BLOG: The wild side of dating in college

I heard a less-than-humorous joke once that went something like this: “A woman doesn’t want to spend her life cooking and cleaning, so she goes to college where she meets the man for whom she spends the rest of her life cooking and cleaning.”

I know, my feminist senses are tingling too, but considering that general knowledge dictates those of us interested in a long-term relationship are likely to meet our partner during these formative years, I can’t deny that even I have my eye out for my potential Mr. Right as I wander campus. It’s hard to deny that the intricate mating rituals of college-aged males and females carry on in between study sessions, much as they have for generations. This weekend, while enjoying Fall Getaway with our campus division of Campus Crusade for Christ (and divisions from eight other campuses around the area), I couldn’t help but observe this strange and magnificent phenomenon at work.

The culminating event of the weekend retreat was a date auction fundraiser for the International Justice Mission, an organization which works to rescue and empower victims of human trafficking. For weeks, this night had been the talk of the CRU-attending town, and many young ladies were heard whispering and conniving over bidding strategies and potential auction wares. Okay, largely it was me whispering, but I never had too much trouble finding someone to join in my whispering. On the afternoon before the auction, the males gathered in teams for a campus versus campus tackle football tournament. Soon a sizeable audience of females had gathered on a nearby hill to assess the males’ display. Every hit echoed through the field like the crack of battling Bighorn sheep as the men demonstrated varying feats of speed, strength and agility. The observant women of each campus commented on which of the impressive specimen would be available for auction that night. Meanwhile, I guffawed at the sight of five men throwing themselves headlong after an unpredictable bounce of the football and was struck by a sense of déjà vu. Surely I’d seen a similar mating display on the National Geographic channel before.

When at last the auction began, the pent-up excitement in both genders was finally released in the form of intense bidding wars and an electric atmosphere. Audience members uninterested in the particular person up for auction would run and leap to give money to bidders in danger of losing their chance for want of funds. Single dates were viciously defended, group dates sold for sky-high prices, and the prospect of a double date brought courage to a certain bespectacled blogger and her soft-spoken friend. Shaking hands pooled funds and counted donations from surrounding audience members until, before we could process what we’d done in the thrill of the moment, the auctioneers pointed to my friend Katie and I as they shouted, “Sold!”

Yes, it’s true. Even I, the hesitant believer in the hunt for Mr. Right, joined in the excitement of this strange interpersonal exercise. Why? Because life is short, I was supporting a great cause, a friend was along for the ride and the men in question wore ties with their muscle shirts.

I imagine a similar situation occurs in the wild.