The Gavel's Diatribe acts as the satirical medium for short rants over topics ranging from complete triviality to utmost importance.
Love is in the air at Boston College, as it often is. The need to love and be loved is strong, but not as strong as the urge to see if your class crush is DTF.
If you are anything like me, you have a roster of crushes, potential soulmates, or formal dates. Maybe you’ve only talked to them once or never at all. No matter how great or small, how attainable or outlandish, your feelings are valid. BC is crawling with hot people. Hot people who are also considerably smart!
Are you thinking of them on your Comm. Ave Bus commute? Do you look for them among the Mac lunch crowd? Will your future children get into this school on legacy versus merit?
While creating fake scenarios in your mind is fun, it’s not sustainable. Best case scenario, it goes great and makes your dreams a reality. Worst case scenario, you get closure.
What do you have to lose? Your dignity? At this point, that’s the least of your worries. Nothing outweighs the potential of you dying sexless and alone. Plus, finding out the status of your crush now allows you to begin to make room for someone new next semester.
I wouldn’t advise you to do something that I wouldn't do myself, dear reader.
After pining after the same person all semester long, I took it upon myself to make a move. I spent many of the past weekends trying to mastermind a way into the heart of this person. I even went as far as putting a rose quartz in my backpack. Purposefully putting myself in their vicinity each weekend was at the heart of my plan to manipulate them into falling in love with me. Each weekend, however, my advances went unnoticed. Defeated and lovesick, I was pushed to my limits before Thanksgiving break. The idea of facing my family members and their prying questions with non-answers was gnawing at me.
So I set out with a plan. Primary goal: talk to them before Christmas break.
I came back to campus ready to get the ball rolling. Something about seeing old high school flames cuffed for the season renewed my fervor.
I needed to get outside of my comfort zone. I needed to be proactive. I needed to randomly Instagram DM them really late on a weeknight.
After enough wine to tranquilize a horse (I was sober), I did the deed.
I sent them a short and sweet message, telling them I thought they were cute and that we should find a time to hang out. You know the script.
Immediately, I lost feeling in all my limbs. This is obviously the most vulnerable thing a person can do. But, it would be worth it for my opportunity to wear white on the steps of St. Ignatius... right?
Moments after I hit send, anxiety crept in. This was only intensified by the information that he was making out with a girl (who was not me!) at a Fenway bar. By the time he saw the message, it was past time for me to go to sleep, and way past time for me to finish my homework.
Naturally, I was left on seen. But only for a couple hours.
When he finally responded, I was sick. My friend had to drag my limp body off campus. By the time I reached a safe space, I was wretching and inflamed.
“It’s not that bad,” they said. But it was that bad. How could I ever get over this boy? He’s cute, tall, and not studying finance.
Long story short, we are not together. But this is my story. Not yours.
This is my plea to you: talk to your crush–and do it now!
Life is short and your years of college fun are fleeting. Take advantage of your hotness and blame your shameless begging on youth.