I transferred to a women’s college my junior year. In my first semester my boyfriend of three years dumped me – long distance – for a girl who I had my suspicions about from the very first time he ever said her name.
After the dumping and the weeks of my friends propping me up, I decided to rearrange my room to get rid of any bad juju he left behind. I also decided to resurrect a youthful pastime of putting up pictures of cute boys to moon over bc I had had it with real boys at that point.
Thus the Wall of Men was born.
The first incarnation was up for only a semester and was pretty cool building from just above where my pillow sat to just below where the wall met the ceiling. Some of the additions on it now are embarrassing – and totally 90’s: Evan Dando and Antonio Sabato Jr. are two I will admit to. There were also pretty boy models, headless torsos from Calvin Klein underwear packaging, and guys I idolized like Steve Martin and Bill Clinton.
My senior year the WoM went from Fairly Impressive to Really Frickin’ Awesome. It took over nearly one entire wall as well as three smaller “walls” that covered plumbing or something. It was like wallpaper with nary a space between pics and reaching fully to the ceiling and almost right down to my bed. It was a joy to sleep under it and I often found friends and other assorted hall mates standing in my room with their eyes glazed over.
We wasted a lot of time on that wall. A lot. Of time. We discussed which guy was the hottest, which picture we’d take if the dorm caught on fire, really important crap like that. If any of us had flunked out of school we would have had that Wall to lay partial blame at (the rest of the blame on dinner time 90210 repeats).
I am in the process of getting divorced and as part of my “healing” I changed furniture around to get rid of bad juju. Then I remembered the WoM and how happy it had made me, how my friends still talk about it, how when I posted scans of it on Facebook they were giddy. So I am going to make another one. Not quite as all encompassing and I think I will use those cork tiles so that the pictures can be rotated out based on who I’m going loopy over at the moment. Plus that is more tidy and if a grown-ass woman is going to have pictures of cute boys adorning her walls, they at least better be arranged nicely.
One thing is definite though – there will be NO Christian Slater on this one.