We've all heard it: Nobody dates at Dartmouth. This is where relationships come to die. Or perhaps you were told that you would meet your future husband or wife in the span of these precious four years? After all, college is just an excuse to gather together the largest pool of hormonally-volatile singles.
The controversy has been raging for years and it's time to bridge the discrepancy on love and delve into the issues surrounding campus relationships, staying single and growing up.
All you need is love
Students optimistically tend to think that the difficulty of dating or finding love is a problem specific to Dartmouth or is somehow the fault of the college system at large. They reason that once out of the bubble and into the mess we term the "Real World," things will drastically improve. Free from the constraints of coursework and out from under the dark, phallic shadow of the Baker tower, people must be constantly bumping into gorgeous strangers, locking eyes, setting off fireworks and more or less buying one-way tickets to Lover's Paradise.
Yeah right.
Sadly, love outside these ivy walls is as rough as within it. We've all heard horror tales of the singles' bars. They are the older version of the frat scene, except the alcohol is more expensive and presumably doesn't taste like filtered urine. Not to mention the millions of Americans who hunt through personals, scour dating websites and take the advice of friends of friends to be set up with so-and-sos. Is this considered "desperate" or "willing to take a risk?" Do you "get what you give" or are you "looking for love in all the wrong places?" Undoubtedly some things do get better in the post-Dartmouth environment. The walls are thicker, the D-plan is eliminated and dates don't involve exposing your entire relationship to campus-wide scrutiny via romantic meals at the Hop/Collis/Food Court or Main Street, where the only way you can avoid running into people you know is by slowing down to a walk.
My love is like whoa
It seems that the only people who aren't complaining about finding love are the Amish and those who have already found it. Amish life differs a lot from the way typical Dartmouth students conduct their day, especially barn raisings, which I think lead to increased soulmatelocating probability. Observe the classy I-like-you barn-talk, "Amos, that's a fine piece of wood you've got there." And so on and so forth. I wonder if Dr. Phil (who has recently signed a contract with Match.com) has written anything about it. Unfortunately, I never learned to read Texan, so I may never know.
Tainted love
So Valentine's Day is finally over. I know it has become the cool thing to "damn the man" by denying its existence but, I just can't help but notice the in-your-face red hearts. It's the only national holiday that puts the spotlight on the single people and tells them: "There is something wrong with you, ha, ha." The only thing worse than being around for the legitimized PDA of Feb. 14 is being single in its aftermath. The chocolate goes on sale and your naturally competitive nature kicks in, pushing you to gain 15 more pounds than freshman year and add at least four inches to what used to be your waistline. We'll go to the gym after the construction is finished, and from the looks of the progress, this is a promise we won't have to keep.
The school itself attempts to alleviate the pain of the most popularly chosen day for suicides with events like "The Vagina Monologues" (the new definition of "V-day" -- one definition was enough) and the Sex Festival, which is really a double-edged sword. On one hand it exacerbates the fact that you're involuntarily celibate, and on the other, it puts masturbation on par with introspection. Almost every booth deems both activities as viable routes for self-exploration. Perhaps the banner of "Know thyself" deserves a modern re-evaluation?
It's not right, but it's okay
There is much that could be said of the Basement, the infamous den of iniquity, to which all the members of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club flock. There, among the peeling walls, glaring lights and warmth of alcohol-induced attraction, love is sometimes given the one-night chance, otherwise known as a hookup. The sober, the tipsy and observers of all kinds note the pressures of "Closing Time." It is that special hour, usually between 2 and 3 a.m., during which one's standards disappear and the horrible thought of going home alone gives rise to decisions that at best could be called "hopeful."
Ain't no mountain high enough
I know that some long-distance relationships are unavoidable inconveniences and that the two hapless lovebirds will one day be reunited in blissful harmony. But I think we all know couples who are "off the market" and hopelessly devoted to the worn photograph of Johnny/Suzie Someone in a far-away-location of conveniently-not-here whom they see barely twice a year. The relationship is hardly more than an emotional safety-blanket, a partially fleshed-out fantasy of distant memories involving being less than eight states apart. "We never fight!" is their usual give-away chirp.
Could these relationships survive the actual pressures of everyday friction for more than the length of time allotted to most conjugal visits? It's hard to say, but from where I'm looking, my love affair with Bode Miller only differs in that we've never actually met and the picture I cart around in my keycard pouch is clipped from USA Weekend. Other than those minor differences, it's the same story.
I think we're alone now
Despite controversy, I am a big proponent of the Island Effect (others refer to it as the Adam-Eve/Steve-Janet Instinct). This theory basically holds that if you are with someone long enough, in an isolated location, you will eventually develop some sort of sexually intimate relationship with this other person.
How much time and isolation required for such romance to blossom varies on a case-by-case basis, but as portrayed in the popular "Blue Lagoon" and the lesser known "Six Days, Seven Nights" movies, the outcome is inevitable. It is, however, important to note that there are no guarantees for either the happiness or longevity of the developed relationship. The existence of "groupcest" is a diluted and real-life example of this very abstract phenomenon: the "web of sketch" within the clan of Ultimate Frisbee Players, the "we love nature and each other" DOC community, and the match-made-in-heaven culture of the Navigators, to name a few.
Some have attempted to use the Island Effect to explain why persistence works for the heroes and heroines of most romantic comedies who always end up joyously lip-locked. These scholars argue that persistence effectively meets the time criterion and then simply replaces the isolation requirement with ... saturation. There are several large problems with this claim. First, the empirical evidence is purely Hollywood fiction and, second, we usually call unwanted pursuit "stalking" and such behavior is not only unattractive, but also illegal. Go figure.
In discussing my brilliant research with peers, many have pointed out the need to add a "Dartmouth Caveat" to even the mere mention of campus pursuit. My completely unscientific research shows that the aversion students have towards failure crosses over to an utter fear of rejection, a constant risk in matters of the heart. Though they seem to have no problems in investing in stocks ... I guess you can't necessarily diversify your relationships to minimize loss, though the law of averages urges the try, try again strategy.
Addicted to Love
You can always hear people reveling in how great it is to be single, how liberating it is, how empowering and how you finally get a chance to indulge in the best relationship ever ... the one with yourself. Oh joy!
While some are sincere in their independence, for others, the belief that "it's fun to be single" is either A) a lie or B) a period in their life in between relationships when they are using the lie to attract the next unwitting relationship. It can be true that too much of the "fun single" thing can lose some of its initial novelty, but one should never be dependent on others to give meaning and definition to one's life. The real danger for our "Generation Rx" is when a relationship becomes either a crutch or temporary band-aid for problems that should be seriously addressed and completely worked through. Your boyfriend/girlfriend should be a great listener, but they are not a replacement for a therapist.
By any other name
I have so many pet peeves that I'm considering opening up a petting zoo. One of the most recent additions is that of the "non-couple couple." Do you know what I'm talking about? They're always together, they hold hands, live out of each other's rooms and coordinate their wardrobes, but when you finally get one alone and exactly ask about the boyfriend/girlfriend you are cut off with a "we don't believe in labels" speech.
Fool for love
The bottom line is that everyone is lonely. The irony of the statement does not escape me, but loneliness is one of those rare states in which one finds no comfort in being part of a group of similarly afflicted individuals, though I suppose the same could be said for the West Nile virus, tendonitis and Anthropophobia.
When you live large, the worst-case scenario always involves a book deal and maybe even a tour.
