Emma Sawatzky, Staff Writer
February 14, 2024
By the time February rolls around, love is in the air, and conversation heart candy is back in style. The good news? You’re finally in a relationship for Valentine’s Day. The bad news? You would do anything to get out of it. Young love isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, and you’re just itching to break free from these harrowing confines. The only problem is that you’re too dazzling for your own good, and your significant other remains positively enamored.
Don’t fret, though, for there is hope. Although it may require a breach of moral codes, a transformation into the most contemptible version of yourself might just do the trick.
You’ll start subtly so as not to invite any suspicion of foul play. This entails smaller-scale offenses, like pushing a door that only opens when pulled. With every fiber of muscle engaged, you will not rest until this unfortunate door surrenders. Chivalry really isn’t dead, and you’re determined to hold it open for them. If your mutterings of frustration haven’t already sent them towards an alternate entrance, this tactic will at least invite a reassessment of priorities.
Your next step is yet another Old Castle lunch date with your significant other. It’s cozy, it’s romantic, and it absolutely must end. Hand in hand, the two of you amble towards the food line, only to realize that today’s hot meal is deconstructed shepherd’s pie. Fantastic. You load up your bowl, flinging corn and ground beef every which way. Your significant other leads you through a throng of hungry students and teachers, and you know this is your moment. They watch, horrified, as you loosen your grip on your bowl. With a commanding clatter, your deconstructed shepherd’s pie falls to decorate the Castle floor, and there isn’t an eye or ear left unaware. Classmates stop in their tracks, eyeing the two of you with distaste and disgust. You conceal your wry smile. Score.
Shortly after, your once-devoted admirer might coincidentally go home sick for the day. Although this may interrupt your well-earned momentum, it will allow you to regroup and scheme for tomorrow. You’re playing the long game, my friend, and you’re about to be crowned the victor.
The next morning, you’ll skulk through the hallways of Henderson Arts Center until the clock strikes 7:59. You adopt your most disheveled persona and wind up for a sprint into Lawrence Auditorium. The very last one to squeeze through the closing doors, the sounds of heavy breathing will echo and meet 800 ears, including those of your significant other. The drop of a pin would be discernible as your entire row stands up to accommodate your tardiness. Utterly sinful.
Assembly ran short today, and the prefects are surveying the crowd, asking, “Are there any more announcements?” Boy, are there. Well aware this might permanently tank your reputation, you take a deep breath and rise from your seat. Clearing your throat, you look to your significant other and unleash the seven most binding words in the English language: “Will you go to prom with me?” The tension is palpable as heads turn to cast a spotlight on your stricken beloved. Seemingly unimpressed with your initiative—it’s only February—they refuse to meet your gaze. I’ll leave the rest of this scene to the imagination, for how it plays out is almost too incriminating to print.
At this point, you’ve made groundbreaking sacrifices on your path to full autonomy. You’ve become a spectacle, a dunce, the image of ridicule. You have morphed into the picture of evil, a cautionary tale for anyone ever considering falling in love. It’s undeniable that sacrifices have been made. Rest assured, it is certain that nobody will pursue you anytime soon.
(Photo Credit: Zack Mittelstadt)
