college parties like anthropological experiments . . .

Dear anonymous college freshman,

No, I don't go to this school anymore. No, I don't care about your inside jokes. This is what I know: that clique you've formed will fall apart, that girl who's in it is not going to fall in love with you, there is no novelty to what you're saying, but you don't know or care about that, at all.

You probably find yourself unattractive, but if you could get your obnoxiously adolescent lust under control, you'd be fuckable for a wide range of women who would teach you the things you inevitably need to know in order to get that girl in your clique to fall in love with you, and stay with you.

You're not going to learn very much about women, or life, or even school, by standing in a kitchen yelling at the top of your lungs while you drink unidentifiable alcohol out of an ironically purchased floaty cup.

All that lifestyle will show you is that women are fickle, you are lonely, alcohol really can substitute for meaning, and life is full of strange rituals that have nothing to do with gaining actual happiness. In the meantime, you will not experience those life lessons in the actually fun ways of fucking, crying, thinking, and laughing.

The sad thing about it is, you could. You're young, attractive, and intelligent. You could get much further in life by avoiding the scene, being direct, asking questions, and making moves. This is, trust me, far more effective than going along with the social flow and waiting for the right people to develop that attitude first and then aim in it your direction.

It's going to take a lot of hungover pain before you figure this stuff out, at which point you'll be significantly less young, attractive, or truly intelligent. But you will be having what you think is fun, which is so depressing.

So let me know when you're a senior, because right now, you, my dear, have no idea who you are.