An Open Letter From Natty Light To Post-Grads Who Think They're Too Good For It


It's me, Natural Light. I know it's kind of weird for me to use my full name and I can't remember the last time someone called me that instead of "Natty," but it's a been a while since we've talked and I wasn't sure if you'd remember me or not. It wouldn't be the first time I've been linked with memory loss.

What happened? We were together almost every single weekend for four years. I was there to accompany you in your happiest moments and to provide solace after your most crushing defeats. There was even that week back in junior year before your leave of absence when you couldn't fall asleep at night unless I was next to you.

I thought we were inseparable, but it looks like I was wrong. You got your degree and moved to the city for that fancy finance job and it's like I never existed. Look, I'm sorry that I get paid next to nothing to sit around all day, but you never seemed to have a problem with it before. I know that things change after college ends, but I didn't think it would be this drastic.

Did you know we're still Facebook friends? Probably not. If you did, you might think twice about posting the pictures of you hanging out with your new friends Sam, Dale and that one guy named Stone. It's great that you're meeting new people from all over the country, especially considering how sheltered you used to be. I just feel like I'd get tired of listening to them talk about their unique backgrounds and complex personalities. I might be simple, but is that necessarily a bad thing?

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. I talked to Keystone and Busch and they say they haven't see you around either. Just last week, I was talking to my cousin and he mentioned that you haven't visited the Ices in a year despite the fact that they've always been there for you when you're at your weakest.

We're not the only ones who feel abandoned. When was the last time you said, "What's up?" to your favorite Russian exchange student? Remember when you used to pour him into your eye while yelling, "IT'S TIME TO POPOV!" The more I think about it, you probably don't, but I know he does.

I know there's a pretty good chance things will never be the same, but I really feel like we should get together for old times sake. Memorial Day is coming up -- I still remember that one year when we sat on your roof and you yelled increasingly misogynistic comments at every dog that walked by before you fractured a vertebra trying to dunk me into the trashcan in the backyard. That was one hell of a weekend.

Let me know if you want to get back together. I assume you still know where to find me.