Poke me, woo me

Once upon a power-hour, a thirsty group of students pregamed before attending the lavish ball -- otherwise known as sorority formal. Thanks to a magical fairy godmother named Natty Light, the evil stepmother of sobriety was defeated, all with a couple swigs of bippity boppity booze.\nOh, yes, beer makes everyone feel like a princess.\nBurping and laughing, this group -- myself included -- approaches our "yellow carriage," a vehicle drawn not by beautiful horses with golden manes, but by a glossy bus driver with a nappy gansta' mullet. \nIt was magical.\nAbout 10 minutes into the ride, some of the tipsy princesses began to, coincidentally, lose their crowns.\nWe finally arrived, and burst from the bus, covering the grass with a collage of fluids. Yellow, orange, red -- a virtual sunset of vomit. In the midst of this chunky chaos, however, I saw her: Cinderella. \nAnd boy was she trashed.\nSwaggering across the lawn, a girl with a beautifully beaded white dress, missing one shoe, stopped in front of a bush and ralphed. Her date, a Prince Charming indeed, assisted by holding her hair back and cheering.\nIt was at that moment I realized fairy-tale romance is dead. \nWe now live in a culture -- and on a campus -- where men believe being "cavalier" is helping their girlfriends puke ... and women believe getting a drunk dial is love. \nWhether by phone, Facebook or IM, modern Casanovas are now courting their women with goofy, technological serenades, disregarding traditional methods. \nThis is the age of digital romance. Cupid has traded his bow for a Hotmail account. \nThe conventional process of wooing has digressed to a mere Facebook poke. Romantic poetry, similarly, has been replaced by sappy text messages.\nA female friend of mine, for instance, is frequently "serenaded" with messages from her boyfriend, like "U R MINE" and "I LUV U."\nAlbeit thoughtful, the abbreviation of nouns screams of nonchalance. True, guys send their girlfriends a text, but they won't spell out the "U" ... or even use a period.\nFor me, true love is found in proper punctuation. Semi-colons get me off. \nAs a result of this pathetic courtship, many women seem to be asking: Where have all the cowboys gone?\nTwo words: Brokeback Mountain. \nI, for instance, consider myself quite the Romeo. On my then-boyfriend's birthday, I led him by hand to a covered bridge, undoing his blindfold to reveal a candlelit dinner beneath the stars. On our anniversary, I surprised him with a CD of favorite songs and a meal of his favorite foods -- hiding a love note in the cookie sandwich. \nFast-forward to our breakup six months later -- to a burned note and an excreted pile of cookie dough. \nAlas, romance does tend to expire. Thus, it's important to keep it fresh. If you're currently dating, be sure to keep romantic surprises frequent. Lavishness is not necessary. All you need is a couple of votives and a gimpy Kroger rose ... bippidy boppidy boo ... instant romance. \nAt the very least, send a freakin' e-card.