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(11/25/13 8:11pm)
Last Friday, my friend Sarah and I briefly retired from the traditional first-year nightlife routine of frequenting frat parties. A fleeting dance floor make-out with an upperclassman had landed her an invite to what was supposedly a huge house party on a street we’d never heard of. We shrugged and figured we’d give it a shot.
(11/11/13 2:50pm)
On a Tuesday night in September, I found myself curled into a heap, resting atop a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor of one of my hallmate’s room. I had been sexiled by my roommate during my first week of college. I laughed it off and got to talking to Stephanie, my host for the night. She sighed as she recounted a story about the guy who walked her home the other night.
(10/28/13 6:14pm)
It’s a chilly October night. A cold breeze chases my hallmates and me into O’Hill as we file in for a dinner run. We dash hastily up the stairs, trying to shake off the shivers Charlottesville’s sudden onset of autumn gifted us on the walk over. Someone makes a subtle yet wistful reference to “cuddle weather,” only to be met with exaggerated groans and eye rolls all around.
(10/01/13 2:49am)
Considerably unique in comparison to its less complex counterpart — flat-out rejection — it seems friend-zoning is a fine art that requires keen logic and preemptive instinct to be carried out properly.
(09/16/13 8:23pm)
“I just wanna hook up with him and get it over with, you know? I need to move on with my life.”