An open letter to a John’s May Ball Ticket
To yours truly from every Cantab ever xoxo
I don't really know how to put this and I'd prefer if you were honest with me, but I am desperate/frenzied/frantic/anxious to get my hands on you once and for all.
Where have you been? Why are you playing so hard to get? Did you not see my Marketplace posts? Did you think nothing of my application? Do my efforts mean anything at all to you?
I mean, what about "looking for a John's ticket – am desperate!!! xoxo", doesn't scream urgency? What more must one do!
No, I'm not about to make some sort of wild compromise and pour libations out to the Committee or grovel at your feet but it would put my mind at ease to get a few things off my chest…
I'm running out of time and I'd quite like to make my desire known before it's too late because believe it or not, I've already blown half my loan and half a day of organised "revision" on my third ASOS order of the week for the very dress which I shall sport to your fabled event.
Without being too cliché, I have always wanted you. From my infant last days of sixth-form with the glittering promise of fancy balls, halls and traditions driving me through that last poorly-structured sentence of my A-Levels to that first week I arrived in this town and became best friends with a Johnian in the Cindies toilet. You have always been on my mind and I do really mean it.
I have searched, scoured and solicited you to no avail. And just when I thought you were within my grasp, alas, you were gone; as short lived as that tenuous agreement drawn up with the Johninan I sat next to in lectures for three weeks who promised to secure me a ticket (deal sadly fell through, I cannot simply think why…)
But tell me, is that not devotion enough?
Ok fine. Devotion aside, you should at least take pity on my exhausted, sleep-starved, fun-deprived self.
I've managed to scrape my way through Tripos exams which, by the way, is no mean feat. All-nighter after all-nighter, low 2.2 after low 2.2 and passive aggressive supervision report after passive aggressive supervision report and I'm still (barely) standing.
I've endured much: from the scathing critique from my supervisor towards my highly original ideas and interpretations, or so I thought, to making it out of bed for 10ams after a heavy Sunday. Call me talented, call me brave… but modesty aside, it would be great to receive some sort of solace in the form of a lavish, ritzy fiesta to rival all fiestas.
What I'm saying is that I really have every reason to go. I've grafted, struggled and lugged myself through one or if you're like our more advanced peers, maybe even several years of a Cambridge education – now that truly requires celebration and I cannot think of a better place to do so than yours truly xox
I'd part with the $$$$, money is no object…though my bank-account may have other ideas, that's not really the point here. Ok, maybe I'm a little more broke than I'm making out after sacrificing my most basic livelihood and provision spendings prompted by a little generosity a la Mum and Dad for all the classic summer festivities and post exams adventures, but that is not to say that I wouldn't burden myself with even more debt for you.
Also, why so stingy? We know you're loaded, it's no secret. Where's the fun in a pair? How about 3's, 4's, 5's maybe even 6's? The more the merrier! Come on now, let us come eat, drink and be merry (and exploit our investment to our greatest advantage)!
My blood may not bleed SJC and though I may hail from the lesser-travelled edges of town, walking your hallowed halls as an outsider looking in on upon all your glory, I hold you with the highest respect and I would really rather not be at Oxford, rest assured. Hard feelings aside, we're all jealous really.
My point is, I would really be forever grateful if you could grant me the unique priviledge, through bestowing yourself to me, so I can attend to this glorious, coveted event.
With all my love xoxo