Like Hillary, our man (or men) has done us wrong. He boards the bus to Wellesley and referred to us derogatorily as The Annex when we had been Radcliffe College for years. Despite our man's unfaithfulness however, we knew, just like Hillary, that those other girls were just amusement. He needs us. As the old saying goes, "Simmons girls to bed, Wellesley girls to wed and Radcliffe girls to talk to." Hillary is more Harvard than Wellesley, wedding ring or no.

Like Hillary, we detest dumb girls like Monica. We understand that our man might be attracted to those easily pleased, over-eager twits, but we can't forgive it. Why is she always younger than us--either the nave first-year or girl back home? We, the wise and cynical ones, know it can't last, but we wish it were a vast right-wing conspiracy instead of a squalid weakness of the flesh.

But frankly, just like Hillary, we can't tell him to hit the road. We're part of him now (literally in our case) and there's really no reason to separate. We weighed the costs and the benefits and it was clear; were better off with John Harvard than without him.

But that doesnt mean we're going to take the back seat anymore. No no. We're ready to let him cling to our coattails for a change. After all, we're getting better grades, winning awards, making our mark in the world. We've been biding our time, waiting for the right moment to make our grand entrance.

And now, we're ready to step into the limelight, just like Hillary. No apologies, no excuses, we even have our own own club (the Seneca) and were going to show those old boys what we're made of. That twerp Lazio? He's toast. C'mon girls, let's show Hillary we're made of the stronger stuff.

Meredith B. Osborn '02 is a social studies concentrator in Leverett House. Her column appears on alternate Fridays.