Pearls of Wisdom: A lot like love

The appearance of the shiny, black limousines, the bountiful bouquets of expensive flowers and the impeccably clad men on campus can only mean one thing: it’s just another day at Stanford University, wedding photo capital of the Western world.
While the rest of the world reserves such luxuries for special occasions like the rose-colored holiday just around the corner, we Farm-hands are privy to romantic extravagance all year long. Professional photographers? I nearly ran one over yesterday. Never-to-be-worn-again bridesmaid dresses? Serra Mall is a virtual catwalk. Clearly, this campus (and by “this campus,” I mean the Quad, the Oval, and the Rodin Sculpture Garden in particular) holds the utmost of amorous possibilities — for some people, that is.
But what about those of us who actually live here/qualify for MemChu nuptials? With Valentine’s Day less than a week away, it’s only natural to wonder: where do we fit into the global bridal order? Or rather, where does it fit into our busy day planners?
Based on a very informal survey conducted over the course of my four years as an undergrad, I have empirical proof that virtually every romantic interaction on this campus falls into one of three categories, none of which resemble anything close to the classic Hollywood/Danielle Steele paradigm.
1. Random hook-ups.
These passionate, generally substance-enabled deep connections happen at colleges the world over, but, here at Stanford, they occupy a special place in our over-worked, under-slept lives. With little time or energy left over to commit to anyone other than the single most important person in the world (that would be you), many dedicated students view the random hook-up as the most realistic option for much-needed, um, romantic release.
Yes, it’s narcissistic, but it’s not necessarily evil — provided both parties have a full understanding of the expectations (and the lack thereof) vis a vis tomorrow. You will not exchange Hallmark cards on Wednesday, nor will you receive an a cappella serenade. You might, however, exchange a few words the next time your paths cross. Might.
Lest you (or your respected campus administrators) begin to worry, this commitment- and expectation-free stage says nothing about the romantic health of Stanford’s undergraduate population. In fact, I would venture to say, the random hook-up phase is a part of normal collegiate development. Nearly all of my friends, both male and female, went through a period of exploration. For some (mostly women), the stage lasted a quarter; for one (male), who still lives in the area and regularly attends sorority formals, it’s been a glorious seven years.
One clarification. Randomness exists in two forms: unknown, in which you don’t know his or her name prior to the evening’s interaction, and unplanned, in which you most certainly know one another, but not in that way. One might think that acquaintances and friends make better hook-ups, but, based on my personal experience, this is far from true (at Full Moon on the Quad my freshman year, I vowed to only kiss people I knew, neglecting to consider the ensuing awkward meals/house meetings/ski trips). In general, more prior contact equals greater expectations (this nugget of truth may be one of the few carry-overs from the Stanford dating bubble into the real world), which can easily lead to an interaction that belongs in the next category.
2. Regular hook-ups.
Long before Facebook existed, the “It’s complicated” category was alive and well on the Farm. We’ve been complicated since 1895, as far as I’m concerned. Just because Herbert later wrote of being captivated by Lou Henry’s “whimsical mind, her blue eyes and a broad grinnish smile,” we have no reason to believe the Hoovers’ five-year path to the altar was a perfectly smooth one. Hell, he was a senior and she was a freshman in the virtually all-male geology department. If that’s not a situation ripe for complication, I don’t know what is.
This category may well be the most popular option on campus. It’s more stable than the random hook-up, which, by definition, can only happen once, but it’s hardly a committed, time-consuming connection. At least until one person starts to fall, the regular hook-up is driven by the unbeatable tag-team known as ambiguity and convenience, requiring both willing and able parties to be in the right place at the right time. This issue of proximity may explain why so many of these interactions involve a staff member of some sort. Forget well-positioned sconces, everyone looks attractive under a red light.
3. Pseudo-marriage.
While everyone else enjoys free heart-shaped candy at Stern dining, a small portion (my sources suggest less than 25%) of Stanford students will soon be enjoying a romantic, candle-lit dinner in one of Palo Alto’s expensive restaurants (not that there are many other options). Also known as Siamese twins and serial monogamists, the Cardinal-colored versions of TomKat and Brangelina prefer to spend four years attached at the hip, memorize one another’s schedules, and keep most of their sane classmates firmly rooted in category #2.
Given the heft of the average courseload, it’s understandable why most Stanford students shy away from the equivalent of a five-unit class. From the moment the lovebirds wake up in their shared twin extra-long to the time they return to its miniature parameters, they are virtually connected. Thanks to technology, it’s now possible to talk en route to class, IM throughout lecture, and exchange text messages during meetings. At least until it ends in a blaze of angry emails inspired by a philosophical/political rift.

Careful readers will note that, though I am now a grad student, this column has focused exclusively on undergraduate mating habits. Contrary to popular belief, grad students do, in fact, have lives that reach beyond the lab and/or library, and some of them, not just sketchy undergrad-hunters, even make time to date. By dating, I mean coffee dates and sit-down dinners, not a walk around Lake Lag, a stopover at Tresidder, or a surreptitious meeting in the stacks (though I’m sure all of these occur, too). However, as a member of this older and wiser population, I have also learned that it is much better not to kiss and tell.

To obtain the appropriate address for dark chocolate and long-stemmed rose deliveries, contact Lisa Mendelman at lisame@stanford.edu.