This week I had to write a reflection essay for CFS 388: Human Sexuality. Since my roommates find my love life pretty funny, I thought you might, too. Enjoy:

The most unique aspect of my sex life at Syracuse University has nothing to do with the Miley Cyrus action figurines on my shelf. Nor is it related to my intense hippopotamus fetish.

Rather, the most remarkable part of my love life is how closely it resembles my favorite song, ‘Ms. Fat Booty’ by Mos Def.

Granted, since I got here I’ve yet to experience anything close to the nine-month roller-coaster ride Mos and Sharice have in the song, but the range of emotions the rapper goes through during this four-minute epic fits in perfectly with nearly all of my various flings.

(Yes, the Jewish kid from the suburbs of Washington just compared himself to a Brooklyn rapper. Word to your mother.)

Phase 1: In she came with the same type game/The type of girl givin’ out the fake cell phone and name.

OK, I don’t usually come away from my female encounters with an alias and a fake number (except for that one time my Spanish teaching assistant gave me a six-digit number and said her name was Evita Peron), but I tend to fail miserably with first impressions.

(Especially if she has what Mos Def would call an ‘a** so fat that you could see it from the front.’)

If I’m interested in a girl, nine times out of 10 my first impression ends with a loud insult and an Ugg boot to the gut. For Mos, the results are identical:’I tried to play it low key but couldn’t keep it down/ Asked her to dance she was like ‘Yo, I’m leaving now.’

It’s like we’re long-lost relatives. (Is there any chance ‘Mos’ is short for ‘Moses’?)

Phase 2: Say word, you is the same pretty girl that I had priorly observed

This is where Mos and me work some serious game, albeit from different angles. In the song, he captures Sharice’s heart with the typical ‘I’m a famous rapper and really friggin’ cool’ strategy.

I like to use the ‘I’m sorry for those offensive things I said, and please tell your grandmother I’ll fix her walker’ strategy.

Either way, if I’m lucky enough to meet the girl a second time, things usually go well. I get over my nerves and go all Aladdin on her Jasmine. Boo-ya.

For both me and my Brooklyn brother, the results go something like this:

‘We conversated, made a laugh, yeah you know me bro/ I’m about to merc, I say peace to the family/ She hop up like ‘How you gonna leave before you dance with me?’

‘So, can I call you some time?’

Phase 3: She touched on my eyelids, the room fell silent.

I could probably explain this phase with the ‘Pleasuretown’ scene from

‘Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy’ (minus the rainbows, WITH the unicorns), but that wouldn’t be worthy of a sophisticated work of collegiate academia like this one.

So, professor Fanelli, to quote your lecture, I’d describe my interaction with ‘Ms. Fersh Booty’ as somewhere between ‘Storge? and ‘Ludus’ from ‘Lee’s Six Types of Relationships.’

I say this because it has a ‘Storge’ relationship’s ‘comfortable intimacy’ in addition to a ‘Ludus’ relationship’s ‘fun and strategy.’ We laugh, joke and sometimes even play ‘Hungry Hungry Hippos.’

Mos has the same type of luck, plus he tests Kaplan’s theory on female orgasm recovery when he ‘smashed it like an Idaho potato.’

Phase 4: Wake up the next morning, she gone like it was magic.

Unfortunately for both me and Mos, the good times never last as long as we hope. In the song, Sharice leaves him when he asks her for a commitment after nine months of dating.

For me: either she doesn’t call, I don’t call or she decides ‘We should only see each other during office hours.’

Regardless, when push comes to shove, ‘My 9-1-1 wasn’t answered by my fly Taurus enchantress.’

Danny Fersh is a sophomore broadcast journalism major, and his columns appear every Wednesday. Check out the Fresh Squeeze this Friday at dailyorange.com to watch him throw down in a rap battle with Barbosa. (It’s true. We tried to talk him out of it.) He can be reached at dafersh@syr.edu.