Them hormones...

Cupid’s stuck that pointy thing of his, laced with dollops of love, lust and stupidity, in your rear end, yet again. Hell that’s what you attended college for. You float around like an albatross on a summer cloud, with the name of your current love stuck in your head like the omnipresent winter phlegm. That’s where reason deserts you, while you in turn desert classes.

The corridors swarm with more hopefuls like you, hoping to catch a glance of their prospective love interest. Animal Planet says that most animals groom themselves to stand out when they go mate hunting. Male peacocks ruffle up their pretty plumes; felines lick themselves to swanky shininess. The brightest and the shiniest one gets the prize!.Colleges are no different from any African forests. Females dress themselves in bright yellow and oranges, and splash on dollops of perfume, smelling sickly sweet and flick and swish their newly straightened hair, to catch the correct light, which will dazzle the opposite sex to fatal attraction or blindness, whatever comes first.

Males, the hypothetically superior sex, are not far behind. Oh no. They come with pointy shoes; they come with full wallets, even if it means they have to go without their usual liver massacring dose of cigarettes for a whole month, just so that they can take their lady friends to the places which overcharge for fancy lighting. They come with purpose and overconfidence bordering of irritating cockiness, throwing age old pick up lines like there’s no tomorrow.

All in all, its another a normal day at college, which is nothing less than a battle. The fittest shall survive, while the weak ones are forced to retreat into the confines of the classes.