When I came to college, I assumed that the male species would finally have reached the level of maturity that it severely lacked in high school. Soon enough, I realized I was mistaken. Now, three months into the term, I've discovered that, of all the guys roaming around campus, four stereotypes stand out:
Mister Technology: He indicates his interest by initiating endless MSN conversations. For a while, he may even upgrade to texting. He enjoys discussing anything from molecular biology to fine art (it's McGill, after all) but recoils when confronted with the possibility of actually spending time with the object of his instant messaging fixation. He definitely has a knack for making her wonder if she is so repulsive that, though he admires her intellect, he would rather have these discussions through the intermediary of the computer screen. When, somehow, the two end up together, they are surrounded by a myriad of friends. His, because he cannot act without a posse; hers, because she is starting to wonder if she is insane and needs confirmation that she isn't. And everyone knows it's a downward spiral when friends get involved. His interest in the girl is obvious, and with the inevitability of alcohol, his tongue loosens up. He starts to make outlandish statements, referring to her sexuality, or his, or theirs. The next morning, he stops talking to her completely. That's when the girl actually might start listening to her friends' unanimous advice: "just drop it". When (and if) they see each other again, usually on neutral ground, such as a party, he tries to be funny, charming and heroic. Then he drops off the face of the earth, never to be heard from again. Newsflash, Mr. Technology. You can't be her hero when you can't even be her friend.
College Kid: He looks like a well-rounded university student. He's cute, smart and can actually have a face-to-face conversation with the girl. In a perfect world, he would be the perfect guy. But this isn't the Cannes Film Festival. This is Montreal. Things start to get spoiled when the girl makes her traditional impact and he falls. From then on, she catches him staring at her- once, twice, three times- from across the room. He might even get bold and steal a kiss or two. But nothing happens and the "relationship" stagnates. He can easily get her number, but doesn't call. He doesn't even add her on Facebook. And the next time she sees him, he is still staring at her, smirking, while he makes out with a random chick. To sum things up, here goes the story. He talks, she smiles. He stares, she flirts. Then, he runs away and her friends run after him waving a saucepan, ready to attack.
Surfer Dude: He is oh-so-blasé. In looks, he's above average, but hardly a sex god. Regardless, there's something about him that makes the girls, most girls at any rate, go crazy. Maybe that's because you can picture him on a beach in California better than in a classroom, sporting a surfboard rather than the heavy-duty textbooks professors seem to worship. Superficially, he seems to be unaware of the attention he's receiving, to the point that objective outsiders begin to wonder what's wrong with him. But the truth is, he's fully aware of the effect he produces; he just doesn't act upon it. He drifts through life as though he is still on some beach, most likely a desert island, or at least not one graced by the presence of girls. A little advice, Surfer Dude: please, do something with anybody! Just because it's university, it doesn't mean that we don't like to gossip anymore.
The "Man": Now, he is the sex god. At McGill, there are boys, and then there are "men". The boys are scaredy-cats, out on their own for the first time and completely lost without mommy's hand to hold on to. Their ineptitude can be explained by either insecurities that eat them alive, or by a mere lack of experience. Now the "men" are at the other end of the spectrum. They only want that universal "one thing", and usually get it merely because they are accustomed to doing so. They are smooth talkers, successful charmers, and the real sharks to watch out for in the ocean of academia. Among the "men", there is the "Man". He is the one who can afford to be obnoxious and downright rude. He doesn't need to lay out the charm, because regardless of what he does, the star will still have his groupies. He is with girls- different girls- all throughout the day. Oh, and guess what? He has a girlfriend or two back home. But why on earth would that stop him? The "Man" is best described as Adonis with the temperament of Achilles. He isn't just hot, he's on fire. And he ravages everything on his path. But at worst, the horde of girls scorched by him may take solace in recalling the disastrous fate of these mythological Greeks.
Ladies, what can we do? Well, I'm afraid this isn't my domain of expertise anymore. But if you have any suggestions, please feel free to share them. For my part, the answer is quite simple, as expressed through my cell phone's banner: Brands Before Boys!
Let's just all go shopping.