I Transferred Universities, And It Was Awesome
7 years ago

I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or impressed with my eighteen-year-old self for phoning in the whole college application process as hard as I did. I ended up enrolling at a school without even visiting the campus first (reckless move) because it had a sub 30% acceptance rate, which I figured my parents would be fired up about. And, my best friend from home’s older brother was a sophomore there and promised that if I went to his school he would show me the “sickest fucking time” of my life. Which, to an impulsive and impressionable high-school senior, is a Billy Mays level sales-pitch.

Imagine my surprise when, after less than a year, I was in fact NOT having the sickest fucking time of my life. Not even the second sickest! I suppose the old “roll the dice on a massive life decision/commitment” maneuver just didn’t pay off this time. Shocking. So, in the spring of my freshman year, I decided to transfer.

A more thorough college search, based on more than just one statistic, led me to the school where I am currently enrolled, which has proven to be an infinitely better fit for me.

Still, beginning your sophomore year at a new college is not without its challenges. If you play your cards right, though, you’ll find being the “transfer kid” is actually an incredibly chill situation.

Here’s why.

1. New-Guy Sex

This is 100% a thing. Your penis’s stock has frankly never been higher. I would never pretend to be especially gifted with the fairer sex, but after arriving on my new campus, there existed a finite window of time in which I was like Vincent fucking Chase. If you’re a transfer student of average to above average physical attractiveness with a remotely agreeable personality, you’re about to have yourself some very undeserved intercourse.

Is it vulgar? Sure. Is it immature? Clearly. Is it true? You bet your dick it is. Especially at smaller schools, where everybody is already sick of each other. A transfer kid is like much needed breath of fresh air.

New-kid sex is an irrefutable anthropological phenomenon. People are fascinated by you simply because you’re new. The best part is you did absolutely nothing to earn their attention. Yet they’re unabashedly throwing it at you. This effect wears off quickly, though, so you’d better get to cup-cakin’ while it lasts.

2. Sophomore Rush

Since I transferred to a school with a sophomore-rush policy, I was able to pledge a fraternity pretty much right off the bat. I’m not saying that you have to get involved in Greek life in order to have fun in college. But… that’s kind of exactly what I’m saying. Because one of the more significant challenges of being in a new place is meeting new people, and you’re about to get pretty damn familiar with this group of dudes.

A potential side effect of pledging as soon as you arrive on campus is that you’ll probably have very few friends outside of your house, but that’s not really much of an issue. Would you rather have thousands of random acquaintances? Or would you rather have several dozen degenerate asshole brothers who are financially obligated to have your back no matter what? Plus, you’ll have ample opportunity to meet all sorts of young sorority gals each weekend, which will give you an opportunity to implement that whole “new guy” shtick covered in the previous section.

3. A Clean Slate

I’m not saying you need it, but just like Anne Hathaway in a sexy Cat Woman suit, you’ll definitely be glad to have it. Freshman year is like The Purge. It’s a time for newly minted adults to take full advantage of their newfound freedoms by chugging cheap liquor, having embarrassing sex, and burning all sorts of bridges along the way. It’s rite of passage as American as bald eagles and Budweiser. You just got the worst of it out of your system somewhere else. People at your new school are encountering you as a seasoned veteran.

A year ago, you would black out at 11 p.m. and wake up with your face in a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos the next morning wearing somebody else’s pants. Now that you’ve clocked in your 10,000 hours of regrettable behavior, you’ll take your damn pants off when you’re good and ready. Sophomore You handles that red solo cup the way a trained Marine handles a loaded M16, ready to seek and destroy some ice cold dizzy-pops.