It’s time for me to make a confession. Please promise me you won’t tell anyone because it will totally ruin my street cred. Here’s the reason I’m in graduate school. It’s not to get my MLIS, not even my MRS, but rather my MRSJ.

Then you can call me Mrs. Jock.

It’s a foolproof plan, don’t you see? All anyone needs for a fulfilled life is to land an athlete. And as a special Valentine’s Day treat for all the single people out there, I present you with an exclusive guide for dating athletes. Actually, this is for the committed people out there. If you’re not dating an athlete, then you better immediately break up with your current partner immediately. (I’ll give you a little break to do so before you continue reading this column).

Obviously, there’s no other option for true love than from someone who wears a jersey, works out seven days a week and can outsprint a cheetah.

It’s only in an athlete that you will find the perfect combination of swag, brains, power and looks.

You won’t find this perfect mate at Grainger, that’s for sure. They won’t be playing DDR at the Union. Or doing keg stands at a frat. Or smoking pot with the hipsters in Urbana. Or skeeving around the dance floor at Cly’s — well, maybe.

But you will find them at Assembly Hall. Or Huff Hall. Or the soccer fields. Or Kenney Gym — if you catch my drift.

When you date an athlete, you’ll get a front-row seat to all the best games and you don’t have to pay. You’ll get lots of free swag and you don’t have to work. And you’ll get your own personal fan club without even doing anything. You can fanangle in public and you won’t get judged too hard. Glamour, publicity, fame and money will be all yours. You can flaunt it in the faces of the wannabes who line up for a chance to touch your lover’s hand or take a shot with them while you smugly look on. When you hang out with a baller, your wildest dreams come true.

Yes, there will be drama. But will it really matter when you’re up on cloud nine?

I would say date a future movie star, but you never know when they are putting on a show or being real. Then there’s the possibility of dating a future rock star, but that’s just the fast track to drug addiction and an MTV reality series, highlighting your breakup.

But looking at an athlete — talk about perfection.

They’re sore losers, which means they’ll never quit early or leave anyone unsatisfied. They’re hot, athletic and throw amazing parties. Exercise gives them endorphins and endorphins make them happy. And other things. They are the studs of the campus, the kings and queens of the jungle and the stars of the stage.

There’s no question that after college your athletic soulmate will go pro and make it big. They’ll undoubtedly be the best of the best. It takes that to date you, right?

Now that we know dating an athlete is the only way to true love, it’s time to figure out which one to choose. This is when things start getting complicated.

Basketball players have swag and riches, though their tree-like height can get rather intimidating — and awkward. Baseball and softball players have stamina to last into the late innings, the All-American attitude. The biggest issue is that games are too long to handle. Golfers are the prototype boys — or girls — next door, but does golf really count as a sport? Track stars are typically laid-back and attractive, but you do have to worry about keeping up with them.

Gymnasts have the rock-solid build, but you’ll be hard-pressed to find one taller than you. Football players got all the game, but their beefiness can seem kind of lame. Then there are swimmers, who easily take the cake: Have you seen Ryan Lochte?

OK, the decision-making process may be harder than I thought. I should have known when we’re trying to pick the perfect mate from a pool of eligible heartthrobs.

I guess we can look at the on-campus benefits. Basketball players are sure to get you past the line at Joe’s on a Friday night and exempt from paying the $5. But once you get in, who will secure the quickest and cheapest drinks? Maybe it’s the wrestlers, who can force their way through any line to the bar. Then it’s all about making it to the dance floor and seeing who has the best moves. I’ll leave that one to a dance-off.

With that, my work here is done. Don’t let the fear of being played keep you from giving it a go.

Just remember: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Author’s note: This was written as a satirical column in celebration of Valentine’s Day.

Emily is a graduate student. She can be reached at [email protected]. Follow her on Twitter @EmilyBayci.