For everyone who’s been looking to get fresh and zesty with their Valentine, the Clog’s got you covered. Role play can get you talking with bae like you never imagined you would. Relive the excitement and inelegance of your first date, and remember why you fell in love with that numskull in the first place. Here are some ideas to get you started.
He’s an all-American baseball protege with an applied mathematics degree from MIT and the proportions of Michelangelo’s David. He’s also your Math 53 GSI. You have come to every single one of his office hours 10 minutes before the hour and are on a first and last name basis. Usually his office is flooded with rivals. This time, it’s only you. For the first time, all the variables have been in your favor. And you intend to test the limits.
You’re a computer science major who has founded a million dollar startup and codes exclusively with Kanye West’s “Ego” playing for ambience. She spends her time in Mulford’s lounge signing petitions for CalPIRG. You’ve met because she’s contacted you about designing an app to track the migration patterns and population density of the hawksbill sea turtle on a volunteer basis for her nonprofit, of course. She’s got a table at Saturn and waits for you there.
You graduated two years ago but have just arrived in SFO from JFK. You’re here to model for TECH fashion week. It’s Saturday night, and making plans is a hassle, so you drop your bags off and decide to head into the city solo. You easily make your way past the bouncers and into Bootie SF, gravitating toward the bar. Expectedly, someone taps your shoulder, and you turn, ready to fend them off. But he’s familiar. He used to live on your freshman floor. You remember the boy, but not this man. You can’t stop staring at the crew cut that has replaced the passe mullet and the confidence that has replaced ancient insecurity. He orders two apple ales, sits down next to you and adds you on LinkedIn.
Smart looks in the books
It’s 2 a.m. on floor D in Stacks, and you’ve been (un)lucky enough to be assigned closing shift. You’re making your last rounds when you see her hiding out in the back corner, desperately trying to finish a lab on the Suzuki reaction. In awe of her determination and sound-proof Beats by Dre, you sit at a nearby desk waiting for her to finish. Thirty minutes later she’s completed the conclusion and looks up, clicking her pen. She notices the time, the empty dungeon and you, slumped over the desk despite your mild scoliosis. She’s grateful and comes over to say good night. She’s feeling the chemistry tonight.
Yesterday you ran out of drinks, or so you thought. There was that homemade sangria from your sophomore year in the back of the freezer. You, and everyone else, drank that. You paid the price. Today, you’re paying your friendly neighborhood frat boy to help you clean up the mess. He shows up just an hour too late, but is still able to save your dignity from yourself. While he’s been cleaning up your mess you’ve been chit-chatting to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t dare eat even though you’re hungry, and to your dismay, maybe even a little thirsty. You have been trying to keep your gossip cleaner than your bathroom was, but you have just indecently complimented his blue and gold overalls. Showing a row of teeth whiter than your new porcelain toilet, he smiles and invites you to Taco Tuesday.