When I first walked into 569 Lerner, I was immediately struck by two things: one, I was the only other guy in the room full of girls. Strange, but no problem. Maybe I’m just early. Two, there was a. Lot. Of. Pink. Okay, a little early for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but also no problem. This must be how the Fed rolls! I took a seat towards the back (because I don’t chase, I attract), and waited.
“Welcome to CUPPGen! For our icebreaker, we’re going to introduce ourselves and tape a condom on our Chris Evans cutout.” Ahh, here we go. While I was clueless as to what PPGen stood for, I had no doubt I was in the correct place. What other club would start the year in such a delightfully lustful manner? To anyone else it would seem that something was wrong, but to me it was all too right.
As the condoms started piling on, my suspicions began to set in. This game had been going on for too long. Where was the big reveal? Where was the “Welcome to the Fed?”. Then I realized, No, this is a test. They’re trying to out-weird us and weed out the weak. It’s all a facade.
And what a facade it was. From the room full of passionate members, to the Fed’s mascot on the whiteboard saying “We love Reproductive Rights!” to the BRAT-themed QR code that led to @cu_plannedparenthood, it was almost too well done. They could’ve fully convinced a more average Joe that this was actually a Planned Parenthood meeting and not a Fed meeting. Not me though. I was on to them.
The Feditors must’ve noticed the glint of realization in my eyes, because soon it was my turn with Chris. And here, my dear reader, is where I regret to say that I broke. They called my bluff, and I had nothing. So I excused myself to use the bathroom and never came back. On the walk back to my dorm, I was filled with frustration. I had learned nothing about the Fed and everything about Prop 1. Even worse, my pride was hurt. At that moment, I decided I would do whatever it took to get into the Fed.
I’m still convinced I’m in this game—they were just testing my loyalties, if you will. I’ll admit, you got me this time, Fed. But mark my words: next Monday I’ll be enthused to handle whatever contraceptives you throw at me.
