There is a distinct dichotomy in Kent: This paradisiacal campus with open green fields, blush trees and heavy population of beware-that-street-lamp curves is spoiled by the dreadful “pajama factor.”

To outsiders used to countless hours of fashionable girls in TV shows such as “Dismissed,” it may be difficult to understand. But once you roam the Kent streets, crawl in some pubs and take some morning classes (this is really a must), you are ready to tackle the issue.

Guess what I am talking about? The paradox is local, but surely nationwide, too. I’m talking about the modern Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde looks American women employ, with their “Good morning, I was in a rush” outfits transforming into “Give me your number while at night clubs and frat parties” looks.

American femininas are arguably one of the most emancipated primates in the global village, but this creates the dichotomy I am talking about. Women get pigeonholed into extreme styles – the jaw-dropping Paris Hilton style or the trashy, I-just-woke-up style.

It’s not a question of etiquette. Is it so difficult to comb some hairs before class to avoid looking like Pikachu after a washing machine cycle? And what about the clothes? We guys really appreciate fifth-grade teachings about associating colors and pants, but are those pink pajamas with the letters on your round hills suited for out-of-the-bedroom outings? I know some people like that girl-next-door appearance, but what about those milk and cereal stains on them?

Moreover, it’s not about American girls treating us guys like Kleenex, but the redundant dating dynamics sometimes become too obvious. It’s OK to have four guys on the BBQ waiting line, but some gals may need to take classes on effective dating camouflage. For flirting purposes, post-chat-gmail notifications and Facebook wall messages are too I-see-you-as-Carlton manifestos. We know the girls have the U.S. Electoral College equivalent in flirt picking, but we guys have feelings too, and they can also get hurt easily.

One of the first things I notice when I return to my hometown of Barcelona is the lack of sophisticated make-up savoir faire American girls display. Would it be too much to minimize your nemesis-wearing side?

Or maybe the ongoing Green movement, with its Eden aspirations for Earth, is slowly dragging us toward an Eve-esque paradise where the required clothing will be tree branches and twine only?

David Soler is a biomedical sciences graduate and a columnist for the Summer Kent Stater. Contact him at [email protected].