Stop Having Dates at Stommons
There’s nothing like studying for your Intro-to-International-Relations midterm in the Starbucks under Class of 1920 Commons as the crippling sexual tension of two people beside you thickens. While a lot of people are willing to put up with the number of romantic dates happening at ‘Stommons’, and some might even be invested in watching these relationships develop, I think we, as a united student body, need to rise up against it.
No, I’m not going to move to Van Pelt library or whatever. Stommons was made for doing schoolwork or having interviews with Wall Street executives about jobs for poking the poor with a stick. Your public displays of affection are getting in the way of my, and our, productivity. You have rooms, don’t you? I think a bunk bed in the Quad or the hallway of your Rodin apartment is way sexier than this.
Regardless, I have something to say to the four couples I’ve seen today as I sat sipping my steaming chai tea latte by the fireplace:
- It’s not the end of the world. He’s just breaking up with you. You’re going to get tears all over my anthropology notes.
- I’m happy you’re bonding over the state of Russian ballet companies. I agree that they totally suck. Maybe you guys should date me too. I left my number in the blonde’s purse. Get back to me.
- Is the cuddling necessary? It’s not cold today. Stop. I can’t focus when you’re staring into each other’s eyes like that, pressed together with gentle smiles. Go away.
- Dude, please, just fuck him already. Stop asking about the weather. Look at the way he’s caressing your hand. The dude wants to take it to the bedroom with you, and you don’t even notice. You’re an awful boyfriend.
