I just don’t understand how Cosmo, and Vogue, and my Mom keep telling me, “it’s empowering being single” because it IS NOT. I really, really want to marry someone, settle down, and have three children whose names are Kathy, Princeton, and Radcliffe, and bake pies in the kitchen and wear full skirts, okay?! But that’s getting ahead of the point. Since we’re both always thinking about meeting that special person, here are some places on campus we’ve fantasized about meeting them.
In the servery, when I drop something.
Picture this: we both drop round, ripe apples, and then pick them up at the same time. We stare into each other’s eyes, longingly. We laugh about how crazy a coincidence it is, and then the one walks me back to my round table on old side. The next day, they’re texting me in class asking me to get coffee. Amazing.
At the KAC.
We both stare at each other. I’m on the elliptical, very gassy and secretly farting because that’s how running makes me feel. Then, I look into the weight room, and there’s the one, lifting up a 6,000 pound weight made from the tears of Chris Hemsworth and the sex appeal of Benedict Cumberbatch and Kate Hudson’s love child. We see each other at the gym for the next few weeks. I eventually ask their name. We then get married in Peru and start an animal shelter in Australia.
That one corner of the DKE lounge where people always make out.
Not that people aren’t making out everywhere, but you know the corner I’m talking about. The smell of beer and your sweat mixing will create the perfect romantic atmosphere. Wouldn’t it be great to meet your person there? Wouldn’t it be great to make out? With anyone? (Anywhere?)
Just, y’know, hangin’ out in the lib.
It’s a late night before an exam and I’m chugging that burnt tasting peirce coffee. It’s bitter, like I am, because I haven’t found the one yet. But then, a sexy econ major who’s sitting right by me bites their lip and winks. I swoon. They have to take me to the hospital in their car, because I’ve passed out. On the car ride there, we realize we are meant for each other. On the car ride back, we already have our sparkly engagement rings.
The throne in third-floor ascension.
Imagine: you walk up the middle staircase and lay eyes on them as soon as you step into the doorway. They are already looking at you (they could feel your presence approaching). You wipe the sweat off your upper lip and attempt to slow your labored breathing. You admit to yourself that you really need to KAC more. They beckon you to them with a twitch of their finger, and you approach as if in a trance. You proceed to engage in a complicated and sensual introductory conversation using no words because it is the third floor of ascension and you respect the damn rules.
In line for the Farr bathroom.
You’re on your way home from rehearsal on a Tuesday night and you really have to poop. It’s so bad you can’t make it home, so you stop at the Farr bathroom. No one will be there, you tell yourself. It’s after 10 pm! Besides, I need to use this bathroom before it’s destroyed for the 2020 plan. Lo and behold, the bathroom is occupied, but you wait anyway, and when the user exits, you become lost in their eyes (and they in yours) and forget all about the hot load threatening to burst out of your a**hole. You talk to them and fall thoroughly in love. Maybe you poop your pants, but you don’t notice.
Passing them every MWF on your way to class.
You know this has already happened. Make your move already.