Valentine’s Day has a way of making us old loves, proof that the memory often lasts longer than the romantic encounter.
As frosh, there are many things that you cannot understand about university life until you experience them. The first is often realizing just how “small” a small university is.
Rachel—I’ve left out her last name to protect her privacy, but she could be any one of us—was no different. She found her first trip to the Leonard cafeteria overwhelming. This wasn’t her high school anymore—thousands of people and only a few of them knew her name. She found there was a certain level of freedom in that.
Unsuspecting Rachel found herself at a party a week later, where she met a friendly and interested engineering student, whom I shall call “Frosh Boy.” Revelling in her newfound autonomy, Rachel accepted his offer to walk her home, and promptly made out with Frosh Boy afterwards, never expecting any consequences. After all, this wasn’t high school anymore, and she would probably never see him again.
After a wholly unsatisfactory snogging experience, Rachel helped Frosh Boy find his way home. The next week, Frosh Boy was calling three times a day, and Rachel found her anonymity wearing thin.
“Apparently repeatedly not answering the phone is no way of ensuring that I won’t run into him on Union Street at least once a week for the rest of my life, or that he doesn’t work at not one but three stores downtown,” Rachel said. Cut to two years later. Rachel said she continues to see Frosh Boy an average of three times a week around campus.
It is a proven fact—proven on my experience alone—that anyone you do not want to see will be in at least two of your classes. Anyone you do want to see will go unseen and unheard from for weeks on end. This is Murphy’s Law for the small university.
Of course, most students don’t wait until university to start smooching, so why doesn’t this happen in high school?
The answer is that it does, but when the geography consists of one building and a much smaller population, you are forced to get over it. You know each other a little better, so you can talk about it—and hopefully, eventually laugh about it—and move on.
Here, the amount of anonymity is just enough to stop you from going up to the smoocher and talking about what happened.
What about our disheartened heroine, Rachel? What if she were to say to Frosh Boy the next time she saw him (which is likely to happen within the next 15 minutes) something like “That whole Frosh Week thing was lame. How have you been since then?” My overactive imagination cannot help but dream of the reunion of two soulmates, separated since their first expression of Frosh Week love, coming together and pledging their undying devotion. Or maybe it just won’t be so awkward the next time Rachel and Frosh Boy meet in line at the Common Ground.
This Valentine’s Day, we need to start acknowledging midnight actions during daylight hours. Or you can start mapping out a route around campus and at the time of your next romantic encounter, divide up certain streets and buildings between the two of you.
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