Message in a bottle


My friend placed the handwritten note directly into a clear glass bottle, and after circumnavigating the globe twice, it arrived right at the doorstep of Fitzhugh Hall, just as he intended.

Nick Zugris | Cavalier Daily

Now, I must preface this article by correctly claiming that this may singlehandedly be the most important article that The Cavalier Daily, in all 128 years of its existence, has ever published. The events recalled in this article are of the utmost relevance to any and all people who dare to read the words that are about to follow. Therefore, it is imperative that this article is read until its conclusion, as the advice and knowledge seeping into every word should not be skimmed or skipped. Now, with that out of the way, I will continue. The following is taken directly from a letter that my friend at Georgetown sent to me earlier this week. He placed the handwritten note directly into a clear glass bottle, and after circumnavigating the globe twice, it arrived right at the doorstep of Fitzhugh Hall, just as he intended. Upon opening this gift, I read these words. 

“Dearest Ben,

It is with the greatest urgency that I write to you on this fine day. I hope that this bottle has found you well, as I have hopefully sent it around the world twice in order to make sure that the information found inside did not fall into the wrong hands. The message I need to relay to you can be done in a story. As you know, upon my arrival in Washington, D.C. to attend Georgetown, I began dating ———— [I have removed her name for the sake of confidentiality]. She came into my life at the perfect time, as it had been hard for me to move away from my two real loves in the world — my mom and my comfy bed at home. Anyways, she was a lovely girl and I was instantly attached to her at the hip. We did everything together. From exploring the city, to studying in the libraries, to eating at our favorite restaurant in D.C., Nando’s Chicken, we were inseparable throughout my first and most of my second semester.

Now, as you know, it was at about midway through the semester that you and I stopped corresponding regularly. Now, I’m sure you attributed this to school picking up in intensity, me having to work extra hours at my job in the library, or my intense rowing schedule. Yes, I recently joined the crew team, but this letter is not about that. My radio silence can accurately be put on the shoulders of one incident in particular — the worst breakup of all time.

About a month ago, around spring break, I took a trip to New Hampshire to visit my girlfriend’s family. Everything about this trip seemed perfect. We were really hitting our stride as a couple, and her parents were incredibly ecstatic to get a visit from The Boyfriend who was so highly praised by their daughter. I was equally excited at the opportunity to meet the people who had raised a girl who, at the time, I was incredibly smitten with. Now the visit really went swimmingly. Honestly, it did. But as the trip went on into my third day of residence in New Hampshire, I began to notice an alarming trend — I realized this is not the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now, I am all for dating with a purpose, as you know, and therefore I don’t think it’s really fair to lead people on when I realize that I do not truly love them. I think true love is real, and when it isn’t there, you can’t force it.

It was right as I was coming to this realization that she asked if we could speak privately in her room. These are some words that no one wants to hear, and a pit began to open in my stomach. She led me into the room and closed the door behind her, leaning on it as if she was a warden guarding my freedom. It was then she asked those fateful words.

She said, ‘Do you love me?’

My heart stopped. It was if God had transplanted my thoughts into her head. “She must somehow know that I don’t fully love her,” I thought, even though I knew that couldn’t be the case. So when she said, "Do you love me?” I had to tell her. I had to tell her the truth.

I said, ‘Darling, only partly. I only love my bed and my momma, I’m sorry.’”

TL;DR: It’s a Drake joke.

Ben Miller is a Humor Columnist for The Cavalier Daily. He may be reached at

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