…or at least that’s what an editorial writer at the student newspaper, The Vanderbilt Hustler, thinks. Take a trip with me back to last year and get familiar with the being known as “The Vandy Man”:
So, every girl at Vanderbilt laments this at some point, praying steadfastly that this is just a Vanderbilt thing and not a modern America thing, but it still remains true: Too many Vandy guys are girls. Y’all have shown potential and we love that you’re intelligent, but it’s time to man up.
Last year, my roommate, a few of our friends and I made a list of things real men do not do. It’s time to dust it off for 2009.
Let’s start slow: No salads and no diet soda. Again, you’re not a girl, stop eating like one. While eating, remember: You probably shouldn’t be able to identify and compliment a girl with, “Nice Vineyard Vines bag.” This has happened. I was there.
Real guys don’t wear loafers or driving shoes. For $15 more, you can get the whole shoe.
And while the occasional pink or yellow dress shirt draws the eye of a lady or two, we’re grading on a curve here, and when a dozen guys stroll in like a box of Easter marshmallow Peeps, it’s a lot of look.
Unless you’re in black tie attire, no scarves – and really, even then, only if you’re holding a cigar and some scotch and it’s cold enough to cut a hole in some ice and pull a fish out.
And for the love of God, desist with the wearing of pants with tiny, tiny embroidered lobsters and ducks on them. Those are for the adorable tiny, tiny children in the J. Crew catalogue – not any guy who has a driver’s license.
Do you have bangs? You probably shouldn’t. If you can swing or flip your hair around, it’s probably too long. Tip of the hat to those who forsake the razor on occasion; playoff beards and ironic mustaches will always be touchstones of the college experience, so long as you avoid the horrifying wispy Shia LaBeouf facial hair.
You should know more about sports than, well, me. And golf and tennis don’t count. I should not be explaining to you what a 3-4 defense is. Core knowledge of football (pro and college), NCAA basketball and Major League Baseball required; at least passing knowledge of the NBA and NHL. Don’t fake it either. If, like, the Brawny paper towel man quizzed you tomorrow, you should know who and what these are: the Willis Reed Game, Pedro Feliz, “We want the ball and we’re gonna score,” and who led the Atlanta Braves to glory in the 1990s.
Real guys hunt and fish. Over break, I went grouper and snapper fishing offshore in the Gulf with my cousins; they wore camouflage pants, bled the fish and talked Southeastern Conference football. I know that’s popping and locking somewhere at Vanderbilt, but many of the gentlemen of Vandy could use an infusion. You know, mix a little rap and country into that indie music, Buddy Holly glasses bubble.
By the way, fighting is hot. Don’t forget that.
And yes, I realize all this is all wildly bitchy. But as my brother told me earlier, sometime the truth has to be delivered. I’m just the mailman, delivering the mail.
Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate….