They say all good things must come to an end – and when you think about it, they weren’t kidding. There’s an end to every song we love. The best ice cream sundae is history after that last amazing spoonful. And in sex (which, in my opinion, is a very good thing), you come to an end. Literally.
So like all other good things, my time as your favorite columnist must come to an end as well. (Aww, c’mon. Crack a smile – you know that was cute.)
It’s true, my little honeybees – our time together is up. Thanks to Memorial Day and finals, this is the last Monday of the year for us. I’ll appreciate a few tears, but please try not to cry too much. I don’t want to break any hearts today.
It amazes me how fast time has raced past us. I still remember what I wrote in my first column back in fall quarter, when I first introduced myself to you.
Haven’t been a fan since day one? Here’s the quick version:
I’m Mario Lugo and I’m a writer. I used to go to sleep at night freshman year whispering to myself, “I will be a columnist someday.” I’m not a weirdo, I’m not political and I’m not a guy’s guy.
Looking back, things have changed: For starters, I moved “Aggie columnist” from my filing cabinet labeled “Dreams” to the one labeled “Worked It.”
Next, I’ve realized that I actually am a weirdo. I’m just a lot better at accepting it now.
I’ve also realized that I’ve had a very limited definition of the word “political.” Before I’d equate it to being an activist, attending rallies and marching in protests. Even though I still don’t find myself very compelled to do any of those three things, I now realize there’s a lot more to it than that. A wise friend of mine once said, “All shit is political. Even what you do – writing about sex and blowjobs – that’s political.”
Let’s face it: We all can’t be out there holding signs, chanting in solidarity and making news. It’s just not possible. But we can appreciate any brave soul who has the guts to fight for what’s right. As for me, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing and try to educate myself a lot more about the world around me.
Oh, and I’m still gay. That hasn’t changed.
My time as a Monday columnist has been more than I could have ever asked for. And for that, I am very grateful. I could have done without the few hate mails I’ve received, but in all honesty, they made the good e-mails that much sweeter. So, my first thanks go to the haters. Thanks for making me realize three valuable tidbits in life: 1) Not everyone will love me, 2) not everyone in college spells well – or has good grammar, for that matter, and 3) even in this day and age, homophobia can still rear its ugly head.
My next thank you goes to the soon-to-be-former Editor in Chief Adam Loberstein. Thanks for taking a chance on me and letting me be me. I apologize for some of the naughtier things you’ve had to edit, but I don’t doubt you enjoyed yourself.
A big thank you to my roommates who let me write about them a few times. Even though I embarrassed you two a little, I’m sure it was a fair trade considering you got to say you live with Mario Lugo. I’m sure that felt good.
Although my column must end (for this year, anyway – here’s to hoping I regain this position in the fall!), I see no end coming to my relationship with the one person I’ve name-dropped most throughout my columns: my Arthur. Thanks for being disturbingly okay with some of the things I’ve written about us. Thanks for not falling asleep on me when I would spend the entire night perfecting each column for you to proofread one last time. Thanks for being a really great boyfriend. Thanks for being you. For being the writer I am, I’m sorry what you’re about to read is all I could come up with: I love you.
I can’t end this column without thanking you, my precious readers. You accepted me. You recognized me on campus and said your hellos and your compliments, which I wholeheartedly thank you for. A lot of you even wrote to me. You have no idea how much every single e-mail meant to me. They’re all starred in my Gmail.
I love you all, honeybees – now all you gotta do is pray to Gaga I get rehired in the fall. Hope to see you then!
MARIO LUGO wants this ending to be a happy one. Send as many e-mails to firstname.lastname@example.org as you wish. Tell him you’ll miss him, tell him you love him, tell him anything. Type your little hearts out, honeybees – and make it good.