Distance messes things up, and going through formative life experiences separately has posed serious challenges for every relationship I’ve known. But from the day I left home I’ve looked on high-school sweethearts as ticking time bombs and summers apart from one’s college love as a necessary evil justified primarily by the lack of alternative ass - therefore just slightly outweighing the hassle of a breakup during finals. Take long-distance relationships for example: How do you know a relationship is right if it’s not right there? I think it’s important to note that the rules weren’t just about having rules, they were for good reasons. This is the story of how, once again, I’ve broken rules 2-4. “We” are important, but not as important as “me.” Long-term long-distance relationships are more trouble than they’re worth.Ĥ. And I came up with some more rules to that end.ģ. I went from serial SAE Late Nights to serial monogamy. First semester freshman year I was prolific from then on, however, I’ve basically been in long-term relationships.
Rules 2-4, however, were out the door faster than my poor “thanks for a great evening, see you in class!” prom date.Īctually, as I dropped the hookup rules, I dropped hooking up, per se. To the best of my knowledge, rules 1 and 5 are still intact, although I’ve certainly encouraged friends to break both on occasion. Don’t hook up in the shower - the lighting is unflattering and it’s tacky anyway. Don’t hook up with people your friends have hooked up with (what I still affectionately refer to as the “Fingerprinting” rule).Ĥ. Don’t hook up with somebody you can’t track down on Facebook the next morning.ģ. Never mind that my longest relationship was barely six months, First Base was still a BFD, or that I’d gotten plastered and hooked up in the Sig Nu house on Bulldog Days (seriously, though? That’s a problem). Never mind that I was 18 years old and from a sheltered Chicago suburb.
When I came to Yale, I had five indelible guidelines for hookups.
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