Last December, the Stanford Marriage Pact exploded into a campus pop culture phenomenon. Initiated by a gung-ho econ student and spurred by a successful email and flyer campaign, the Stanford Marriage Pact reached feverish heights. Even Stanford Memes for Edgy Trees took a break from CS memes to mock the people who pretended to be too cool for the pact, but were secretly checking their inbox every five minutes. This was disruption beyond Peter Thiel’s wildest dreams.
Yet, the Stanford Marriage Pact proved that there was no golden formula for love. Frustration exploded when multiple people got matched with their siblings. The senior-freshman match became a running joke. Hundreds of friend requests were never accepted, continuing to sit stagnant in Facebook inboxes.
The frenzy disappeared just as suddenly as it came, but it revealed fundamental truths.
One, Stanford students just don’t get along with commitment. Stanford flakiness doesn’t translate well to real-world relationships. How many conversations have I had with perpetually single friends or friends stuck in “it’s complicated” situations? One guy literally told me that he refused to fill out the Stanford Marriage Pact simply because it said “marriage” in the title. “It’s not actually binding,” I said, flummoxed. “I know, but still,” he replied, stubbornly.
Even when the results were hand-delivered to your Gmail (or Outlook for you young folks), the activation barrier of actually reaching out and making plans was too much. I can count on one hand the number of people I know who ended up meeting their match face to face. More often than not, both parties were “too busy” or it was too awkward to cold-email a random freshman or maybe, there was an unspoken understanding that you had hoped your match would be someone else entirely.
Two, Stanford students might be the largest group of under-25 startup owners in the world, but they don’t know what they’re doing when it comes to romance. The stereotype of the “millennial” who doesn’t know how to date because they’re always swiping on Tinder isn’t completely unfounded; see: multiple New York Times Modern Love columns. However, the idea that the romance problem would just go away if only the damn millennials would put down their phones is hilariously simplistic.
There’s no denying that technology, from social media to smartphones to airplanes, has changed the way we interact with each other and the world. We live in a world that’s undeniably more complex than the one our parents and grandparents lived in. We study abroad in different countries, we Tweet and email and Facebook Messenger across the world. We have an unlimited number of options, and too much of the world left to explore.
How do we fix this? We start by being honest. Last weekend, I was walking down the Row at night. Behind me, two guys debated whether a girl was actually interested in one of them.
“I don’t want to say anything unless I’m 150 percent positive.”
“I know, you don’t want to ruin a friendship like that.”
They continued walking in a solemn silence, thinking, perhaps, of past lovers or never-lovers they missed because they were never 150 percent sure. The stars were out, the distant sounds of bass echoing down the street. I wondered how many other people were talking about the same thing, curled up and crying in a friend’s arms, pondering a late night read receipt with no response.
Algorithms can’t sort out the glorious messiness of the human experience. But we can help each other out. Send me your questions, your problems, what’s keeping you up at night. They can be about unrequited crushes, breaking up with a true love, trying to find a future career to love or dealing with family drama—the opportunities are endless. Sometimes all we need is a little guidance; a compass, if you will, to guide the way. Let’s keep this conversation going.
Love,
Cardinal Directions
Send Cardinal Directions your questions at thegrind ‘at’ stanforddaily.com.