Maria Arozamena

Simple answer: no. Long, drawn-out answer: maybe?

Boding confidence is not exactly a prominent quality among our peers, perhaps because you can never fully take the quiet, smart kid out of people. You put everyone who chose to hit the books instead of hitting “it” in one environment and wonder why dating here isn’t abundant. Yale students physically struggle to pick up on and make any romantic advances. The awkward hesitation, the overanalysis of every interaction — it’s like watching a slow-motion romcom where nobody gets to the kiss.

More often than not, this oh-so-familiar Yale personality leaves you decoding cryptic texts, questioning vaguely friendly gestures and ultimately feeling lost. Did that prolonged eye contact in section mean something? Was the half smile they gave you in the line for coffee flirtation or just indigestion? The lines blur, and soon you’re playing an endless game of emotional charades.

So, where do you go from here? How do you bag that special Yalie?

Embrace the absurdity. Wanting love, wanting to be loved and wanting to love makes you human. It’s universal. But being here, surrounded by 6,000 slightly eccentric and perpetually overcommitted individuals, makes you question whether you’re doing it all wrong. Should you be sliding into DMs between problem sets? Is it weird to ask someone out after discussing 17th-century poetry in your English seminar? No, it’s practically a subplot from a Jane Austen novel. Seize the moment — Mr. Darcy would approve.

The thing about love at Yale is that it’s not always obvious. It’s buried in sarcastic remarks, awkwardly phrased compliments and a general aversion to emotional honesty. But it’s there. It’s in those late-night conversations about the meaning of life. It’s in the shared stress of finals week. It’s in the quiet moments when you’re just two people trying to figure it all out.

Instead of wondering for the remainder of your four years at Yale, love loudly. Send that text, stalk that profile — but, like, not in a creepy way — and ask them for that dinner. Channel your inner 2000s rom-com protagonist. Stand in the rain if you must. Instead of wondering if you’ve royally embarrassed yourself, believe that maybe, just maybe, it all works out. Never apologize for caring about someone. Never apologize for hoping.

But if you do put yourself out there, be wary: yes, this is a small liberal arts school. We know about that date you went on and the way you chew with your mouth open. We know about that Yale couple and the fight they had in Berk. Yale is way too small and way too nosy. Everyone knows everyone, but you shouldn’t give up just because a few people might know about that awkward encounter. That time you burped while explaining what state you’re from? Totally irrelevant by next week.

True love isn’t about grand gestures or perfectly-worded confessions. It’s about the messy, awkward, sweet moments that make you feel alive. So, search for that uncompromising, unrelenting love. Tell that random fact you really care about, even if it’s niche. Share your fries, even if you’re starving. Put your heart out there, even if it feels like you’re gambling it all. 

And if it doesn’t work out? Well, at least you tried. At least you lived — really lived — instead of sitting back and waiting for life to hand you a story.