What better way to get some post-Spring Fling amusement than by having an unusually late blind date? Our story this week breaks the dating mold, or rather, adapts itself to the template of a usual Friday night pre-game. Either way, it sounds like fun. The innocent allure of middle school meets the magnetic passion of college life.

Ah, but alas, the last of the Blindest Dates is upon us. Last one this semester, that is. Our hope for the future: to have more people participate, eagerly and joyfully. We really just want actual relationships to blossom out of this wonderful scheme. The Blindest Date will return next year, with more hurdles and gimmicks, and a genuine desire to overcome the hookup culture. Until then, hasta la vista.—Jordi Gasso

She says

By Kendra Dawsey

What a crazy day for a date. It was the day after Spring Fling, so for the most part my body had to recover from the completely legal activities I did on Old Campus. I woke up, and my body was so angry at me. So very, very angry. Memories of the night before — or lack thereof — were still floating in my mind, like a misplaced Solo cup in a sea of refuse. Meanwhile, the party scene had imploded on itself, leaving the campus oddly empty on this Wednesday night. We were both busy for lunch and dinner. We met at Ashley’s, planning on dessert, but I was stuffed from dinner already. What were two girls on a blind date to do?

Go to a liquor store? But of course! Edith and I met at Ashley’s at approximately 8:30 p.m., went to Broadway Liquor and then walked out of the store with a nice unsuspicious black bag. We then snuck into the viewing of “Bulldogs in Bollywood” at WLH. Perplexed by the film, which we came into in the middle, I suggested we just go back to my un-classy freshman dorm and watch “Arrested Development,” while enjoying some gin and tonics. One would think that someone would be immensely disappointed by this evening, especially a senior who could be legally drinking in upscale bars or clubbing or applying to grad school or something. But no, Edith was a sport, and I appreciated her tenacity! Also, she likes “Arrested Development,” and that automatically brings someone up, like, 50 points in my book.

That is not to say that we just stared blankly at the shenanigans of the Bluths for an hour — please, do not mistake this for freshman year of high school. Instead we chatted about various topics, including majors, Das Racist, the L-Word (stereotypical, but we only talked about it briefly!), “The Kids in the Hall” and Kidz in the Hall. Edith seems like a lovely, multi-faceted person in the short experience I had with her tonight, and I would like to see her in an atmosphere where my suitemates aren’t arguing in the background over the location of a brush.

Also, Edith was nice enough to leave my suite with the expenses of the night. More points in book. So although I am alone as usual, Edith broke that for a bit, and now I have some “friends” to keep me “company” while I watch obscure Italian films for the rest of Reading Week.

I’ve had a bit of a dry spell, I suppose, in terms of actual dating. Since coming to college I discovered hooking up is an alternative to just staying at home and writing love poems about that person who let you borrow your pencil, once. I forgot about hanging out with a potential love interest without being in a drunken haze with awkward dancing in a room with bad lighting and even worse music. Being slightly buzzed in a better lit room was a nice way to ease into it.

Would I do it again? Yeah, sure, I’m open to anything, and I want to redeem the messiness of my common room.

Over and out,


She says

By Edith Sangueza

I was waiting for Kendra at Ashley’s — she loped in with a cool and easy grace, lip ring glinting entrancingly in the fluorescent light. The bell jingled, and our eyes met. We recognized each other, made small talk, perused flavors, sprinkles, whipped toppings, before deciding that neither of us was hungry. Better to leave this all behind and find more useful things to spend scene’s money on. (Lesbians don’t fuck around.)

That’s how we wound up at Broadway Liquor, debating the comparative merits of Bombay Sapphire versus Malibu. Kendra won out, luckily I guess, so we left with a bag full of gin, tonic and warm white wine. Our peripatetic date took us from the UPS store intersection to Cross Campus, where we searched for suitable places to consume our ill-gotten booty. The hunt ranged from the basement to Melanie Boyd’s office, but almost every room in WLH was full of people studying — isn’t that what the library’s for? We tried to sneak into the boiler room and the attic, but that was too sketchy, even for me. Instead, we stumbled upon a bizarre film screening of a Bollywood-ish movie, featuring the South Asian society and the Bhangra team (we heard “I’m too sexy for my khurta” blaring across the second floor of the building.)

It was cute at first, so we made a drinking game out of the moments when the sound was ridiculously off. Realizing I would soon die if we kept this up, Kendra proposed a decampment to her room in Durfee to watch “La Dolce Vita.”

We settled in — deciding on “Arrested Development” DVDs instead of Fellini, largely because I have the attention span and emotional stability of a fruit fly right now — I handed in my senior essay this morning — and I attacked the wine bottle with her roommate’s corkscrew. We drank warm Prosecco (well, Kendra drank G&T cause she’s clearly a badass) while watching the misadventures of the Bluths and discussing majors, hometowns, Yale and musical tastes. (Somehow, Tegan and Sara only came up once…). Kendra and her suitemates were warm, welcoming and fun, and they didn’t make me feel as sketchy and lecherous as I should have. Until my father kept calling, asking whether I’d started looking for apartments yet, and exactly how I was expecting to support myself on my “salary” next year. That’s when I realized I’m too old for this — Kendra still has all of Yale before her, while I should probably start looking for some cats and a sperm donor about now.

I’ve never been a fan of May/December relationships, especially when I’m on this side of the equation. Still, it’s comforting to know that Sappho and the Co-op are in good hands!