I’m on a hill

Hello, Ladies. Look at the picture in this column. Now back to your man. Now back at the picture. Now back to… actually just keep looking at the picture. At this moment, you are looking at your future, nay, your destiny. You see the man your man could be. Not bad, huh?

Before you respond, let me just preface that question by saying that I’ve been working really hard to reach my current form. At the beginning of the year, I perfectly fit the model of an inconsequential ginger: I did research in Bihall all day, procrastinated all night, played video games the weekends and got sunburn when it snowed. I also wrote the ‘Awkward BJ’, a column about awkwardness and people seemed to know why. But these days are over.

If you want success at Middlebury, you have to be the best. Want to pass biology? You have to suck up to the teacher and spend 15 hours before every lab class painstakingly doing a pre-lab. Want to be in an a cappella group? You have to be an American idol finalist. Want to play tennis on the college team? You have to not suck at playing tennis. You want a girl? You’ve gotta be the most baller, badass stud to set foot in the Champlain Valley. As a senior, I have finally seen the light on this subject and decided to start winning.

Ben 2.0 (pronounced “two point bro”) has come. I’ve been pumping mad iron and sporting some super bronze not characteristic of your average ginger (as you can see from the portrait you’ve been fixated on since you started reading). My whole life is a gym. I greet people with “Hello there…” instead of “Hey,” and I say things like “I can make you happy, baby” and “I’m in the zone!” I walk around in the same way that I smell — fresh, cocky and covered in hair gel. The party literally don’t start till I walk in. I have ceased to be the Awkward BJ. I am now the Best BJ.

The only thing missing is someone else. Luckily, I’ve already scoped out the scene. Here is the list of (mostly) girls I am a fan of (in extremely random order):

Emma Robson: Cross Country Crush
Rachel Schrier: Biochemistry Crush
Heather Pynne: Suggestive Drapery Crush
Jessi Stevens: Olinick Crush
Lizzie Roberts: 2 a.m. in Central Park Crush
Nora Lamm: Northern Lights Crush
Jaime Fuller: Presidential Slut Crush
Evan Charles Giardina-Masseau: Dirty as Denny’s on a Tuesday Night Slut Crush
Anna McNally: Science Class (Almost) Every Se
mester Crush
Cori Hundt: Doctor-Patient Confidentiality Crush
Sarah Simonds: Boner Crush
Cailey Condit: Beertuesday/Cow Crush
Sara Woodworth: Le Abroad Crush
Julianne Wieboldt: Cladwell Wouldn’t Approve of This Crush
Prof. Roger Sandwick: Protein (Brotein) Crush
Prof. Florence Feireisen: Deutschprofessorin Crush
Erin Toner: Tub of Cheese Fondue Crush
Jess Spar: Running Out of Breath Crush
Laura Williams: Crap I Forgot About Our Dinner Crush
Kelsey Ferguson: All-Purpose Shenanigans Crush

So there we go…ladies (mostly). I’m into all yall in one way or another, and I’d love to show you girls firsthand my power shower and my amoral pectorals. I can make you happy, baby. Also check out my new haircut. I’ll be free anytime I’m not at the gym, benching whales and chugging my brotein. Gosh, I am just the Best.

Now, some crazy conspiracy theorists might claim that my entire transformation into such an appealing creature is a hoax; that I am just “claiming to look like the Old Spice man and act like certain characters on the Jersey Shore in a misguided ploy to pick up girls.” I just want to say that, in the purely hypothetical case that I don’t smell like hair product and victory all the time, or say everything in a sexy low voice, or go to the gym five times a day, the crush list still applies. If the ‘Awkward BJ’ really hasn’t gone anywhere, I would still love to chill with the people above that I know really well and don’t know really well. I’ll be around.

On that note: Peace, Middlebury College. It’s been real.