The Sunday ProJo had a nice piece by Charles P. Whitin about the rhythms of life on College Hill and the simple pleasures to be found there. And, like me, he is a people-watcher —

An amazing amount of pulchritude unveils itself as the weather warms, most evident in the young women of the Hill, while the men, by and large, go incognito, relatively hidden in a ubiquitous uniform of athletic shoes, baggy shorts and visored caps, less commodities on display than diamonds in the rough. Or is this just because I am a heterosexual male, and fail to notice, being otherwise distracted?

Nope, you are absolutely correct Mr. Whitin, and I’m a heterosexual female. The other day I had a cup of coffee outside at Blue State and took in the passing scene. Almost all of the guys looked like they had walked straight out of a gym (except for the irrefutable evidence that they had clearly never walked into a gym). Most were wearing crappy tees and flip flops and those nylon athletic shorts. Guys… you don’t look casual… you look ’special’. This would be fine I suppose if their female counterparts were similarly attired, but they are not. The girls are pretty stylish and put-together. This disparity was weirdly on display with the couples — real cute girls who appeared to be on a community service project with their ’special little fella’. Come on ladies, it’s time to go Lysistrata on their sorry asses. No nookie until they shape up. (And end the war while you’re at it.)

Tags: Charles Whitin, Horror, Thayer Street

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