The Rose Parade
Written by Bwog Staff
Bwog’s senior year correspondent from the class of CC ’12, reminds us of how good it felt to sneer at the kids who got candygrams and roses on Valentine’s Day.
Thanks to the efforts of one environmentally-conscious freshman biology teacher, it was announced this year that for the first time since its inception, the annual Valentine’s Day rose sale at my school would not be held by Student Council due to the environmental and global costs of procuring roses in February. Instead, STUCO has begun hawking dubiously named “Love Sacks” to send on February 14th, the contents of which are as yet unknown. This event sparked outrage among certain members of the student body, namely the girls who every year pretend to be surprised at the roses they receive in each class before daintily blushing and giggling while everyone looks on in disgust.
I’ve never sent a rose and neither have any of my closest friends. They’re all awkward boys who spend more time talking to each other over Xbox Live than in real life. We refer to Valentine’s Day as “VD Day,” although most of us aren’t having the sex that would put us at risk for venereal disease anyway. While conservative parents and watchdog groups might be frantic with the assumption that high schoolers are sex fiends exchanging oral sex in the computer lab during free periods, I’ve yet to see evidence of it with any of my friends. And at this point most of them have stopped trying – it’s best to just wait until college when there’ll surely be a girl who can appreciate someone who knows all the words to Elliott Smith’s XO or is into Japanese pro wrestling…right?
Unfortunately, of course, we know that isn’t always the case. One of my unlucky-in-love guyfriends started college last fall and we were both sure that his fortunes would change. Alas, he still spends his nights with Ashley Blue instead of Ashley from his Monday night drawing class. A couple weekends ago he hosted “Ladies Night” in his dorm room; I was the only girl that showed up and we ended up going out to a show at a neighboring university where we scoped out young, impressionable co-eds, none of whom we approached.
I was taken to see “Superbad” three times upon its release in theatres. I guess it depicted life, liberty and the pursuit of sex (happiness?) in high school accurately enough, but in further discussions with my friends we all agreed that there were certain fundamental flaws. To us it seemed almost improbable that Seth could have a chance with Jules, or that Evan would have a near-score with Becca. “These are the kinds of things that give me false hope,” one of my friends remarked.
For the record, I do have a significant other. I’m lucky to have bypassed the high school system and ended up with a boyfriend already in college, one with less than fond memories of his love life in high school. “It always seemed like I never had a chance with all the interesting or pretty girls because they all had older boyfriends who were already out of high school,” he tells me. “But then I got to college and all of a sudden I was one of those guys.”
Perhaps there’s hope for my lovelorn friends yet.