Joy Eisenberg ’10
Sports Editor

There are 98 days, 10 hours, and 41 minutes left.

No, this is not a countdown of the days remaining until I hear back from colleges, but the amount of time between my writing this column and Red and Whites.

Every year the County Assemblies holds two dances, one for seniors and one for juniors, which bring together the Westport, Weston, Fairfield, and Wilton High Schools.

 While these dances are held in late January, girls begin asking for dates in September, or sometimes even earlier.

This is the one time of the year that the traditional roles reverse.

Girls do not ask boys to be their date. They give them no other choice.

Although I am guilty of succumbing to such an absurd process, it is simply not my fault.

For once word gets out that one girl in the grade has found her date, mayhem begins.

Perhaps you are a little confused as to what I mean.

Take “Black Friday” for example.          

On this day, discount–lovers line up outside of stores with their purchases in mind, hoping to get the first pickings.

Well, in this case it’s more like the first push–n–shove.

Once the doors open, it’s every shopper for themselves with only one phrase coming to mind: survival of the fittest.

The same circumstances apply at Staples, except the students are not shopping for great deals, but dates.             

And at this point, every girl has two choices.

She can follow everyone else and find her date as soon as possible, hoping to beat out the competition.

Or, she can take the nonchalant approach and hold off for a while, giving off the impression that she will be happy with whomever is left at the time, yet sweating on the inside after news breaks of every new couple.  

Every class period, text message, AIM conversation, and wall post is dedicated to Red and Whites.

During lunch, girls—yes, I have been a part of this nonsense–line themselves up along a lunch table, and rank their options.

A typical conversation:

“Oh Suzie, what about Joe?”

“He’s too short. I won’t be able to wear heels. He’ll be my plan B.”

“Hmm, what about Bill?”

“I mean, he’s hot, but he doesn’t talk.”

 …And the conversation continues.

Unbeknownst to them, the boys  have been reduced to statistics.

No longer is being a nice boy an admirable trait.

Instead of personality, the dates are picked based on group dynamic, and how the pictures will turn out.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter who you go with, just as long as you go.

In the instances where dates are chosen just to get it done and out of the way, and simply because they fit into the predetermined picture group, the awkwardness begins.

Days are filled with forced conversations, or in some cases, the awkwardness of no conversations at all.               

And the situation of passing your date in the hallways arises.

It’s a highly unnerving question: to make eye contact or not to make eye contact?

The truth is all of this could have been avoided if we had just waited.

I mean, at least until the temperature was below 60 degrees.

Because now, as we reach the winter months new friendships, and possibly new relationships, are forming.

I can almost guarantee that about 50 percent of the couples at this point would have been different.

Sure, it’s quite possible that even if they had waited, 50 percent of the dates would have wanted to switch.           

 But in the end, the added stress at the beginning of the year is just not needed.

In reality, asking someone to a dance shouldn’t be stressful at all.

 But, we’re girls. We cannot help but create drama for ourselves.

To top it all off, I just heard sophomore girls are already picking dates for their Counties dance next year.