Live from Madison, Wisconsin, we are witnessing an unprecedented event — every single male student has vanished.
Girlfriends, situationships and female friends everywhere are reporting mass ghosting incidents. “It’s like he just disappeared into thin air,” one girlfriend stated, holding her extremely dry phone. “One minute, we were making weekend plans — the next, his last message was just ‘Hammer UConn-7.’ I don’t even know what that means.”
Phone calls go straight to voicemail. Snapchat scores remain suspiciously stagnant. The only signs of life? A series of Instagram stories featuring three things — a crumpled betting slip, a TV showing a game with teams no one has ever heard of and a blurry, dimly lit basement scene captioned “We ride.”
Eyewitnesses report the missing men have congregated in makeshift viewing hubs — living rooms, sports bars and fraternity basements, where they sit hunched over screens in what experts describe as “a zombie-like trance.” These individuals, previously known for their short attention spans, are now capable of staring at a basketball game for hours, captivated by the fate of teams they had no prior emotional investment in.
Reports confirm lecture attendance among male students has plummeted to historic lows. An Economics 101 professor, clearly shaken by the phenomenon, stated, “I usually get at least a few guys half-listening while scrolling through ESPN, but today? Not a single one showed up. It’s like they’ve all been abducted.”
But make no mistake, group chats remain more active than ever. Across campus, messages flood in with urgent debates over whether a 12-seed is “actually HIM,” whether a random player from a school in the middle of nowhere is the next NBA star and whether anyone has a “can’t-lose parlay” (they do not).
Venmo transactions labeled “For the parlay” and “I hate Duke” have spiked dramatically. The local economy has seen a noticeable shift in spending habits, with student bar tabs increasing exponentially and a surge in orders for pizza, wings and whatever food can be consumed without taking their eyes off the screen.
How can we reach them? Experts say the only known method of communication during this crisis is to speak their language. If your boyfriend, guy friend or situationship has vanished, try using key phrases like —
“I think Drake can make a Cinderella run this year.”
“I have Auburn winning it all this year.”
“If Cooper Flagg is hurt for the tournament, I only have Duke going to the Elite Eight.”
These phrases may trigger recognition and temporarily snap them out of their March Madness-induced haze. For best results, follow up with “Yeah, I took Wisconsin ML” (even if you don’t know what it means).
If this fails, experts recommend waiting until their team gets eliminated. At this point, they will briefly resurface to declare, “It was rigged,” “The refs were awful,” and “I had a feeling this would happen,” before disappearing once again.
When will this end? The estimated return date of these missing individuals? April 8. But, in the event of a particularly devastating upset, some may enter an extended mourning period, refusing to watch the rest of the tournament and instead mumbling things like “If that last three had gone in … ”
Until then, we urge patience. And for those still holding out hope for a response to their texts, please remember — you are competing with a 64-team bracket and at this moment, you are simply not a priority.
Stay strong, Madison. We will get through this together.