Last December, as I settled down to watch the finale of NBC's "The Sing Off" with a friend from high school, she started giggling about how her housemate went on a date with a guy on the football team and reminiscing about spending hours of her Saturdays shivering in her university's grandstands.
"Mmhmm…" I nodded, only half paying attention as I turned up the volume when the opening credits rolled.
It wasn't until the commercial break that it dawned on me that, well, I didn't actually identify with college sports culture or worshipping football players on campus. In fact, the only time I've ever seen Tufts grind to a halt −− like a football game shuts down a Big 10 school −− was for "The Sing Off," during finals period no less. I eagerly cheered on our argyle−clad "home team" for the next hour, mulling over how atypical it is that an a cappella group is as popular at Tufts as a football team would be at any other school.
In many ways, the Bubs' popularity on campus, even pre−national television, is one reminder of how it's cool to be a little bit nerdy at Tufts. Dorky qualities, be it all−male a cappella talents or knowledge of every U.S. president, are often considered cool and attractive −− it's in the culture of our school.
While some argue that "nerd chic" has been a growing national trend ever since comic−book−collecting Seth Cohen started breaking hearts on "The O.C." back in 2003, the geek−attractiveness factor is especially high at Tufts.
There are innate quirky qualities that permeate our student body −− our campus is full of high school debate team captains and French horn enthusiasts with a few eccentricities. If you need any reminder of what we were all like before fitting into the "Tufts norm," just YouTube.com search "Tufts supplement" and get back to me.
Even my FOCUS co−leader, one of the most stereotypical Theta Delta Chi frat bros, is a chem−e prodigy and Academic Resource Center (ARC) tutor who aces his orgo exams, even after going out hard on Thursday nights. I doubt he'd admit his inner−nerdiness outright, but the point is that it exists in even the most unexpected students at Tufts.
While out at a bar a week ago, a Tufts friend said, "Yeah, my ideal type is like, 55 percent dorky and 45 percent cute." I couldn't help but grin, thinking that she had hit the jackpot at Tufts if that was what she was after.
It's that type of comment that I hear echoed all across campus. I have a friend who's currently swooning over a crush's passion for history, and another who admires a girl who works nonstop for different Environmental Consciousness Outreach (ECO) projects on campus. I remember freshman year developing a crush on a guy who sat next to me in my EN 2 lab as he literally coached me though all of those Auto−CAD renderings.
Beyond the initial attraction, dorky quirks keep people interesting too. One of the most attractive qualities someone can exude on a date is the ability to passionately describe something they're really interested in.
Sitting across from someone over coffee who can pique your interest in a subject you've never thought about before is attractive, and there are an uncanny amount of students at this school running around with unusual interests who are willing to nerd−out over a date.
I've heard many complaints about the level of attractiveness of Tufts students ("Tufts goggles," what have you), but I think we really ought to take a second look around. For many of us, the "Tufts type" is right up our alley, and we should just embrace the inner−geek niche charm that we've got going for us.
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Emily Maretsky is a senior majoring in engineering psychology. She can be reached at Emily.Maretsky@tufts.edu.
