There hasn't yet been a good, trashy column about dating at Dartmouth yet this fall. I have been fascinated with the subject ever since matriculation, and I have been counting the days until I could get my nickel's worth on the topic printed in The Dartmouth. Hurrah! Here's my nickel!
I've decided to make a revelation to the student body -- I know the secret of the perfect Dartmouth relationship. As you read this, you are probably much closer to finding Mr. or Ms. Right than you'd venture to guess. First, you will need to relax. Ideally, you would be unconscious. In such a state, you will be most attractive to that flawless specimen of your dreams. Wait a second! Mr./Ms. Right IS the flawless specimen of your dreams!
Just like last week, my column obtains most of its substance from a near-pointless recollection of a conversation I had with a friend. I was on the phone with my friend Jess, and she was talking about a recent Wind Symphony rehearsal.
"There's this long section in one piece where I don't play for 34 measures, so I started to daydream ... "
"Uh-huh," I mumbled, in affirmation.
"Well, I just closed my eyes and went into this fantasy. It was a fantasy about somebody. This guy."
"Mr. Right."
"Yeah, he's perfect. We were walking together along the shore at sunset on Cape Cod ... "
"Corny. And this is in the middle of a rehearsal, yes?"
"Yes. Weren't you listening?" Sigh. "Anyway, this guy takes my hand and is walking with me, and we discuss everything under the sun; the past, the future, our lives, our hopes. It was warm out, and we were skipping in the sand, barefoot. It was incredibly romantic."
"Hmm ... just like a bad work of teen fiction. Did he give you a locket with his picture so that you might fondle it while drawing little hearts in red ink all over your diary? Who is the popular girl at school he ends up dumping for you? Does anybody die? Does that person die at the prom? Is there a chain letter involved? This is a really neat story! Zowie!"
"Shut up! I'm serious. Stop making yourself chuckle. I was really into my fantasy."
At this point I was trying to choke back tears of hysterical laughter. I could see Jess sitting in her chair in Hartman, with her eyes screwed shut, clutching her euphonium while letting her mind wander.
"Well, it was really nice. He put his arm around me and we walked some more, in silence. You know that you have something good when silence is comfortable, right? It felt like time had completely stopped."
Gag me, I was thinking. Stuff like this is what bad Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks movies are made of.
"We found a small hill and sat down, looking out into the impending twilight. I was hoping that our lips would brush, but I knew it couldn't happen. We knew we were in trouble, because ... because -- "
"Because you needed to play in the next measure."
The image caused us both to burst out into roaring laughter. There she sat, eyes shut and lips puckering as the piece went on, and the conductor, Max Culpepper, calling out "Euphonium? Euphonium?"
"Wait a second, Jess. You have a boyfriend at another school."
"Right, Kevin," she answered in her polished after-school-special voice, "I only fantasize because I miss my boyfriend, and because it appears to be a good dating option for me here. I don't really have time to date people in Hanover, and my private fancy allows for the release my anxieties and frustrations."
The only realm in which things will always be perfect is that of the imagination. In the world of the actual and the everyday, the people we date (or at least try to date) may not exhibit ideal qualities. We are willing to look past imperfection in order to experience meaningful moments with a significant other. It would be unfair to measure the students and potential mates we encounter here against the yardstick of an ideal person we may dream about intermittently.
Sure, the dating options in Hanover may appear to be somewhat slim (please do not respond to this statement if you happen to find yourself regularly trying to meet people at Hanover High parties, or if you are on a first-name basis with more than ten Hanover High students of the sex of your dating preference). Time constraints imposed by the whirlwind ten-week term can be quite troubling for the troubadour within. To help you through these dry spells, just relax and let your gray matter do a few backflips. You never know whom you might meet.
