During the break I scored a date with a super-hot girl I worked with at a day camp. Excited, I gladly braved the 40-minute commute from my house to the camp to meet her.

When I arrived, I ran into my boss. Unaware of my planned rendezvous with my co-worker, she thought I was just visiting the camp.

‘Where’s Annie?’ I asked her, excited.

‘Oh, she left with (my co-counselor) Colin,’ said the boss. ‘I think they’re dating or something.’

Ouch.

Now, every guy reacts differently to rejection. Some are so used to it that they pick themselves up, take it in stride, and head straight to the next ‘Star Trek’ convention.

Some are sensitive and wallow in self-pity for a week, watching nothing but romantic comedies. Or soft-core porn. Like it makes a difference.

But for me, there’s only one way to deal with rejection in a mature and satisfying fashion: Revenge.

This year I made two New Year’s resolutions: lose enough weight to fit into my little black dress, and take revenge – not just on Annie, but on all womankind. Fellas, if we work together, we can start a revolution. Syracuse, get ready!

First, I’m calling on all boyfriends, boy toys, side dishes, gigolos, man-whores and playas to hold out on their female counterparts. That’s right, girls, a full love embargo. No sex, no fooling around, and worst of all, no cuddling. We won’t even hold your hand and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

Next, I want all guys to end their chivalry and begin practicing brutal honesty to every girl who asks their opinion.

Ladies, in case you’re wondering: no, he does not enjoy hanging out with your friends just to spend time with you; no, he would not be helping you on your calculus midterm if you did not put out. And yes, Shamu, that dress makes you look huge.

Finally, we must make all girls pay to get into parties at the same rate that guys do. It’s drastic, but it might just do the trick. For every sausage-fest frat-blowout after the X chromosome tariff takes effect, somewhere else on campus will be a dozen lonely girls wishing they could pony up the cash to hang with the boys. That’ll show ’em!

I know it sounds harsh, but by God, the Revenge of the Dudes will come in 2009. It’s high time these chicks started paying an eye for an eye, and tats for their tits. So, who’s with me? Lord knows us men should hold the power in our society again. We haven’t been this desperate since the debut of ‘Sex and the City.’

Maybe I’m taking this New Year’s resolution a little too far, but this is too important for half measures.

It’s time for a revolution. Short of burning our Jockey shorts and marching on Washington, this is the only way I know how to do it.

We must band together. If we work as one well-oiled bro-machine, the results could be bro-tacular.

So please, please join me. These are big plans, and I need your help. For those interested, come to the Sadler Hall lounge. I’ll be the one in the little black dress.

For everyone else, remember: come second semester, we have two choices: let the ladies crack the whip and sell out to the almighty vagina, or hang together and settle one personal vendetta with all-out gender warfare.

I trust you’ll make the right decision.

Danny Fersh is a freshman broadcast journalism major. His columns appear weekly and he’s a size two. He can be reached at dafersh@syr.edu.