I recently found a Facebook group dedicated to people sharing tales of their memories and exploits at my Fundy U. After spending a few hours reading of hands held, kisses stolen, and beer hidden (yes, hours. people love to tell their stories) I came to the conclusion that apparently my Fundy U is Sodom and Gomorrah in khaki pants. Who knew?

Now far be it from me to stop anybody from reminiscing over their youthful shenanigans. I broke my share of rules along the way and have fun laughing with my friends about it now. But the reason I’m laughing is mostly aimed at how ridiculous the environment was that made me care about doing those things at all. And more to the point, I think that if a decade later you’re still trying to establish your cred as a Fundy U Rebel then you’re missing the big picture: you’re still living with the rules firmly lodged inside your head.

At some point we all realize that people outside of these kinds of institutions don’t care how much you got away with. It mostly just looks silly that you were having to “get away with it” in the first place.

“I KISSED A GIRL!!! IN CHURCH!!!”

Lame. Lamer than lame.

Another fact of which I was mostly unaware (you hear rumors about a lot of things) is that there was also a thriving gay community at my Fundy U who evidently bedded 9/10 (give or take a decimal point) of the male population. I’m actually little offended at learning that. What am I, chopped liver? Four years and nobody ever made a pass at me. Harrumph.

But of all the things that I’ve taken away from the train wreck that is the public and full disclosure of every last sin and transgression, there is none great than the realization that if even 10% of of the tales being told are based in reality then why exactly was I being harassed for having a few CD’s that “didn’t pass” ?

“Excuse me, Mr. Floorleader, there’s a Roman orgy two floors up. Why don’t you go deal with that and leave me alone. Thanks.”

There is one other possible motivation for posting these sorts of true confessions and that is to show the fundy U administration and deans exactly how much they didn’t manage to stop. But in order to get a thrill from that, you have to still be emotionally invested in caring about what the administration and the deans are thinking. And really, who’s got that kind of time?

Personally, I’m at a point that if my Fundy U toppled into the much-farther-away-than-advertised ocean tomorrow I would pretty much greet it with a grunt of surprise and an inquiry into what was for lunch. That part of my life has been over for almost a decade. And perversely, complete disregard is the sweetest revenge of all — for fundamentalism can stand anything but being made irrelevant.

So by all means. Post your memories, I’ll post mine and we’ll all get a chuckle. But if anyone thinks that their brags of fundyland wine, women, and song are impressive in general then they need to get a little perspective. The most outrageous and perverse Fundy U student…is still a student at Fundy U.