Some claim that romance is dead. Some claim that days of boomboxing under a harassed girl’s window have past. Some claim that at Stanford, first base is sex and second base is getting their name.
Well, some people are wrong, and last Sunday, Stanford students came out in force to prove just that. The quad throbbed with the pulse of a lustful student body, but instead of the usual unashamed hedonism, the air was filled with murmurs of affection and chaste pecks on the cheek. “It was like the air cleared around me,” said Jayden Wilson, ’20, standing hand in hand with his partners Brayden and Kaden. “I was biking back to Kappa Sigma and I saw the moon, so full and beautiful, and I just thought, ‘wow. These are the men I love in my life.
’ I knew that I had to go to the quad, and there they were.” After meeting, the trio spent the next three hours playing footsie.
It might seem strange—especially to those reprehensible crones who think that university is just a place to get wasted and laid, or wasted while getting laid, or getting neither laisted nor wade—but the same story repeated itself from the Court to the Church.
And to close off the evening was none other than the campus’ beloved John Arrillaga, famed benefactor and now ascended Demigod of Love. “Truly a momentous day this is,” he thundered from his perch atop one of the quad’s palm trees, a righteous symbol of virtuous devotion.
“When so many can see so clearly that while lust is fleeting and vacuous, TRUE LOVE endures unconquered! Care for each other tenderly, and cherish your lives together—this is my decree, for nowhere else in the world fosters love as well as Stanford!”
‘Twas a sound and sight that brought many a beauteous tear to many a glimmering eye. As those brave troopers of passion carefully made their way home, looking both ways before crossing the street and not inconveniencing bikers, all carried with them the memory of a night of romance, delicate and serene.
