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Getting to the bottom of Houseparties habits

It's such an age-old ritual that it's almost cultish. Like robots, every year we flock to open bars, tuxedo rental shops and candle-lit tables — all in the name of Houseparties. Yes, tonight starts Houseparties weekend.

Now, if you're a freshman guy, I'm sure you're saying, "Hey, the 'Street' isn't open this weekend? Why not?" If you're a freshman girl, you're probably saying, "Wow, this upperclass guy likes me!" If you're independent, you're thinking, "I'm hungry." And if you're an eating club member, then you're panicking. Because three days is a long time to commit to anything, anyone or anywhere — in uncomfortable clothing, no less. All of a sudden, knowing that we have to do something, we tense up, we worry, we shop. But let's look at it this way — there are starving children around the world who don't even have dates yet. Our lives aren't so bad.

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My first observation: We all act differently when we are in formal wear. Just look around Friday night and notice what the conversations are like — much less swearing, no one is throwing food and at least one person feels compelled to try and talk all civilized. Who are we kidding? Just because we make ourselves look all pretty doesn't mean we're different people. Having Beef Wellington in front of you and a napkin on your lap makes you no more respectable or mature. I personally have more respect for a man in a tux who tells a dirty joke than a guy in a Newman's Day T-shirt.

Flowers. Whether it's a boutonniere or a bouquet (Guys: unless there will be a prom court announced, do not get a corsage), they're still pretty useless. It's not even like they're going to die eventually — they're already dead. You've just paid someone for dead flowers. It's like going to a pet store and buying roadkill — when you step back and take a look, it really doesn't make much sense. But it is both a chivalrous and ladylike thing to do, and it is much appreciated by both sides.

At the end of the weekend, I sometimes total up how many cameras I've lost. Somehow, we feel compelled to take pictures the second that we all look nice. My entire life is chronicled by pictures of me in different dresses; my grandmother actually thinks I go to class in sequins because she has no photos of me to tell her otherwise. Who doesn't have a specific formals-picture smile? Lean into your date, show a little teeth, don't stick up your middle finger. I must have pictures from six different people of my Winter Formals date and I, and they all look like the exact same thing. I think there's a lot to be said for not posing — we're not sitting in the Wal-Mart photo gallery anymore while the photographer waves a stuffed animal in front of us and sticks his tongue out. Make a face, go back to slouching, fake a juicy photo with someone else's date — I promise you won't regret it when they get developed.

You know why I think Houseparties are so much fun? Because for once we all suck it up and admit we're not doing work for three days. No illusions, no pretenses, no claims that we're going to be productive. It takes about 3,000 people campus-wide for us to admit that maybe sometimes there are better ways that we should be spending our time. Who says we're not followers?

My last thought: Three days is a really long time. For adult mayflies, it's three full lifetimes. In reserve-room fines, it's $43.20 (cheaper than Houseparties, I'd like to point out). I know soul mates that can't keep up a conversation for three days, so why should we have to? A little comfortable quiet time is a good thing, especially when everyone's exhausted anyway. You have to save all your energy to tell everyone how much you like their dress or hair — or if you're a guy, to order drinks. Don't sweat the silence. Take a minute to stare at your date noiselessly and fully appreciate the fact that they are indeed putting up with you for a long span of time. Be thankful. Jen Adams is a psychology major from Ogdensburg, N.Y. She can be reached at jladams@princeton.edu.

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