By Cecily Squier

and Sarah Kramer

Staff Writers

So, are you here for your MRS degree? Come on y'all, admit it: in the swarming meat market of your freshman year, part of the excitement was the hope that, amidst the crap of class work, you would find Mr. or Ms. Right (or at least Mr. or Ms. Right-now). So you willingly go through various humiliations of mixer games (including the game involving Lifesavers and toothpicks), floor dates and chapel. Not to mention the excruciating conversations, consisting primarily of a stew of sexual frustration and banal biographical information. For those of us with well-oiled ethical machines, we would skip that crap and get right to the nookie. While this was not always the best tactic in securing a life-mate, it did make college fun like camp.

However, a lot of you were in a race against the clock, against the looming spectre of your twenties to find that dear someone. Sustained by an elaborate hair-care routine, the prayers of your parents and repeated viewings of ``Dirty Dancing'' (for the girls) and ``Swingers'' (for the boys), you were up to the challenge. The writers of this piece, in the meanwhile, were sitting on the sidelines, thinking no more of marriage than of a Brazilian bikini wax. To our great surprise and mild consternation, there were other plans in store. Both of us got engaged this year, a full decade prior to the projected date of matrimony.

This put us in a situation we never, ever expected to be in. For Cecily, this put her in a situation she had seen so many other Communications majors; only, they always seemed a little different. She has no winter tan, and is a little less sunny than might be foreseen for an engaged Calvin girl. Sarah's life, as it lived up slightly different than she expected, decided to be a ``closet'' engaged person. Disregarding the advice of Dr. Laura, who says without a ring and a date you're not really engaged, Sarah opted for a ringless engagement. Instead, she is the proud owner of an Excellence pin to signify her attachedness, taking a cue from the movie ``Rushmore.''

Partly it was shame on joining the ranks of what she saw as faceless traditionalists; and the other part was a wish to avoid talking about the wedding. Cecily, who loves nothing so much as planning a party, has been thrilled to discuss some of the details of planning, but mainly she only likes things she can complain about.

But the biggest thing is that we have conceded to a world which most of our friends do not hold in high esteem. Of the pseudo-intellectual types at Calvin (and we proudly list ourselves in their ranks), any kind of bizarre life choice can be made and taken seriously by most of your peers. ``I'm done with socks,'' ``I am choosing only to eat hummus and ORGANIC broccoli'' or ``I only see films directed by women'' can be said and understood whole-heartedly by certain sectors of the population; these decisions are felt to have the weight of thoughtful contemplation behind them.

However, when it comes to the fact that someone you know is actually considering the merits of a food processor versus a juicer, or seems to spend a lot of time thinking about a gown in either rum punch or diamond white, you think, ``Hmm.This person used to be interesting.'' Most people seem to regard engaged women as having received, along with the ring, a fifty-percent I.Q. cut. In contrast, men can slip into engagement without so much as a surprised response from their peers. It is part of their cultural mandate - subdue and name your surroundings.

First, if we can get engaged - you can too. Without putting in a modicum of effort into the endeavor, and many times actively resisting the whole thing, here we are on our way to a white wedding. (However, I think we can both agree in saying that becoming engaged really hasn't been the pinnacle of our lives, and is kind of a sort of tedious pre-game show before the actual big event.) Like the song says, wishin' and hopin' won't get you into his/her arms.

Around Calvin, a lot of lip service is paid to the idea of God's will playing out in our lives. Well, we don't know what kind of crazy bull the good Lord has in store for us. Neither do any of you. Also, instead of thinking about Valentine's Day as Singles Awareness Day, think of it more as a money-grubbing tactic of the greeting card industry to be disregarded altogether. It is not a time to lament or celebrate anything; it is fundamentally a time to buy stuff.

Second, if you aren't the marrying type and don't foresee marriage in the near future (or any time in the course of your life), show a little understanding to those of us who are. God may have weird stuff for you too. The curse of your parents the first time you expressed special disgust for the opposite sex will be with you in some form for the rest of your life, assuming that intimate relationships are something you're interested in to begin with.

Finally, for you girls on the path to marriage, don't say ``I got pearled.'' Outside of Calvin, this means something drastically and disgustingly different.

Happy Valentine's Day, you miserable pukes; and don't tell us we're not the marrying type.