the beer inevitably runs out. You and the boys also make a trip to the beer distributor to grab a couple kegs. The Beast is on special so you fill up two kegs. Tell everyone it’s Bud Light. No one knows the difference.
Day drinking ensues because you’ve got nothing better to do. The sun and your warm buzz puts you in a perfect state of player zen, which sets your psyche up for success later. As the night approaches, the friends come over first to get some intimate party action going before the place erupts.
All the sudden 10 hits and the joint fills up. You instruct your big friend to be the bouncer and slide him some cash for doing the wonderful service of keeping weak-ass dudes out in order to keep a good ratio. The line forms at the door and eager freshman whip out their wallets eager to hand you their money for entrance into your kingdom.
You stand from a vantage point on the stairs with a friend and scope out the potential walking through. Grinning, you plot your attack. You make your way over to a sexy blonde and some non-aggressive dude. Wading through the crowd, you don’t break eye contact with the blonde. She’s transfixed by your elder presence and gets a sense that you’re the man around this place.
You reach out and grab her hand, “come on, let’s get you a drink”. You could say anything and she’ll leave the freshman dude for you. “You must live here”, she asks in an innocent little voice. She’s wowed by your authority and has a look of desire sparkling in her eye. You bring her outside for a brief moment and kiss her.
“Hey, I’ve got a bottle up in my room, let’s a take a shot”, you tell her as you grab her hand without really giving her a chance to say no. She wants to be led. As you get up to your room, she looks around and sizes it up. After pouring the shots you hand her one, say “cheers to college” (to get her into the mindset of college recklessness), clink the glasses and down the delicious potion.
Immediately after, a heavy make-out session ensues on your bed as you feel your way around her fresh anatomy. You go for the bang but she refuses just yet – after all, she only got here 20 minutes ago.
No sweat, you give her grand big kiss and lead her back downstairs. As an elder player, you understand the dynamics of pulling from a party and ditch her. There are 50 other smoke-shows in the joint.
You work your way around the party to each group as introductions are made. “Ah, you live here, I’ve heard about you!” Yeah, that’s me.
Eventually a girl you know rolls over, “Omg hey! You have to meet my friends!” The girl introduces you to five other girls she knows and you flirt with them. You bring one of them outside to get some fresh air and score a quick make-out. You get the digits and bounce.
Rinse and repeat. Talk to more girls, get more numbers. You know you can’t fuck them all, so putting some on the back burner is always a solid move. Then blondie eyes you with a look of jealousy. You go back to her and say, “hey I didn’t forget about you, let’s dance”. You lead her to the dance floor and she rhythmically rubs her ass on your cock. Things get heated and you kiss her again. You feel her up.
Out of your peripheral vision you eye the poor freshman lad who looks defeated and empty-handed. You sigh and think, “he’s a freshman, the young buck will learn”. You think, hey I remember those days. Your brief moment of reflection ends and you grab blondies hand and place it on your half-chub.
Game time, “let’s do another shot”. The two of your trounce up the stairs and proceed to your room. Before the shot can even get poured, you two just go after each other like a couple of starving animals. Seeing you mack on other girls lit a primitive fire in her mind and her pants fly off like NBA warm-up gear. After some brief foreplay you’re digging her out as you hear her 18-year-old moans echo like a melody while she experiences her first taste of college player dick.
Eventually, you both finish and let out deep sighs of relief combined with joy and ecstasy. After a quick laugh, you clean up, get dressed and head back down to the party.
You see the young freshman stumbling around trying to throw a ping-pong ball in a red solo cup and think, “man, fuck beer pong”. The older you get, the more annoying the sport becomes.
You spend the rest of the night mingling with every girl you see and scoring more numbers. By the nights end, you bring blondie back up to bed and bang her out once more.
You wake up in the morning with an ass-naked blonde piece sleeping next to you. 10 am? Gym time. You give her the boot and proceed throughout your day.
The first few weeks are golden. Being a senior player, if you’ve played your cards right, you are literally a magnet to fine poon. You rack up notches like it’s nothing and walk around with the coolness of Hank Moody.
Classes start and it’s standard game – you sit next to the cute girl and get her number. When you go to Starbucks for a cup of Joe between classes, you pay for a small coffee and get a large because the barista is good friends of yours from a sister sorority. It’s the little things.
A fine balance has been struck between school, personal projects, the gym, and your social life.
Things have certainly changed. Instead of wondering if your fake is gonna work, you walk into the bar like a god and get dapped up by half the patrons. You and the bartender exchange greetings as he pours you a free shot. You’re an elder in the bar and any discomfort you ever had has been erased.
Sometimes you step back and reflect, “where did the time go?” You’ve come so far that you hardly recognize yourself from freshman year. A comfort with life has been struck as you’ve progressed from lowly freshman to big man on campus.
This is the logical profession IF you play your cards right. You have to be tactical and spend each year setting yourself up for future success so that you can climb the social ladder and sit atop your throne by your senior year as chicks are presented to you as tribute. The view’s nice up here, I promise.
Girls come easy, drinks flow heavy, and good times roll.