The GF Bomb

The “cutting-edge conservative commentary” of Cornell University slammed my column; I take this to mean that I am doing something right. “Sounding the Trumpet” accused me of being lazy, to which I respond that I view laziness as a continuum. There are many degrees of laziness. Some have refined it to an art; others dabble.

For instance, when I was dancing in France and had the choice between going to rehearsal and sunning my bosom on the sandy shores of Cannes, I chose the latter. Those at the Trumpet may consider this behavior remiss, but had any of them ever been a ballerina in southern France, they too may have thrown assiduity to the wind and basked in the luxuriance of sloth, squinting into the sunlight at yachts gliding by and sipping a G&T with cucumber.

I was also charged with the ubiquitous crimes of rambling and being silly: true and truer. In addition, they lamented that The Sun had once produced the likes of E.B. White, and now they are producing the likes of — well — me. I happen to rather admire E.B., especially his children’s stories, but then again, that is probably because I am silly. Yet, I really parted from the E.B. camp when I discovered that he had co-authored a book entitled Is Sex Necessary? If I were to write such a book it would consist of one page on which would be inscribed the simple word — YES. Perhaps I would add the phrase, “especially during long and dreary Ithacan winters.” (Honestly, E.B., you should know better.)

All Cornellians understand that the only way to make it through the last months of the fall semester is to acquiesce to the pressures of coupledom. This accounts for the strange time frame between fall break and Halloween, which I like to call The Scramble for Affection. ’Tis the season for pairing off; don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. Nearly every morning this past week, as I have been crossing Ho Plaza dodging the barrage of paparazzi and leafleters, I have had the same conversation with various male acquaintances. There has been a sudden rash of boys dropping the GF Bomb.

I once dated a boy merely because his apartment was on route between my two morning classes and I would stop by to defrost, have a quick kiss and cuddle, hurriedly down a mug of coffee and be on my way. What I mean to say is that I completely understand and sympathize with the need for warmth and affection in the desolate landscape that is Ithaca. Also around fall break, students have exhausted the amenities of Collegetown, growing tired of the same three restaurants, three bars and three attractive people in their circle of friends. Such factors account for the alarming rate at which the males of this campus have been dropping the loathed GF Bomb with an air of pompous feigned resignation.

As the temperature drops, so do my standards, and I bitterly regret the disdain with which I rejected potential suitors. Preparing for the long hard winter ahead, most students have picked their companions and are ready to hibernate. This winter-bond is impossible to break, and if you wait too long and are too fastidious in your selection, you may be left out in the literal and proverbial cold.

I, for one, limit myself to only one disastrous romantic endeavor per semester and have already filled my quota. So the natural way to pass the remains of this term is barred, but celibacy and I are well-acquainted friends. (It may have something to do with my Protestant upbringing.) Anyway, I have developed ways in which to combat the long and snowy season alone.

1. Think of it logically. We only have two more weeks until Thanksgiving and then two more weeks after that until winter break, and who wants to be tied down over winter break? Five weeks apart would surely undermine whatever groundwork those new happy couples have painstakingly emplaced. Mwahahaha…

2. Netflix is my tried and true companion. Who needs a real relationship when you can voyeuristically live through the dramas of much more attractive people? If you can’t afford Netflix, maybe try the library. I hear they have quite the selection of films.

3. Subscribe to various magazines: The New Yorker and Vanity Fair for your coffee table, but, more importantly, to a trashy gossip rag. Even the beautiful, rich and famous can’t keep their lives together. I don’t know if this is encouraging or discouraging, but the pictures are funny.

4. Go to the gym. Nahhh… just kidding!

5. Baking from scratch relieves all kinds of tension. You don’t have to go Martha-domestic or anything, but kneading a large lump of chocolatey batter is terribly satisfying.

6. Develop your hobbies: knit a sweater or learn a language (preferably one in which you are not already officially enrolled).

7. Find a gay cuddle buddy. Many years ago I said, “every diva deserves a gay boyfriend,” and I firmly believe that. Unfortunately for me, I think I might have scared off my potential gay boyfriends by being overeager. Desperation is an unbecoming perfume.

8. If you can’t land a gay boyfriend, invest in a body pillow. I suggest that you hide it under your bed when you have company, because anyone who has ever needed to buy one knows its meaning.

9. Because I am so commitment-phobic, I won’t even get a pet. But if you can handle it, pets are good. I go to the barn and pretend that all the animals are my pets for an hour and then I go home. Really, the barn is extremely therapeutic. The polo ponies have the sweetest designs shaven into their winter coats.

10. Vote. I thought I’d throw that out there.

11. If all else fails, you could consider studying. Use this alone time to boost your GPA.

For all those lucky enough not to need to follow these measures … bah-humbug!

Claire Readhead is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at clr39@cornell.edu [3]. Tarnishing the Tiara appears alternate Mondays.