OP-ED: Yes, I'm a 50-Year-Old Man, but I’m Not Breaking into This Dorm Room; I’m Her Big

Oh, hi! Didn't see you there—oh, you’re Rachel’s RA? Cool, cool, cool...Yeah, man, I’m just decorating her room for Big/Little week.

I’m sorry, I don’t “look” like I’m in a sorority? It’s 2018. I thought we’d be past the whole judging-by-appearance thing.

Oh, now you want proof that I’m Rachel’s big? What kind of proof? Do you even know how this works, bro?

No, you can’t call Rachel and confirm because this is a surprise. She doesn’t know I’m her big. Seriously, man, is this the first Big/Little week of your life?

Whatever dude, I’m just gonna slip in and out of her room, put some posters on the wall, leave her some candies that spell out a cute little message on her bed, and then I’ll be on my merry way. Hey, please don't call security—oh, come on. Fine, I'll leave, but when Rachel comes crying to office hours because she thinks her big doesn't love her, it's on you.