Orientation week is an incredibly stressful, overscheduled time for the incoming freshmen. There is so much to worry about, from finding classes to navigating the dining halls. So, allow me to offer something to ease the anxieties of fall term at Dartmouth: my coochie.
I, too, was once a freshman. I stalked the incoming freshmen Facebook page, selecting my targets and rivals for the fall. I remember what it was like to arrive on campus and be overwhelmed by the biggest meat market north of Boston. I mean, I spent the entire frat ban getting piped in every room in Mid-Faye. But there is so much more that Dartmouth has to offer than sex with unexperienced and anxious freshmen. Specifically, having sex with me, a slightly more experienced and equally anxious sophomore. Think about it — I have a bigger dorm room than you anyway.
I get it, you want to spend time establishing yourself at Dartmouth for the next four years. But in all seriousness the relationships you build now are fleeting and your grades don’t realistically matter. The one thing that is forever is my desire to be absolutely and unapologetically railed by you, a ‘23.
I was just like you last year: meeting all these new people, trying all these new things, figuring out my academic plan for the fall. But when you’re my age, you’ll realize that getting that A isn’t the most important thing; it’s about getting that D. Your D. You, the ‘23 reading this now. I live in Mid Mass 445. Please blitz me at fuckme23s.22@dartmouth.edu if interested. We can work out scheduling on Outlook Calendar.
So in the spirit of everybody putting themselves out there these first weeks, I would really appreciate it if someone put themselves in there — and by there, I mean me.
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