Li, blinded by blissful coupledom, ignores Fleischer.
You’re just too busy—we get it. And yes, Harvard students are sadomasochists in a completely nonsexual way (“Wow, you’re taking six classes, playing lacrosse, and student-conducting HRO?”).
But come on, the menu is nothing to complain about—we’re just picky eaters. When are you ever again going to have such a smorgasbord of talented, wonderful, and deliciously awkward people? If you’ve ever tried to pick someone up at a bar/club/rock show, I’m sure you’ll agree: after traipsing around with violin prodigies, Olympic medallists, and of course, Spee boys, a 33-year-old light technician, however charming, just doesn’t match up.
At times when Harvard is kicking you in the ass, dating someone provides a little butt padding. Plus, you’ll never have the problem of adding flair to your relationships—the “challenges” of Harvard sufficiently prevent you from sitting in a room with your boo, fiddling your thumbs, and wondering, “Gee, what should we do now?” At the very least, you should be able to muster a romantic study date in Lamont (read: true love).
Harvard’s romantic scene may be limited to the “marrieds” and the hookups, but let’s be honest, UHS would be prescribing a lot less Prozac if more students let themselves embrace the former, more geriatric lifestyle.