he's just not that into you- the grad school version

Sitting by the phone- or in this age of mobile connectivity, walking with the phone- and waiting.



Waiting.


Staring at the computer screem, hoping that pressing "Refresh" once more will somehow evoke a magic wand and-Poof!-all your wishes will be granted.


Scurrying out to the post after breakfast, lunch, and dinner, waiting to unwrap, like Charlie and his Chocolate, your very own Golden Ticket.



Yet far worse than the three agonizing days of waiting for that cute-eyed boy from the bar last Saturday to call like he promised is the admissions process for dental (and presumably medical) school. Seven months later, one of my nearest and dearest is spending all of his free time (and much of mine) staring willfully at his phone and inbox, hoping to telepathically elicit a voice uttering the magic words: You're in.





These schools are teases. Like a debonair gentleman with a mischevious grin, the school invites you in for an interview in the autumn. The leaves are falling, the air is crisp, and you stride onto campus with a glean in your eye and sa spring in your step. The interview was much like a first date: palms sweaty, you spoke quickly and tried to fill the awkward silences with jovial pleasantries. Your interviewer, posessing all the rules to The Game and boasting the upper hand, looks slightly bored and blase. In interviews as in love, the one who cares less has the upper hand. Unfair, but true.

Yet, you were clever- you were. You verbally tangoed with the best of them, and you could see that your interviewer was finally wowed. Sparks flew, and as you departed with a cheerful smile and a wave, you just knew he would call.




2 days later, nothing. It's the standard 48 rule, though, so you brush it off as formality. Don't hate the player, hate the game, right?




2 weeks later- nothing.



2 months. Big. Fat. Nothing.





Your hopes all but dashed, you scan the AADSASwebsite like so many Facebook pages, scouring for any sign that he's moved on without you.




Nothing. Nothing but a meaningless update: "Under review," which is quite cruel, actually, because it delays a jarring but necessary realization for moving on with your life:




He's (and they're) Just Not That Into You.





The difference, of course, is that the prospective dental student can't simply shovel in loads of Ben & Jerry's or work it out in a sangria-fueled dance with a bunch of supportive girlfriends. It's their life, and their vocation on the line. In my humble opinion, seven months of putting life on hold is nothing less than ridiculous. Are these people sadists? Heartless? Simply slow-moving? After seven months, if you're just not that into me- just say it already!






But the truth is, there's still a significant chance that these anxiety-ridden wanna-be dentists could still get an acceptance. Hope is not yet lost, at least not until April 1st. But really, to all my friends out there still awaiting letters from law, grad, dent, and med schools-- let's all put down the cells and close Gmail for just a moment. Try to remember who we were before we got into this grad school cycle that's taken over our lives and turned us into a twentysomething equivalent of boy-crazed seventh graders. Time to say to those omnipotent, faceless admissions councils across the country that we're just not that into you!

(Ok that's not even remotely close to being true...but still, a girl's gotta try, right? Bring on the mint chocolate chip!)