Hey Mags, it’s me, Mags. By me I mean you. You from the future. Don’t think about it too much or you’ll start to get confused just like when we read The Time Traveler’s Wife and have to stop 30 pages in because our brain starts melting. Don’t worry, we pick it up again a few years later and basically bawl our eyes out for 2 weeks. It’s pretty awesome.

But anyway, it’s yourself writing to you from the future. I decided that although we had a fairly OK time in college, there was potential for it to be much, much better. You should be receiving this note during fall semester of your freshmen year. And, what is most important during your first semester at college? 


You have just been thrown into a piping hot stew of unstoppable hormones, raging libidos, and axe body spray. Deeeeelicious. Everyone wants to take a sip. Including you, don’t deny it.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking — Future Mags, you know better than anyone that I’ve been at this school for weeks and everyone is hooking up with everyone else but no one is hooking up with me!

Shut it! Don’t remind me. Now, College Mags, I don’t want to blame this lack of 18 year old boy tongue down your throat on the fact that you’ve been watching Sleepless in Seattle every other day for three straight weeks and eating full sleeves of chewy chocolate chip cookies in one sitting — but that’s almost completely what it is. Could you stop doing that? It’s embarrassing us.

There is another piece to this sexless puzzle though. You just aren’t in the “know” of how to lure these horny boys into your web of love. You went to an all girls private school, so you are a dumb-dumb when it comes to sexually explicit encounters.

But that’s why I’m here. I mean, what good are time traveling letter writing capabilities if you can’t use them to get yourself laid?! Have you SEEN The Lake House?! Oh, no you haven’t — but you will — and against all better judgment you will love it.

But I digress”¦

Having fully completed the college experience and then some, I have learned that there are three ways for a college girl to nab herself a college boy. They are:

1. Be super hot and charming. Or even mildly-hot and not an idiot. Or just mildly hot.

Truth-telling time: we are none of those. So, on to…

2. Start a really awesome/questionably immoral rumor about yourself and spread it around campus. 

A rumor like “she gives dynamite blow jobs” should do the trick. To really sell this, you’ll need to make subtle yet suggestive BJ gestures out in public. You’ll get the most bang for your buck by making these lewd gestures in such locations as “the classroom”, “the cafeteria”, and “the library”. Definitely the library. Why? There are two types of boys in the library. 1) Nerdfaces who want to get laid just as much as you do and 2) Stupid boys who would prefer any distraction over the forced studying they are doing to remain on whatever “club” “sports” “team” they are on. Including distractions that aren’t even mildly hot. 

3. Break into the boys club.

This one is the easiest for us. Why? We know how to drink (thanks, Daddy!). Be warned though – there is an inherent problem in this route. They don’t see you as an option, they see you as their sister or as a boy who is missing a penis. Neither of these things are sexy (to most people). You can, however, combat this side effect. Remind those boys that you are a Woman. A Woman with a functioning vagina. A functioning vagina that they can put their — you get the picture. How do you do this? A few things: 

  •                   Rock that cleave, girl. You weren’t born with double-ds for nothing! 

  •                   Laugh at things that aren’t funny. Apparently, that’s endearing.

  •                   Flirt with harmless touching and sexy eyes.

Actually, no, don’t ever do sexy eyes. You will come to realize that when you try to do sexy eyes we look like we’re in the middle of a mild stroke. It doesn’t help our case.

Now, lady, I didn’t discover how to send letters through time just for the fun of it. This science/space/time breakthrough is to be respected. So put down the cookies, press pause on Sleepless in Seattle (unless you’re already at the part where Annie is running through the streets of NYC to the Empire State Building, because really you’re almost at the end so you might as well finish it. I mean, duh.), and start reeling in the man candy. Mama needs some lovin’!