Douche-Plus Society

Every month, I get an invite to something called the Ivy-Plus Pub Night at the Harvard Club.

I've never been to one of these events -- mostly due to their reputation. From what I hear, their attendance is 90 percent Harvard grads, all of whom enjoy their home-court advantage and only talk to any of the other attendees because they have confused them with busboys. Because I went to Cornell, only own two pairs of argyle socks, and prefer blazers to patterned sweaters, I doubt I'd fit in.

Apparently, I've been mistaken about the nature of these Ivy-Plus events. Thank God for the New York Times and its investigative reporters, who have ventured at great peril into these dens of sin in order to suss out the truth about these gatherings.

The article begins by breathlessly reporting that the ivy leagues -- long a bastion of elite exclusivity and incestuous circle-jerking, have now relaxed the gates of their ivory towers and deign to mingle with alumni from over two dozen other schools. These include, but are not limited to, Berkeley, MIT, Stanford, and other universities that frequently place higher than most (if not all) of the other ivies in the college rankings.

Let's break down some other choice passages in the article, FJM style.

At least one woman’s outfit, a demure jacket over a low-cut dress, seemed to scream, “I’m smart and sexy!”

I wish there was a context for this declarative sentence. It is at the end of a paragraph describing what the inside of the bar looks like, and seems to serve no other function than to describe one woman in particular and what her clothes say about her. In any case, the description needs more adjectives. How low-cut is the dress? How much cleavage do we see? Does it go past sexy and become skanky? And the jacket? How demure is it? Are we to assume that this is the part that screams "I'm smart!"? In that case, how exactly does a demure jacket say that? Is it embroidered with a Mensa seal? Does it have patches on the elbows? Does putting it on require a complicated procedure that only a smart person can figure out? These are important questions, people.

While some may see Ivy Plus as a business-networking opportunity, the tip-off to its real appeal is that about 75 percent of attendees are single. Its premise is that like attracts like, that in the big heartless city there is a place where a potential mate will understand your allusions to Andrew Marvell, or at least Sex Week at Yale.

Oh, so it's a meat market! And all the meat is Angus Certified Class A Prime Rib? Right? No Meatloaf here, right, Carter and J. Peter? (Douche Five!) And, in this big heartless city, I often find that when a girl doesn't know who Andrew Marvell is, that means she is unfit to have my babies.

Ms. Anderson said that the “plus” institutions — including Stanford, Duke, MIT and West Point — are those with a “natural affiliation” with the Ivies, in addition to top business, law and medical schools. “If you wanted to describe these schools, these are all highly selective, academically rigorous institutions,” she said, although social reputations also come into play. “The Duke people are so much fun. There’s just some schools you want to make sure you include.”

I know! It's not a party until Duke gets there. Remember, this is the college that should have won the 'Douchiest College in America' rankings over at GQ, except the editors couldn't fathom the idea of having Duke be number one at anything, and so they made them number two.

Ben Pike, a 2006 Georgetown graduate, was settled into a copper-colored sofa in the back of Gates lounge. He said he hoped to meet New York women who were more than merely gorgeous. “I’ve been in the city three years and dated girls who are legitimate models, and that gets old,” said Mr. Pike, who works in private equity. “I have high standards. I’ve met people who are really smart but don’t have it together socially, and people who are fun but may not offer more mentally.” The total package, he explained, is tough to find.

Indeed, Mr. Pike. Indeed. I've also dated "legitimate models" and yes, that got old, as soon as they turned 23. (Chuckles). Why, I once ran into Bar Rafaeli at the Four Seasons bar. Her eyes were begging me to take her home, but when she confused Derrida with Lacan, I realized that I could not be caught dead with her at the Princeton Club!

If people like Mr. Pike are who attend these events, this might go a long way toward explaining why 75 percent of the attendees are single.