Summer has just ended and there is no way a bromo won’t be caught looking fresh and fly in his back-to-school knee-length shorts, light-colored fitted tee or polo, and Toms without socks. He’ll have a messenger bag that tells the world how studious-but-not-too-egg-heady he is, and he’ll have a refreshed attitude reflected in his modest smile that tells you he’s matured over the summer thanks to his internship, but not too much that he’s not down to party tomorrow night.
Between the homework that he’ll put off until the day before it’s due (two days before it’s due if he’s a nerd) and the boys he’ll scope out to see if there are any fellow bromos, and whether it is a small college in the boonies or a bustling cosmopolitan university, the bromo can’t get enough of collegiate life. College is kind of like a leveler for bromos. It says to the straight world, you may not like me, but I’ll be damned if you aren’t calling my name because I was fucking you senseless in the dorms last night you need me because of my high level of education. Bromos don’t play about their education. And if you’re thinking about the bromo you know who dropped out or hasn’t pursued higher education, you best believe that boy is working some trade and won’t be trampled on. And we don’t mean that kind of trade, you cochina whore.
But back to why bromos love college…
What happens in college, stays in college
Bromos be horny and college provides a relatively smaller environment in which they are not subject to the judgment of the outside world. If you are reading this and don’t understand what we mean, well we aren’t here to teach you, bro. Like bees, bromos buzz. Gossip is our game and we know your business before it even starts. Before you even elected somebody CEO of your shit, we’re on top of it. But you don’t know jack about our enterprises. We keeps it on lock.
We’ll stop beating around the bush (shit should’ve been manscaped by now anyway): We hookup like crazy, and if we could have babies, bunnies would be out of business as a parallel for rapid reproduction. Not that we want children; our lives and libidos are too fast-paced. Straight people are too wound up in their own affairs to worry about ours, but that gives bromos the advantage we need: When Chuck is always in Sebastian’s room, it isn’t because they’re playing the new Maden or FIFA or whatever it is that straighties is indulging themselves in. It’s because they are bumpin’ nasty knuckles. The yells of joy you hear through the walls have nothing to do with some video game’s first touchdown; it’s because Chuck was a virgin until Sebastian touched down in his end zone.
Hope I didn’t ruin sports for you. I hope I made it that much better 😉
Bromos love to brag. Everyone from the femmy bromo (Did you see the new issue of Vanity Fair? That model is my cousin’s roommate’s bestie’s neice’s mom) to the macho bromo (Dude, check my guns; I benched twenty more pounds than that gym bunny Bruno), has something to brag about. And if models or muscles aren’t your thing, there’s always your education.
I go to Elite College/University in State X. I mean, sure, the workload’s pretty tough, but it’s nothing impossible without some Joe… and some coffee.
It probably goes with the gossip gene, but bromos have a thing about information and hierarchy. Each of us has the ability intake and process information with the power of seven hundred college chicks and rank that information in ways that benefit us and ours, preferably putting us somewhere on top, even if we’re bottoms. (To a bromo, power is everything. You didn’t take us; we accepted you in. You didn’t top us; we let you sit behind us. The bromo is also a powerful linguist and communicator.) Anyway, we accomplish a lot so that we have something to take to straightworld as leverage for some rights. Bragging to other bromos is just our way of keeping our accomplishments fresh for when we have to pass the interview for Conservative Company X and refuse to hide our lisp, or perfectly highlighted hair, or feminine leanings.
The college or university you go to gives you either instant mainstream bragging rights (At Harvard, we pronounce it with more of an emphasis on the first syllable) or practice with your embellishment skills (My college isn’t big, but the big wigs know about it and hand-pick the best of us for positions which you’ve probably never heard of, having gone to a more *light chuckle/scoff* “mainstream” school.) But overall, bromos are fucking Spartans: We get our shit however we have to and don’t give a shit. Bromo-economics, bitch!
Bromos love us some freshmeatmen. Our minds are so fast processing gossip at high speeds that we often get bored quickly with anything that doesn’t sparkle or keep our attention with a good beat. Every year since our freshman years, we try getting back to school early not so that we can see our long lost friends we missed over summer, but so that we can be the first on the scene to scope out the bromo freshmen.
And we’re just going to be honest: Our motives vary. Some of us want to protect the freshie bromos from the older creepers that they fell prey to. Other times, we want to totally bone them. So long as they’re 18 and older, ain’t no shame in your game. Just so long as you treat them respectfully, have consent if you’re going for a smash in addition to (or instead of) dating, then freshmen can be wonderful. Or they’ll totally be the things you can mentor and get community service hours for until they prove themselves to be honorable and capable bromos by doing some Spartan shit (like standing up to a homophobic professor in class in front of everyone) or some straight up gangsta shit (like teasing three juniors simultaneously and having them want his ass so bad, and yet sleeps with none of them as he snatch they money). That’s the kind of dude you’re lookin’ for.
There’s really not much to say. Bromos be like “WE LOVE COLLEGE!”