I was perusing the Internet yesterday, doing some research for my 17th century literature class when one of my Google searches somehow managed to pull up a link entitled “Hottest Student Bodies.” I couldn't remember which of the authors we had studied had written that one, so I decided to do the academic thing and investigate further. You can imagine my disappointment when I discovered the article had absolutely nothing to do with literature, but was instead a list of the 50 hottest colleges ranked by looks (girls) alone. These lists being the sole reason I decided to attend Vanderbilt, I eagerly read on. I figured we'd be something like top ten, maybe twenty if they somehow caught us without makeup on. Apparently, we've been putting on weight. We're 31. 31. What?

I know for a fact we are much hotter than that. I immediately started paging through numbers one to 30, and it's awful. Duke? Woof. Michigan State? Please. Utah?! Are you kidding?! I couldn't believe what I was reading. As I looked through the list, past all the drunk blondes, it made me realize how lucky I was to go through college with girls like you. Honestly. Sure other girls are hot. Of course that girl from USC is hot, but she's also probably the most likely to get spit out the bottom of the porn industry. But you're different.

You're smart. I can't speak for every guy of course, but the fact you can tutor me in Spanish is hot. Plus, you can give me your notes when I miss class, and I know I'll be all right. Seriously though, I don't think some people appreciate the fact we go to school with a very intelligent group of women, and it couldn't be nicer.

You're fun. I love the fact I call you at 4 p.m. and, sometimes, you've been drinking. You come up with outrageous ideas about what we're going to do today, and occasionally we'll do them.

You know what you're talking about. You've traveled. You understand there is a world outside of your home state. You've been there. While these things themselves are not cool, what you've learned from them is. Sometimes I talk to you and I realize I know absolutely nothing about the world around me.

You're hot. You're not the Jenn Sterger porn star type, and it’s a good thing. You know exactly how to smile and make it mean something. You can do more with a sundress than those girls can do with a g-string. That's not to say that, should the mood strike you, you shouldn't try one on.

You have your life together. The fact I don't have to worry about tons of excess baggage in disguise is great. You don't call me at 5 a.m. asking to be picked up at your drug dealer’s house. These things may sound outlandish to you, but this is because you're not recently released from the psych ward at Arkham asylum.

Your family has money. There, I said it. I'm not saying I'm planning our Christmas card together, but it's cool if your family has a 60-foot yacht in Nassau that we could spend a weekend on. A week in Aspen for spring break next year in your Aunt's condo? Only if you want to, I wouldn't want to impose … ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Oh, if I promise to bring it back by five, can I borrow your BMW? These aren't legit reasons to like someone of course, but they sure are perks.

You know what you want. Confidence in a woman is hot, I don't care what anyone says. You don't need constant attention because you're secure enough in yourself to be on your own. You're almost too good at this; you never call anymore. Was it something I said?

You have dreams. You may not know what you want to do next year, or next minute, but that's not what I'm saying. You know where you want to be, and you're not content to just move back home. Seeing how you’ll get there is going to be half the fun anyway.