Lillian Perlmutter SC ’21 examines the origin of the word “chaotic” and the significance of its frequent use in Claremont queer dating circles. “For some, to be chaotic, to attract and emit unwieldy intensity — is a magnetic, magical quality, like being the human equivalent of a third tequila shot,” she writes.
Meghan Condas SC ’22 talks about receiving old-fashioned dating advice from her mother and how her relationship with hookup culture has evolved.
Cecil the Sagehoe details a saucy week full of dates, hookups, and self-reflection. “My path to self-discovery involved roundabouts, shitty lube and tons of introspection, but I came out with a better understanding of what I want from my interactions with men,” they write.
Ella Boyd SC ’21 provides a playlist of 5 songs for any romantic scenario, from love to lust to heartbreak. “Love’s intricacies and realities shouldn’t be ignored; after all, the experiences of yearning, heartbreak, confusion, nerves and sensuality are intertwined with love,” she writes.
Relationship columnist Meghan Condas SC ’22 reflects on the challenges of developing meaningful relationships with men at a women’s college.
It’s okay to like a problematic piece of media, so long as you’re willing to acknowledge its flaws and failures.
Guest writer Emily Pugh CM ’21 reflects on her experience with sexual assault and how the knowledge of her mother’s assault 30 years prior informed her response and their mother-daughter relationship.
Cameron Tipton PO ’20 shares an open letter to the boy who ghosted them: “The thing is, I get where you’re coming from. Maybe you were closeted. Maybe you didn’t like me. Maybe you were just making excuses to avoid hurting my feelings. But ignoring someone’s existence is fifty shades of messed up. Deep down, I can’t help but hope you understand that.”
Relationships columnist Micaela Macagnone PO ’20 writes about her semester abroad in Madrid and sobering return home after her father’s passing. She reflects on how she found self care amidst grief: “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day we moved — lying on my bedroom floor, with the sun shining through the windows onto the furniture-less wood floor, sobbing while trying my absolute hardest to remember the look of the ceiling, walls and floors.”