If you are reading this, I suppose you’ve already spent hours daydreaming about finding love at Yale. How’d I know? Well, I was a pre-frosh not too long ago. By now, you’re probably fantasizing about meeting your Prince Charming in your organic chemistry lab or falling head over heels for that brilliant girl who will sit next to you in your econ lecture. The wedding flowers will be lavender, you’ll name your youngest son Noah and you’ll live happily ever after in a big house with a pool and a hot tub and a golden retriever. Now, if you’d like to continue daydreaming about falling in love with a smart, gorgeous Yalie and living a magical fairytale life together, then I suggest you stop reading. But, if instead you’d like to hear the truth about love at Yale, you’ve come to the right place.
To start, I’ll warn you that daydreaming is a dangerous thing. We like to tell ourselves it’s uncontrollable and, at the end of the day, that it isn’t hurting anybody. Right? Wrong. Daydreaming about finding love at Yale is like daydreaming about learning to fly or getting a real-life pet unicorn. It always ends in disappointment. In truth, love at Yale is quite hard to come by. We are Yalies after all. We’ve got things to do and places to be. No time to fall in love.
With that, I’ll advise you to set your expectations low, but as always, keep your standards high. First-year Yalies, in particular, tend to be quite the immature and inexperienced bunch. Some might say there’s a special charm to being someone’s first kiss or first love. But I can assure you that the charm will quickly wear off and you’ll be left with a terrible kisser who won’t know to hold the door open for you and will forget to buy you chocolates on your birthday.
But perhaps I’ve got you all wrong. Perhaps you were never really looking to fall in love with a Yalie anyway. If that’s the case, I applaud you. And, in all honesty, I don’t believe you. Regardless, let’s talk hookups. It’s a Friday night. You’re alone in your bedroom. You had a horrific midterm earlier that afternoon, followed by a heated argument with your best friend and an unnecessarily long and dry discussion section. If this were me, I would probably order Chinese takeout, wrap myself in a bundle of fuzzy blankets, call my mom and bawl my eyes out. But you are not me, and you should probably not bawl your eyes out (although I am generally a strong supporter of a good cry). Maybe instead you’re looking to turn your night around — to go somewhere, to meet someone, to have some good old-fashioned fun. (Wink. Wink.) Hey, you deserve it. And, although I’ll admit that I’m not the biggest fan nor an active participant in the hookup scene here at Yale, I can assure you that if you’re ever DTF, you won’t be left hanging. Just send a quick text message to that guy from your physics seminar or hop into a nearby suite party, and you’ll be on your merry way. But first, there are a few things you should know.
For starters, avoid hooking up with anyone in your entryway because although incredibly convenient, that could get real awkward, real fast. And, unless they’re a literal Greek goddess or they have the eyes of Leonardo DiCaprio, do not get into bed with anyone from your immediate friend group. Yes, that includes suitemates. Trust me, that can only lead to drama.
In the end, love at Yale is rather complicated. But, in all honesty, I can’t remember a time when love was ever really simple to begin with. So, although I may have said to keep your expectations low, I’ll add that you shouldn’t be afraid. You shouldn’t be afraid to wink at that hot guy in your English seminar, to act helplessly confused in your bio class and ask to schedule a study date or to dress up unnecessarily for a so-called casual lunch. You shouldn’t be afraid to fall in love, to fall fast and hard with no hesitations and absolutely no regrets. After all, that blond guy in your organic chemistry lab or that brunette girl in your econ lecture might just end up being the love of your life. Give it a few years and you might even be getting married on a beautiful beach in Hawaii or buying a big house with a pool and a hot tub and a golden retriever. Just think — maybe next year, it’ll be you writing this article, telling a bunch of pre-frosh the story of how you fell in love at Yale.