Minus the City – Jug O’Clock

Allie Geiger

The Old Stone Jug: the favorite source of campus forbidden fruit. Or, more accurately, rotten fruit. Attractive for several reasons, partially because it is less exclusive than the fraternities, as well as everywhere else in the Western hemisphere, partially because of the stigma attached, but mostly for reasons we may just never understand.

The Jug, for those of you who have not experienced this most amazing of phenomena, has a particular set of conventions. Firstly, go at the appropriate time, also known in some circles as ‘jug o’clock.’ I used to like to head out at approximately quarter to midnight, so I wouldn’t have to wait on the line. After this, you may have to wait in unbelievable lines, in the process probably getting elbowed in the kidneys by other somewhat impaired Jug patrons. Further, if you know nothing else, go to the bathroom in pairs, as the bathrooms have two toilets in one room, and you don’t want to get stuck with a rando.

Now that we have these prelims out of the way, let’s talk about the real issue at hand: getting some. We already know, because of the bathroom situation in the Jug, everyone goes to the Jug in at least pairs, which means, everyone has a wingman. All college students know the standard procedure of “wingmanning.” A well-known typically male habit, this is the stuff on which beer commercials are built. Frat boys the campus-over are rock, paper, scissorsing or whatever it is they do for the hotter chick each time they try and get some at the Jug. (Harsh? Yes, darlings, but it’s true.) Some poor schmuck ALWAYS has to dance with the less appealing roommate/friend/lab partner. It is an essential fact of life — as natural as the birds and the bees and an essential step to getting to that procedure.

However, many people are unaware that women do the same thing in reverse. A good part of the time, females can sense a wingman a mile away. Yes, we know you are smooth. Yes, we know you love your bros enough to do it. Yes, we will (OK, I will) accept that shot of tequila even though we know you’re just doing it for the sake of your buddy. However, we will not put up with that behavior, besides the part about the shot. And we have a patent way of avoiding falling prey to this lame tactic. Yes, I used the word “patent.” It is just that good. Ladies, if you’re not up on the magic word, you had better keep reading. Dudes, pay attention to know the next time you’re getting passed over.

Here’s how it works: a sketchy dude is all up in your grill but he doesn’t know the flavor, right? Yes, I know, it’s the Jug — but please, we have standards. And sketchy is never a good thing. So, your friend notices this rather unpleasant someone and she leans over and inquires as to the party or how you are feeling. And, soldiers, when things are desperate, you say this: It is/I am SUPER.

Yes, super. It’s not weird enough to be noticeable, but it’s definitely not something you would say normally. And, because you decided on the word “super” in advance, she knows that you are not digging this particular specimen of the male gender. And perhaps, if she could, she might want to start dancing with you and pry you away from this miscreant. Dudes know exactly what I’m talking about. The cute little girl-on-girl, hand-to-hand dance (that hand contact is important here), it looks innocent, the one twirls the other, and she’s out of your grasp forever. She rejoices, you are foiled once more. Damn.

Simple as that. Go forth, girlies! The Jug is yours without fear or regret any longer. You are free to dance as you please without fear of a sketchball marring your hookup record. Just keep it “super.”

Because I am all for gender equality, fellows, this is for you: how to avoid being “super.” When you dance with a girl, actually dance with her. That dry humping thing you’re trying? It’s not really desirable. DO NOT mosey up behind a lady and place your arms around her waist and begin gyrating. This is just a suggestion, but perhaps you should introduce yourself first. At least maybe try out a few romantic-y dance moves before the grinding must inevitably commence. In order to determine the actual moment of dancing to grinding transition, look at her. For more than a cursory second, please. Make eye contact and smile. Does she smile back? Good. Is there a bit of mischief, maybe even a twinkle in her eye? Eeeeexcellent! Now, move closer (yes, in that region), but just a little bit. Ready for the bit of finessing? Let her make the next move. She will. If she feels so inclined, her hips will move towards yours about the same way you are. And that is the key moment, buddy — you are in.

For the rest of the night be confident and make eye contact before making any other major moves. Now, you are not sketchy. You are thoughtful, smooth and not in the slightest “super.” Beware though, gentlemen, use this power for good and not evil — girls can see right through to true “sketchy.”

One quick last note of advice: in order to really seal the deal, you may want to take advantage of a handy Eddy Money or Mariah Carey song and point to the person you are dancing with and grin. All I want for Christmas? Who is taking me home tonight? YOU. Everyone loves this move and it will make sure both of you cool cats are on the same page. I’m just saying.

I hope these hints are helpful and all of you get a little. Next time, we’ll be covering the always-salient topic of hookup etiquette. In the meantime, use a condom.