This week officially marks my last semester of college. Although the road here has been incredibly long at times, it seems like it was just yesterday I entered this wonderful campus as a naïve young freshman.
It is nice to look back on my four years at LSU. I smile as I reminisce about my antics living in Herget Hall. I giggle when thinking of my memories as the Phi Mu houseboy.
I even get a little misty-eyed when I remember the wonderful summer I spent as an orientation leader.
Despite the desire to make even more wonderful memories, I have been given many signs that my time here is up.
During winter break I was frolicking around the club formerly known as Icon. I saw one of my dear little freshman friends and went to hug and greet him.
“Do you know what I love about you?” he asked.
I was hoping that he would say he loved my good looks, unending charm, my sense of humor or even the cute outfit I had just purchased from the thrift store.
What he actually said ripped my heart right out of my soul.
“You’re like a father to us all,” he said.
I had no clue how to take such a backhanded compliment. When did I become a papaw to my peers? What happened to the young, sexy, vivacious Steven that once turned heads and broke hearts?
Apparently he left along with the fake tan and highlights so characteristic of his teenage years.
Therefore, in an effort to avoid this column from becoming “woe is me because it’s my last semester,” I plan to share my secret weapons for staying hip during my final months at LSU.
First, I plan to eliminate 18 and 19 year olds from my love life.
I know it may sound a little loco excluding this trendy age group from my dating circle, but it actually makes perfect sense. If I don’t want them, it’s only going to make them want me more.
The young ones are tired of upperclassmen constantly hitting on them in bars. The quiet and mysterious ones are always the sexiest. If I’m not overtly pursuing the kiddies, I’ll be so mysterious not even Nancy Drew will be able to figure me out.
Second, I am refusing to contribute to the delinquency of minors. Nothing says geriatric like my freshman cousin telling his buddies that I’ll run to the store for them.
Third, I must stop lecturing my young friends about the right paths for them.
I guess it’s no longer hip to tell freshmen going out on a weeknight is bad or that true love waits.
The nuns from elementary and middle school always told me virginity was “happening.” Why should college be any different?
Finally, I’m not going to talk about my future plans anymore.
Nothing spells out “dork” more than those college students who actually have something to do after they graduate. What’s cooler than a free spirit who can save the world while waiting tables with a mass communication degree?
I refuse to spend my last semester trying to grow up and worrying about the future. I know God has something big in store for me, so why pout and count my gray hairs?
Instead, I choose to live with the mentality of a college student by savoring these special days until my time is officially up in May.