An Open Letter to Our Favorite Stalker

Dear "Brospotter":

First off, let me say that you have given me minutes, even hours of endless procrastination over the last few weeks. Seeing as I had two papers and fifteen graduate school applications due during this period, this was not the best way I could have occupied my time. Nevertheless, I was entertained and for that I am eternally grateful.

I've learned quite a bit from your site, so I feel that all of my time has not been spent in vain. For example, I had no idea "bro" was a derogatory word until visiting your website. I will rethink calling my guy friends "bro" and will instead move fluidly to the more formal "Brosef" or "Brosef Stalin." I was also unaware of the prolific number of bros that frequent our campus (though there exist a few repeat offenders as I click through). There are so many new faces that it reignites my senior year quest to find new guy friends, etc.  Seeing as I've had two major relationships with men while at Wellesley—one with Ben, the other with Jerry—I'll admit prospects sometimes seem a little gray, even with visits to Boston and nearby campuses. I'm entering the world, so there's that new adventure. But for all my underclasswomen Bridget-Jones'-in-training, hear this plug: "Brospotter" gives me hope. If my fellow Wendy can do it, I can at least get my spoon out of the ice cream carton. It has been a toxic relationship.

What kills me about you, Brospotter, is that your premise is so very simple: Wellesley students snap photos of the gentlemen who visit or somehow magically appear on campus. These figures are either aware and excited about the prospect of being added to Wellesley lore, or they are nervous about being photographed or "spotted," so to speak. From the quality of most photos on the site, I would say that the most recognizable "bros" posed for their photos, while the unwitting receive the grainy, low-pixel phone camera treatment. I understand if the website had some sort of tagging system, like Facebook photos (you read it here: Copyright 2010 Hannah Townsend), but they don't. For me, I don't see it as an alienating situation—more like seeing a "punch buggy" during a long car ride. I admire and hope to have such a thing someday—but for now I watch from afar.

I suppose some guys do have valid reasoning for being shy around the stalker camera. Lord knows I'm the most fiercely protective person as far as my privacy is concerned. If I thought a random photo of myself was rolling about the internet, I would be a little wary, but that's more for vanity reasons.

Here are some of the Bros that might have a right to be frightened of being "spotted"—so bros and paparazzi should equally be warned and careful:

Old Bro: Most of the spotted young gentlemen are just that: young. Under 30-32, fairly harmless, could fit in at any college campus. Enter the sexagenarian. For the guy: just be aware that you'll be a prime target. Or the ladies will just be so confused that they'll forget to grab their cameras. Ladies: Think. This guy is most likely a Professor, Wellesley town citizen or family member. Just don't do it. Worst-case scenario: Your dad gets brospotted. Oomph. Talk about a buzz-kill.

Cheatin' Bro: You get caught on Brospotter with a lady that isn't your lady? This is your own fault. You deserve to be brospotted. Even more negative points if your girlfriend is also a Wellesley student. Hell, you deserve a Dateline special for that one—and the adjective "cheatin'" would be replaced with something far more explicit. For the guy: Don't cheat. Wellesley women will straight-up kick the living crap outta you.  Ladies: Don't be the other woman. And no online photos. Be careful if that's the way you want to expose your friend's boyfriend, the one you hate with a passion.

Creeper Bro: Remember the friendly fondler? He was a creeper. And while I miss the amusing Po Blotter announcements about some random guy diddling in the woods, it was a creepy, creepy time for those living on East campus, waiting for someone to shout with his pants down. For the guys: You're not going to take my advice: you're a creeper. Ladies: if you see a creeper, CALL PO. There's no time for pics, except if you need to get irrefutable proof. Though shaming the creeper sounds funny now by "brospotting" him, he probably would love the attention. Stay safe.

Once again, thanks for the entertainment: let me know when you come out with a t-shirt. I'm thinking, "Careful: Big Brospotter is watching you."