Why Is Everyone Mad That I Got Here on a Rowing Scholarship Even Though I Don’t Row?

By Sage Clark | Photo by Maddy O’Leary

THE CHARLES RIVER ROWING DOCKS – Okay, I’ll be real with you guys. I’m well aware that it’s no cakewalk to get into BU. When my mom– possibly an award winning actress from a popular 90’s sitcom–said she’d take care of it, I was all in. My mom would obviously do the right thing, and who doesn’t trust their mom? Next thing you know, I got my acceptance letter and was ready to become a terrier!

Right away, they handed me an obnoxiously red bag with the word “ROWING” embroidered right across the front. Inside, there was a BU rowing t-shirt with a note from BU athletics instructing me to “wear it everywhere I go to make sure the nonathletic fatties feel even more nonathletic.” Initially I shrugged it off, hoping that BU really took pride in their rowing team.

It wasn’t until I got invited to a rowing house party that things started to make sense, being surrounded by a gaggle of skinny twink coxswains and roided-out “hey mamas” lesbians helped me finally realize: they think I’m here on a rowing scholarship.  

Oh god. If anyone finds out about this I’m screwed! I’d lose all of my followers and even worse: my 6 '5 amazing “baby girl” boyfriend Jacob Elordi would break up with me. I knew that if I wanted everyone to keep thinking that I was a student athlete, I needed to get my act together. 

I knew I’d fit in by buying one of those fuck-ass scooters that all BU athletes seem to have. And to be honest, it feels really good going to class and zooming past all the “fatties” as Coach Sylvester likes to call them. Sometimes flying down Comm. Ave had me feeling like I finally belonged here at BU, and that maybe rowing was my passion. Who knew being an athlete felt so good?

Things were going great until a group of sapphic lesbians and their hags wrote an exposé article about me for their circle-jerk of a newspaper: The Pinky Toe. All my teammates were throwing around the made up term “nepo-baby” and they all agreed that Coach Sylvester should know about my mother’s lies. 

So, before I stand before her and her scary sweatsuit, can someone please answer my question: why is everyone mad that I got here on a rowing scholarship even though I don’t row?

Sincerely,

Olivia Jade Anonymous