To preface, my brother is a tool. During a recent conversation with said 16-year-old, he remarked that his girlfriend was “stupid.” I kicked into sagacious older-sister mode. “How can you date someone who you think is stupid?” He responded, “Do I really have to answer that question?” The implication: What this female lacked in Algebra II skills, she made up for by being: “Lara Croft-Tomb Raider hot.”
I judged my sibling for his lack of class until I realized that his shallow reasoning was the stuff of weighty psychological theory.
When I took Human Sexuality (a deceptively difficult class I recommend P/Ning), we studied the concept of mate value: the idea that people can compensate for lacking in certain traits by excelling in others.
As part of this theory, each person is assigned a certain worth and must find a potential mate with an equal or lesser worth.
Psych professors use a card analogy to explain this notion. Lucky ducks walk around with an ace, poor bastards a two.
Perhaps the only thing I left Human Sex with – besides a lowered GPA -was this nagging question: Must we play the hand we’re dealt or can we delay cashing in our chips and appreciate our mate value?
Ever the optimist, I choose to believe the latter. A short list of suggestions on how to use Northwestern’s campus to improve your mate status follows:
nScore an unlimited parking pass. Yes, that instant connection with someone is wonderful, the minute you both realize that you know the words to Luke Wilson’s toast in “Old School.” But, really, what could be more attractive than a mate who could park wherever they damn well pleased? According to Wilson, “true love is hard to find. So is parking.”
nGet a job at Papa Romeo’s. Coincidental moniker? Think again. Everyone has a soft spot for this pizza padre. If you could offer a leg-up on that 45-minute wait, you’d be a regular Hugh Hefner (sans creepy P.J.’s).
nMy final suggestion is technically illegal. (Note: It is very attractive to be a tantalizing three steps ahead of the law). Christmas morning, I awoke to a daintily wrapped present with iridescent snowflake paper. Inside was a note written in my mother’s handwriting: “Your library fines have been paid. Love, Santa.” I was reckless with my research on a Benjamin Franklin paper and had to pay the piper.
Woe is me: I boasted a library on one of our founding fathers instead of a box set of “Clarissa Explains it All.” Many of my financially irresponsible peers would find a mate (read: library employee) who could erase their fines intoxicating.
In the end, Lara Croft dumped the tool. Maybe a high mate value isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. As long as you have someone to share cheesy bread with, it doesn’t matter if he or she is an ace or a two. Pass that garlic sauce.
Amanda FitzSimons is a Weinberg junior. She can be reached at [email protected].
