Something Crazy to Tell the Grandkids

Article   Wellesley’s Statement   My Response to Wellesley   Hate Mail

> —-Original Message Follows—-
> From: [Name redacted]
> To: ‘Sunjay Dixit’
> Subject: RE: FW: from a wellesley GIRL
> Date: Thu, 8 Mar 2001 21:28:20 -0500
>
> Dear Jay,
>
> Thank you so much for responding to
> my e-mail. I wish, however that you
> would take my comments to heart — namely
> in the most disturbing facts about the article:
>
> 1. The turbo charged erotic lesbian: Where is there
> one healthy, balanced,or romantic detail about women’s relationships
> on campus? The most blatant examples are the one woman who comments
> that lesbianism on campus is due to some “prison effect” where, as I
> said in my e-mail, women turn on each other like incestual
> beasts. The second is in the statement where the
> woman talks about how her and her friend’s get
> drunk one night and all start making out.
> Other than that, you cite the Dyke Ball and the
> “Naked Party” - both of course, hyper sexualized
> atmospheres. I am not saying that what you
> reported is not true, because it IS! What I
> am upset about is the presentation of facts,
> which as you probably well know in journalism,
> is about 75% of the story.
> You blatantly leave out any sweet or endearing
> qualities of lesbian life, and yes, there are many.
>
> 2. The Male Cast: The professor you interviewed,
> Randolph, is such a disappointing example of
> professors at Wellesley, and not at all representative
> of the academic environment. Contrary to his belief, it
> is not commonplace for students to bang professor’s in
> their offices. I mean, the young man who worked
> in the food service that went up into student’s rooms to have a
> quickie between meals? And the male student that claimed that he slept
> with 20+ women? You make it seem like we couldn’t even eat a meal or
> call Campus Police without having to snatch a male employee for a
> quick fuck.
>

blog post: sWellesley Girl

I’m Coleen. Welcome to A Day in the Life of a Lunatic. I try to update
this daily with mostly meaningless verbiage that I hope is atleast
entertaining, if not grammatically correct and fraught with typos. For
the usual introductory blurb and background information on me,
checkout the first page in the loony archives. (And if you’re looking
for my dream journal entries, you’re in the wrong place. I know, the
organization here is a little screwed up, but I didn’t intend to have
an online journal, let alone two, when I started this site.)

Okay, so I come into work this morning and what do I find in my inbox?
A message from Haji Paji, which is in turn a forward, signaling me to
the fact that Rolling’s Stone’s current issue has a huge article in it
titled:

College Life 2001: The Highly Charged Erotic Life of the Wellesley Girl

Yeah, “Wellesley Girl” was in red, just like that.

At first I was a bit ruffled at the apparent, sensationalist premise
of the article. But what can you expect? It’s Rolling Stone, after
all; you don’t exactly pick it up for the prose. I think the only
Rolling Stone I ever read was an old copy that a friend gave me to
read when I got my wisdom teef out and couldn’t do anything but read
media slop. Oh but what fun slop it is. I especially like the first
picture in the article… I’m not being sarcastic for once; the girl
is hot! Mmm mmm. Plus she’s got little boobs, so she gets extra points
from me.

Anyway, I read a scanned-in copy of the article (or tried, to anyway;
one of the pages doesn’t render and the ends of the pages are all
chopped off. Can I just say: hack job?) and it was better than I
expected. Sure, they made Wellesley out to be a brothel where most
women were either sex-starved husband-seekers or rugby-playing dykes,
but there’s a ring of truth to things. HOWEVER. There’s that
particular ring of truth to almost all undergraduate institutions. And
of course an all-women’s college will necessarily have a different
dynamic than that of say, an all-men’s school or a co-ed university.
Size, gender distribution (especially when so stark), location,
academic rigor… all that will play a huge role in the school’s…
personality, shall we say. Goes without saying.

And there are stupid chicks everywhere. Even at Wellesley, where
everyone’s pretty much smart book-wise. I remember being in the Senate
bus, which is a partly-school subsidized bus into Boston, with my
still good buddy Michelle, and rolling our eyes at a first-year
gabbing about Leonardo de Caprio. Yes, ladies and jellyspoons, even at
sWellesley.

So the stupid chicks in the article followed around some male visiting
students on campus with cow-eyes or found campus po’ (campus police,
those hogs) attractive (!) or went there to become an MIT doctor’s
wife. Gag. But these things happen. Everywhere, sadly I say.

Wellesley’s a funny place. I think that’s one of the things that
bothered me about the article: that the writer was probably a guy and
he didn’t go to Wellesley as most of us went there. As a woman and
full time. That makes a big difference. You ask me to explain what it
was like there and I really can’t explain so that you’ll know… but
if I talk to any Wellesley alum, we both get that look on our faces
and say, “Well. You know how it was. It was… Wellesley.” It’s very
strange. I had a good time there but would never want to go back. And
who were all these chicks getting laid all the time? Man. It was one
lonely row of years I had there. All I did was study. I’m not kidding.
I saw nary a true weekend while I lived on campus. I did party a lot
in junior year, but then, I was “studying” abroad in France.

Okay. So that I will not go down in history as the Biggest Hypocrite
Ever, I will admit that I once did such a random thing as have a
three-some with a professor and my ex-girlfriend, but a) he was never
my professor, b) it was the night before I graduated, and c) he did
not have a wife and kids in tow, and c) it was on my own terms. It was
for kicks. You know, something crazy to tell the grandkids, something
wack to say goodbye to the momentous undergrad years with. I don’t
think I would have put myself into a weird situation by doing
something like that outside of the limits I listed above. But to each
her own. Every situation is different; even professors are people (I
used to freak out running into a prof in the bathroom. You pee? I
would be thinking, muttering hello and washing my hands beside her).