The Gentlemen Prefer CoEds Club
Suppose one day an ad appeared around your campus, going something like this :
The Gentlemen Prefer CoEds Club is dedicated to promoting healthy sexual (and perhaps even amorous!) relationships between collegiate freshwomen or sophomores and wealthy, successful gentlemen in their thirties. By the time you're a junior you should probably focus on your textbooks, but before that you owe it to yourself to experience as much of the world as possible - and how could you do that better than hanging by the arm of a guy with a yacht ? Or private plane ?
The Gentlemen Prefer CoEds Club doesn't condone outright prostitution, but let's face it : if you lie with one of the local dogs you do get their fleas (unless you're really unlucky and get lice). That's a universal principle of the world : whatever he got, a little's gonna rub off on you. Why should that necessarily be gross and unpleasant ? Let chocolate truffles and pearl necklaces rub off on you instead!
The Gentlemen Prefer CoEds Club offices are located at 42 Whatever street. Drop by one day - while we don't offer free contraceptive pills we do have gourmet cookies flown in twice a week from Paris by our alumni, and our generous sponsors allow for fresh lobster breakfast every day. Just think about it, lobster that was happily swimming in a cage off Cape Cod as you went to bed last night is happily swimming in sauce on your plate today!
Would you go ? And more importantly, should you not see such an ad around your campus, would you realise that just means you're stuck in a shithole which not only allows you to piss away your time pointlessly and waste your youth, but outright forces you to ?
Think about it, the GPCEC probably organises yearly nekkid dinners - hot smart rich guys in tuxedos gathered around an endless table covered in the most refined delicious known to woman, served under dim lights by numerous impeccable waiters in white gloves, flanked on either side by completely nude girls roughly your age. Completely nude except for the Prada shoes and the Tiffany jewelry, of course.
A youth is a terrible thing to waste. While you're stuck in filthy dorms and spend your leisure moments "checking your privilege", much smarter girls actually enjoy that very privilege you keep checking. Incidentally, doesn't this strike you as rather infantile, doesn't it unpleasantly hark back to that summer spent checking your wee-wee back in kindergarten, as if checking it a thousand times a day may maybe convince it to grow and flesh out into a pee-pee ?
You're never going to be nineteen again. In fact, you have exactly one year. Make the best of it.
Make the best of it, because the one thing all the loser dykes posing as "feminists" so they don't have to confront their overweight, bankrupt circumstances have in common, the one thing all the angry bank clerks and web "journalists" with phds have in common, the one thing all the sad, anguished, poor and desperate middle class of that once great country has in common is the sad, burdensome knowledge that they have in fact wasted that year, because they didn't have a GPCEC chapter on their shitty, pointless campus. They've wasted it, and it's never coming back, and that's that.
That's that, for them. Don't let it be that for you. Act now.
