ResLife to form “LoveLife” branch, assign Valentines

by Samana Shrestha
by Samana Shrestha
by Samana Shrestha

We’ve now almost hit the two decade mark, and being single on Valentine’s day has been one of the few constants in my life. That and bad haircuts. But hey! Causation cannot be implied from correlation. I say that it has been 20 years not because I’ve actually hit the classic 2-0 (double digits) yet, but be­cause my March birthday meant I was certainly vaguely cognizant in the womb during the Val­entine’s day before my birth. Maybe I should excuse my single status on that one because dating opportunities were pretty thin on the ground; love just wasn’t in the amniotic fluid.

I think that we can also discount my first cou­ple Valentine’s Days because I could not read and write, which are crucial parts of the val­entine-giving process. When I finally did learn those fundamental skills, I used it to develop my own mini book series about my Bionicles and their adventures in the Lego bin. This calligra­phy would only have wooed the most die hard fans of assembly-based toys.

However, everything changed in elementary school, where my school enforced valentines for all more strictly than actual education. Manda­tory valentines really boosted my self esteem, and they also came equipped with powerful glu­cose laced products such as sweet tarts, and at that stage in my life, that was my drug of choice.

However, when I was in middle school, no­body gave valentines, so we were left alone, with no jolly ranchers or Toy Story-themed cards. High school singing valentines offered a new hope to vexed romantics, but it is slightly prob­lematic to reveal your syrupy feelings in front of all your classmates and teachers. Who would have done something so awkward and unorigi­nal to try to connect with a high school crush? Certainly not me.

Now I am in college, where valentines seem to be in the past and possibly in our future. As of now, we are caught in limbo; we’re not sure whether we believe that Valentine’s Day is dumb or whether we secretly wish someone would give us a box of chocolates (that would be devoured within the evening). Therefore I reveal the following plan:

Starting next year, ResLife will use its bu­reaucratic power, coupled with its mastery of the illustrious technology of Google forms, to put together arranged valentines. This could also be called “Valentines Draw.” Regardless of the specifics, what is for certain is that ResLife will be creating a new branch that will be called “LoveLife.”

Now let’s make something clear: I’m not call­ing for arranged marriages or anything. People should be able to choose how, or even if, they want to act on their assignment. However, judg­ing from the Dantian rhetoric found in the deep­est circles of the Vassar Missed Connections hell, we as a student body could stand to make a few connections.

So how will this matching service actually work? By using the trusted technology of a Goo­gle form. However, in order to encourage partic­ipation from the 89 percent of the student body that doesn’t submit to Vassar Missed, the survey would need to be short. It won’t be your typi­cal facade of survey brevity hinted at in emails with a link to a 40-page survey about Napkins on campus. I’m thinking that it should be concise.

Here are my proposed questions for the Val­entine’s draw:

1. What is your 999 number?

2.Choose from the list below what your ideal Valentine’s Day event/gift would be:

a. A wheelbarrow of chocolate delivered to your door by Valentine’s Day. No further inter­action with your Valentine after that.
b. Funny or cute card you find in your mail­box 14 weeks later when you finally check it.
c. A candlelit Retreat meal, with both parties careful not to burn the toxic green utensils.
d. A Facebook post that involves a Polaroid. All words must be lowercase, even “I.”
e. A set of tickets to see RiFF RAFF perform (speaking of lowercase I’s)
f. A gross Mug Makeout while “Down” by Jay Sean ft. Lil Wayne plays in the background.
g. You and your valentine can attempt to smile, but really grimace at each other when you meet in the Deece (follows temporally from option f and sometimes before option g).
h. A coupon good for one free Netflix and chill request without them calling you out on using an Internet trend as your opening line.
i. A romantic slog around festering Sunset Lake (E. Coli not included)

The reactions to these might vary between tip toeing in your Jordans to avoid going to a RiFF RAFF concert with a stranger, or testing the waters by entering Sunset Lake in a haz-mat suit. If none or too many of these options entice you, just know you can always tell ResLife about it in the survey they send tomorrow.

The Office of LoveLife strives to provide an outlet for social subconscious through promoting a prodigiously awkward romantic community.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *