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To The Guy At The Party

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Chapman chapter.

To the guy at the party, it’s nice to meet you, too. To the guy at the party, I don’t think a party like this is really an appropriate place to shake hands so formally, but I’ll go along with it. To the guy at the party, your hand is warm in mine, and I can tell by the way you hold on just a little longer than necessary that there’s something here.

To the guy at the party, I thought we had something.

So that was my first party, and I think I understand now. Because right after you shook my hand and experienced what I thought was a connection between your green eyes and mine, you moved on to the next girl standing right next to me, and I could see it happen all over again.

It’s my second week of college now, and I think I know how things work; I shake all the hands of guys and am not surprised when it goes exactly the same way with the next girl and the next. And I’m not blaming you; it’s quite the opposite actually. I’m surprised by my own ability to think I saw a spark with one guy, then be able to experience the same thing with your friend, or his friend.

I’ve come to realize that parties are pretty weird. I meet person after person, and although it’s not always, it’s pretty often that my group of friends will run into a group of guys, and there’ll inevitably be some sort of click between two people. I don’t know if it’s because of the contents of my cup or the lighting in this room, but it’s weird that we, as students in college, give ourselves so readily to each other physically, but are so closed off from each other emotionally. We’ll go back to your room or mine, and we’ll do things that I used to think I’d only do with someone important to me. I’ll leave the next morning with all the hurriedness, indifference and slight awkwardness of two people who are definitely not important to each other.

To the guy at the party, at that first party we went to: I’m not complaining. I’m not blaming you or victimizing myself, because I recognize that not only I, but almost everyone around me is a constant participant in this phenomenon that we call “hookup culture.”

I’m just saying, to all the guys at all the parties: I guess we have something?