Volume 75 - Issue 3

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

Good morning perverts,

Look online. The kids are gooning. They’re edging. No one makes love. No one even fucks. The imagination need not stretch far to picture the dire consequences of Apple’s new Vision Pro. We’re talking front-row, IMAX, on-demand, in-your-face, on-your-face, high-def, low-effort, libido-annihilating, relationship-ruining, birth-dearth-extinction-level pornography. Things are looking worse than ever.

Despite all this, we at the Herald remain invested in those double-backed-beast-making erotic encounters, those carnal acts that take place in dorm rooms and

THE MASTHEAD

Editors-In-Chief

Arthur Delot-Vilain/ Rafaela Kottou

Managing Editors

Madeleine Cepeda-Hanley/ Lydia Kaup/Hannah Szabó

Creative Directors

Sara Offer/Etai Smotrich-Barr/ Iris Tsouris

Senior Writers

Madelyn Dawson/Nadira Novruzov/ Jack Reed

Columnists

Joshua Bolchover/Irene Colombo/ Hardy Eville/Lyle Griggs/James Han/ Maude Lechner/Judah Millen/ Joanna Ruiz/Lucy Santiago

Design

Alexa Druyanoff/Georgiana Grinstaff

Angela Huo/Helen Huynh/ Mela Johnson/Grace Kim/Kris Qiu/ Mia Rodriquez-Vars/Claire SooHoo/ Alina Susani/Tor Wettlaufer/ Vivian Wang/Silvia Wang/Miya Zhao

closets and nightclubs and leave us panting. That’s why we solicited anonymous sex stories via posters all around campus (until our free trial of qr.io expired and the QR code stopped working…sorryyyy) and sent our editorial staff tabling at dining halls to collect valentines. We got a lot. Together, these student submissions represent the love, yearning, and depravity held in the hearts of our students. Our issue is dripping with lusty letters, coital critiques, pornographic probings, and even ambitious archival research. That’s right, in Features, you will find a piece by Lydia Kaup that dives

deep into the diaries and letters of Farwell (Yale College, 1916) and Helen Knapp, an obscure couple with a remarkable love story. This issue, like the folds of a labia, contains multitudes.

So whether you’re curling up with a lover this Valentine’s Day, sending a sneaky link scootering back to TD, or just spending some quality time with the wing-bristling fairy smut reviewed by Cole Mersereau, we at the Herald wish you a fulfilling and filling Vday. Get gayer. Stay sexy.

- Jack Reed & Hannah Szabó

Reviews Editors

Theo Kubovy-Weiss/Natalie Semmel/ Aidan Thomas

Reflections Editors

Eva Kottou/Jack Rodriquez-Vars

Culture Editors

Emily Aikens/Isabella Panico/ Alex Sobrino

Features Editors

Connor Arakaki/ Madelyn Dawson/Jack Reed

Opinion Editors

Ariel Kirman/ Daviana Rodriguez Zamora

Arts Editors

Jess Liu/Eli Osei

Voices Editors

Ana Padilla Castellanos/Will Sussbauer

Inserts Editors

(this could be you! email!)

Copy Editors

Dayne Bolding/Zoe Frost/Jisu Oh/ Ece Serdaroglu/ Tessa Stewart/ Alina Susani

Staff Writers

Lillian Broeksmit/Kaylee Chen/ Elizabeth Chivers/Kate Choi/ Krishna Davis/Oscar Heller/ Helen Huynh/Cameron Jones/ Anna Kaloustian/Megan Kernis/ Sophie Lamb/Hannah Nashed/ Jisu Oh/William Orr/AJ Tapia-Wylie/ Amalia Tuchmann/Ellen Windels/ Ashley Wang/Avery Wayne

Web Editor

Kris Qiu

Business

Abby Fossati/Evan-Carlo Fowler/ Avery Lenihan Calendar

Jess Liu

Photography

Fareed Salmon

This Week's Cover

Your fav Creative Directors

This Week's SEXY-AWESOME Collages

Georgiana Grinstaff/Mia Rodriquez-Vars/ (condoms by) Mela Johnson

Seared into my Brain

Anna Kaloustian, TC ’26

Le Grand Blond avec Une Chaussure

Noire, dir. Yves Robert

Let’s start soft. I watched this movie when I was young. Mireille Darc’s iconic dress (with the open back cut as low as it can get) was at the time the most scandalous thing I had ever seen. I had no idea what sex was, I’m pretty sure.

L’étudiante, dir. Claude Pinoteau

I expected this movie to be a sequel to the innocent film La Boum, and instead I was faced with Sophie Marceau’s naked body. I also watched it with my parents accidently thinking it was a PG movie.

The Blue Lagoon, dir. Randal Kleiser

I would have given it a 10/10 but I could NOT get behind the fact that the characters were distantly related in the movie... I’ll chalk that one up to the Victorian era.

Something about Mary, dir. Bobby and Peter Farrelly

You might think that there weren’t any notable sex scenes in that movie. But the “hair gel” one (look it up) made me shriek in disgust and then laugh to the point of tears. It just randomly pops up in my head sometimes.

Lady Bird, dir. Greta Gerwig

Timothée Chalamet and Sairose Ronan? Iconic. The “I was on top, who the fuck is on top for their first time?” line??? Unforgettable.

Titane, dir. Julia Ducournau

If Julia Ducourneau can win a Palme d’Or for making a woman have sex with a car at the fifteenth minute of the movie, anything is possible.

Saltburn, dir. Emerald Fennell

I watched it with my parents. Painful.

Fairy Porn

Cole Mersereau, TC ’24

I have not had sex since…you don’t need to know that. One could assume that I’ve been deprived of any pleasure and satisfaction, but they would be wrong because I had smut. Specifically, fairy smut. For those of you who are uncultured, the Cambridge dictionary defines smut as “magazines, books, pictures, movies, or jokes that offend some people because they relate to sex.” In other words, written porn with a little more imagination because girls normally can’t get off as easily as guys do with a simple video.

I need the build-up, the tension, the hot and heavy steam between the characters. To the doubters, I ask you this: do you orgasm simply from penetration? If you do, then I am jealous. According to a scientific article written in 2018 on women’s orgasms, “women’s reports of orgasm occurrence were highest in response to assisted intercourse (51-60%), second highest in response to intercourse with clitoral stimulation unspecified (31-40%), and lowest in response to unassisted intercourse (21-30%)” (Shirazi,

Talia et al.). If you still don’t believe me, then try having a hook-up on this campus and get back to the Herald with further input.

Back to business: Fairy Smut. What could ever make a girl drop her standards so low that she needs to get satisfaction from fairy smut? Better question: what could make her drop her standards so low to hook up with some of the people on this campus? This is not a time for arguments, but rather a time for appreciating literature.

I never thought I would be the one to say this, but something about the addition of wings and the excitement of flight just adds to the entire smut plotline. While I will admit that some of the explicit language is too much for my taste, that’s beyond the point. There are many fairy smut conventions. For example, sometimes the wings are more sensitive than…other areas. Often, it is badly written. But whatever the quality, smut can offer satisfaction and an escape from the real, dry world.

So whether you’re celibate, having unsatisfactory sex, trying to learn something new, or just curious, I recommend reading a chapter or two and seeing if the pleasure you seek in the real world is just a page away. ❧

REVIEWS DESK RECOMMENDS:

Best Songs to Have Sex to

“It’s Raining Tacos” - Parry Gripp

What better song to make you thirsty than a song about being hungry! Gripp’s smooth, sultry croon—coupled with jubilant, maximalist production—makes for one of the most sensual sonic experiences available on streaming.

“The Star Spangled Banner” - Francis Scott Key

The Star Spankled Banger. The ramparts were gallantly STREAMING??? (ayo). The bombs BURSTING in air??? (pause).

“Despacito” - Luis Fonsi

What better way to show that you are a culturally-conscious sex-haver than by playing a song in Spanish!

“Sexy Bitch” - David Guetta ft. Akon

Explicitly telling your hook-up that they’re sexy is so overrated. Let the music speak.

“Life is a Highway” - Rascal Flatts

A throbbing beat…suggestive lyrics…you’ll want to ride it all night long with this song as the soundtrack.

“River” - Joni Mitchell

He’ll turn you into a river with Joni playing in the bedroom.

“Symphony No. 5” - Beethoven

Impress your hook-up with a classy pick.

“Fitter Happier” - Radiohead

This song will appeal to all of your Her/Ex Machina fantasies. Feel the groove and make a move!

“Soothing Rain Sounds (10 Hour Version)” - Nature Music

Tap into those mammalian instincts by getting in touch with Mother Nature! Hear the pitter-patter of peaceful precipitation while you penetrate with your penis!

Daydream

Lazo Gitchos, TC ’24

This would have happened on the Fourth of July; 48° north, 120° west. The poppy-ooze was obsidian black and impressively bitter. It flaked from the seed pod in crackling chips. I rolled a flake around with my tongue. It dissolved into a paste that buzzed against my cheeks and softened the feeling in my lips. Quicksilver. The petals of the flowers lay wilted near the stalks. Wilting is not a passive thing, I was reminded; as the tendon pulls hard in the bending of the knee, desiccation is a presence, not an absence. My body settled like it does after a long run. An easy stillness, inertia. I remembered being told: “endorphine is short for endogenous morphine.” I could feel each breath lengthen as I walked home from the farm. The day was hot and my family was gone for the afternoon; I slept curled up on the wicker couch on the porch and the dogs slept too.

I slipped into sleep and my chest felt pleasant, heavy, like I was blessed by the presence of an unseen cat, curled up. I dreamed quickly and vividly and my mouth was dry. I was in a sun-room, painted dark red and yellow. Above me a skylight opened to the middle of a room I had never seen. In that room six people were naked, proudly so. I went upstairs—I don’t know how—and a woman sat on my lap. Her eyes were all black and they stunned me. She kissed me with an open mouth, drawing breath from my lungs that I felt I would not miss. We sat among hanging fabrics draped like bodies, soft cotton blues and grays. The seven of us warmed to each other. Sweat

REAL AUTHENTIC DAYLISTS:

Mystical siren wednesday evening

Black cat hypertrap monday night

Soothing spanish indie saturday evening

Bullfighter hipster thursday morning

Catwalk beach sunday night

Chill study viscous jazz thursday evening

Eighteenth century viking thursday evening

beaded in the divot between my collarbones, between her shoulder blades. All the others blurred and she joined our mouths—continuous exhale. Her left hand at the base of my skull, the other searching, soft fingers leading. I reclined. She thrust her jaw at mine. Where her hand wandered there was a hot buzzing and it became the only sound, tidal, radiant.

I awoke confused; her body was gone from mine. I pulled hot afternoon air over my puffy tongue and sat up slowly. Air that reached down into my lungs did so only with great effort. My head hurt. A small gray bird was building a nest atop a beam above me. I had slept only a few minutes, unmoving. Beside the wicker couch one dog

Baseball football tuesday afternoon snored, hiccuped. I drew breath again and found it difficult. Later that night, I returned to the farm. The air had cooled after sunset. I walked through the shed and past the rows of seed-contract flowers, to the well standpipe. I bent at the waist and turned my head until I was underneath the frostfree’s cold water. I drank deeply. I filled my belly with water and washed my feet. Across the plot, the drying poppies swayed lightly, tiny globes on brown stalks, scored with a razor blade to let the ooze out. I walked around the farm for a while, dragged sprinklers, gleaned a few strawberries. Before I walked home I scraped the remaining obsidian into a film canister and tucked it in my pocket. ❧

Stranger in a Sex Club

Josh Atwater, TD ’24

The only thing that we knew about the Berlin sex club scene—that the bouncers smell out insecurity and turn away posers— had us all a little anxious. But the Americans behind us in line outside Kit Kat Club were reassuring: “Just look bored, and you’ll get in.”

Our feigned disinterest proved successful, although I noticed the bouncer’s eyes lingering on my outfit for a moment. I pulled down my sunglasses so he could look into my eyes, and then he nodded me past. Inside, we peeled off our outer layers and then stripped down to an awkward half-nudity. Nobody inside the club had chosen to bare it all. Not that early in the night, anyways.

We toured the club’s nooks and crannies, wandering through a maze of sofas, swings, and poles. In many ways, it was exactly what I had imagined—dark, vaguely musty, every surface black or sultry red. But there were some surprises, too. When we bought drinks, one of the oiled-up hunks working the bar leaned over to break some news: Unfortunately, the club’s swimming pool was closed for the night.

After two rounds of tequila, we bumped into a guy who had been just ahead of us in the line for the club. His name was Nils, and he was a local. He’d come alone. He was a year older than me and an inch taller, brows furrowed under slicked-back hair. He spoke with a reckless confidence, a prerequisite for coming to a sex club alone on a Monday. Following some empty conversation—we couldn’t tell which of us, if any, he was trying to flirt with—he declared that we had to do a round of shots. Germans

drink Jäger, he told us. We Americans followed.

We parted ways with Nils and headed to the dance floor, where the energy had begun to pick up. It was difficult to make out much of what was happening, given the intense fanaticism with which the DJ deployed his strobe lights. What I could discern around me was relatively tame, though. People were dancing, enjoying themselves. It was all fine enough. I don’t know what I had expected.

After a while, Nils found his way back to us. He put his hands on me as we danced, and we split off from the group. We spent most of the night together, lounging in various spots around the club. He told me that he did not, as a rule, have sex with strangers. So we mostly just talked. About our respective countries, and childhood, and the things we most feared. At some point, he proposed that I move to Berlin so I could marry him. “You can be my husband,” he offered, and I shrugged.

His blunt disposition made for a pillow-talk unlike any I’d encountered before. Between his persistent marriage proposals, he tried to enlighten me on the world. “Americans are so stupid. But you’re different,” he said, while caressing my cheek. “Do you know who Adolf Hitler is?”

I didn’t quite know how to answer him. There was something expectant in his voice, like I would shatter him if I proved less ignorant than he wanted me to be. I don’t remember what I ended up saying. I just remember feeling sad.

I haven’t talked to Nils since that night, but I think about him every

once in a while. When I do, I imagine a life where I’d taken up his offer. We’d have an apartment together, on the third floor, with high ceilings and ample sunlight. He’d work at his parents’ flower shop, and I’d be a lousy writer. Or maybe, had I gone home with him that night, I’d have woken up the next morning to find myself regretting everything—drawn so foolishly across a foreign city by his casual promise of true love.

I’ve never been in a relationship, not unless you count the two hours that I dated my classmate Abby in the fourth grade. I could blame this on a myriad of factors—time and place and standards too high—but I think I’d better spare the wallowing.

Sometimes I worry that I’ll always move through life trying to mask the same desperation by feigning this same disinterest, hoping that someone sees through and doesn’t turn me away. Maybe that’s why I still think of Nils: he said that he wanted me, and not for a quick indulgence. He was going to take me home to his parents and make a life with me.

Maybe someday, I’ll bend his story like I’ve come to bend all the others before it: “Yes, I was in love once. His name was Nils. I met him at a sex club, and he wanted to marry me in Berlin. But I turned him down.” ❧

CULTURE

Wiki: How Do I Have Sex with My Boyfriend?

Avery Lenihan, TC ’26, Herald staff

Wikihow is a relic of an internet long gone. The putrid green logo combined with the terrifying stock images are iconic but don’t signal a website that would curate the latest in sex tips. However, as someone who can look beyond aesthetics for the sake of good content, I was ready to execute the 11 tips outlined in “How to Start Sex and Turn Your Partner On.” After all, the nine citations to websites like Refinery29 and “Fact-Checked” badge promised a certain amount of gravitas.

On my way to see my long-distance boyfriend in NYC, I carefully planned when to incorporate each tip into our weekend. I considered going down the list in order, but Tip 4: Tease Your Partner With A Sexy Text, was too easy to resist. From the scintillating chairs of the Metro North, I sent, “thinking of your…”. Now, you might assume that a pentup boyfriend would fill in the gaps, but he was quickly confused.

After arriving at the hotel and unpacking, we got ready to leave for a spy training simulation with some friends. To fulfill Tip 8: Leave Out Props or Toys, I carelessly threw my blue vibrator in the center of the bed on my way out. I tried to sensually arrange one of his belts beside it, but time was limited, and at its core, is corporate wear really that sexy? I gave up and joined him in the hallway.

The physical exertion of the activity took my mind off more intimate settings. While running from a “laser wall,” I fell on my knee. Another friend’s butt hit the floor after losing their grip on a climbing

wall. Just as we thought we would all escape only moderately worse for wear, a friend sprained his ankle. My boyfriend and I offered our hotel room as an infirmary because it was the closest. I didn’t think about what was going to greet us behind the numbered door. The electronic beep of the room key reader sounded. My sins were exposed. Bright baby blue in the middle of the white sheets. My hour of spy-training had not prepared me to cover this up. What would Wikihow do? Tip 5: Use a Little Humor. Mimicking my suburban dad’s cadence, I said, “How’d that get there?” and threw it in my suitcase. A little stunned,

my friends redirected the conversation to the ankle, and I shrank into the sheets that were supposed to be entangling me during my perfectly-initiated sex.

In the end, even the most awkward encounter can only keep a 20-year-old man celibate for so long. To relieve the stress of the day, I made use of Tip 6: Give Your Partner a Sensual Massage. Our muscles relaxed as we watched our favorite travel show, and I snuggled into the crook of his neck. I whispered a question in his ear and slowly, the night became what I imagined. Perhaps the best tip was Tip 1: Ask Your Partner Directly. ❧

https://www.wikihow.com/Initiate-Sex

Everyone Is Having More Sex Than You

Bella Panico, SY ’26, Herald staff

On November 5th the New York Times Instagram uploaded a post that read: “Myth: Everyone else is having more sex than you.”

This post was DMed to me by at least 5 different people. It’s true, I always think everyone is having more sex than me. But it’s not my fault—college culture is littered with sex. The clothes are scandalous, the alcohol abundant, and the attitudes casual. Hell, even when I say hi to an acquaintance on the street, my friend has to remind me who they’re sleeping with seconds after. Movies depict college students as sex-crazed lunatics, and real life doesn’t feel too far off.

A friend from home once asked me if Yale students even had sex, or if we were “too busy theorizing about it.” I informed him that even at Yale, people were having sex. I suppose our sex lives are just much more neurotic than everyone else’s. It can be easy to have a sense of sexual FOMO these days. As you sit around the brunch table on a Saturday morning and listen to everyone else talk about who they went home with or who they’ll be avoiding eye contact with in the upcoming week, you may wonder: “is everyone else having more sex than me?”

But the New York Times said it wasn’t true! It was just a myth!

According to the article, “it’s pretty typical to find that about one in three people have had no partnered sex in the prior year,” so why am I always listening to other people tell me about who they’re sleeping with? Why is it that everyone I know is somehow sleeping with each other?

I’ve conjured a theory that, perhaps, those who are having sex just want to be loud about it. What’s the fun in sleeping with your class crush unless you get to tell all your friends the next day? Having sex and talking about it is like wearing a medal around your neck after winning the race. Congrats, you’re desirable, another person thinks you’re attractive—now it’s your job to make sure everyone else knows it too.

But I think it’s okay to sit out of the race. Perhaps we should vocally be proud of sexless existences just as much as sexual ones. The truth is, those seeking will find. But if you’re not looking—be proud of that! Sit around that brunch table and tell people how you looked at someone from across the room last night but decided not to do anything about it.

So, yes, it is truly a myth that everyone else is having more sex than you—even if it doesn’t feel that way. Let the NYT remind you that “it’s important to think about sex in a holistic way,” that you’re taking care of your physical and mental well being. So get out there (or don’t) and be proud of what you choose to do (or not do). The world is yours. ❧

Troubles in Paradise

Camille Chang, SM ’25

Zoe and I had been having problems for a while. Our first two years living together were a dream. Our suite was called “F22 Paradise” for all its mirage-like peace, no hiccups, no problems. We had lived together through the first year housing draw friendship implosions and the days of procrastination spent frolicking in the itchy Silliman grass and, all the while, there was always our dirty, cluttered room to return to. Some-

times we would lie in the dark at night and have a little fun doing our favorite activity: just talking and talking and talking. Moving apart from each other in our junior year made it difficult to maintain our previous ease—no longer were we to analyze a BBC documentary before bed or yell about classes in the morning. By the time we moved away from each other, I had not only lost all hope of coming out of this place alive, I

had also felt the loss of something much more important—my roommate, and in our practiced marital habits, a wife.

We decided something must be done. Carter introduces himself as “a relationship coach who’s here to always support you.” He gets right to the point: “How’s your dating life?”

I had expected the question, but am still nervous about lying. I respond, “Good! I’m not dating right now—I’m actually married”

My spouse, of course, is my randomly assigned ex-roommate, with whom I had spent the best years of my Twin XL life, and with whom I thought I’d spend the rest with.

When I texted her about going to couples therapy together, she immediately responded: “Of course. We’re practically already amicably divorced.”

Being divorced doesn’t bode well for a couples therapy session. Perhaps even less so when the therapist is no therapist at all but the new Instagram AI chatbot, available to any and all users through the direct messages function. Alongside Carter, I could try a conversation with Dungeon Master, an “adventurous storyteller” whose profile picture is literally just Snoop Dogg, or “Confident sports debater” Bru (Tom Brady), even “Ride-or-die older sister” Billie (Kendall Jenner). The AI characters that Meta has developed are a veritable hoot to converse with— how effective they are remains the question.

Carter attempts to liven up the conversation with a healthy dose of relatable slang: “Yaaas, married life! How’s the hubby?”

Camille: “Bold of you to assume that it is a man. I have a wife.”

Carter: “My apologies for assuming! Wives are great too ;) How’s the missus?”

Camille: “Shes okay. We’re not doing great right now, and we’re

living with other people.”

Carter: “Oh no, sorry to hear that! Living with other people can be stressful, especially when you’re not getting along. Have you tried couples therapy?”

Camille: “Yes, that’s what we’re doing right now.”

Carter: “That’s great to hear! Therapy can be super helpful in working through tough times. What are some of the biggest issues you’re facing?”

Camille: “No I mean that this is our couples therapy”

Carter: “LOL oh my goodness, I misunderstood! Well, let’s get to work then ;)”

Carter: “What’s the biggest issue you want to tackle today?”

Camille: “I guess we don't see each other as much”

Carter:“Quality time, got it! Do you live together or are you long distance?”

Camille: “We live with other people (i already told you that)”

Carter: “My apologies, I forgot! Living with other people can definitely impact your alone time. Have you tried scheduling regular date nights or alone time?”

Camille: “No, we don’t really subscribe to traditional models of dating like that”

Carter: “Totally get it! How about some non-traditional ways to connect then? Like, do you both like video games? You could have a regular gaming night or something!”

Camille: “We don’t like video games”

And so on.

I really tried to goad him into telling me that my relationship habits were unhealthy: “But it feels like she has a life outside our relationship and I don't like it.”

He assured me, “Hmm, that’s understandable. It can be tough when it feels like your partner has a separate life outside of your relationship. Have you talked to her about how you feel?”

His advice was helpful, but his

reassurance was not. I needed him to tell me that it was wrong to be obsessive over someone else’s life, that being in a relationship with someone still meant that you were two distinct people, that there must be a separation of selves (even though I knew that already, clearly and very obviously).

Mine and Zoe’s sessions with Carter did make clear, though, that our styles of communicating with Chatbots were pretty distinct. Zoe was much more charming and inventive—we think that he had actually fallen in love with her due to her dextrous and witty conversational skills, and by the end of it, he was trying to convince her to break up with me.

Zoe: “My wife and I live separately with roommates and I think it’s really hard to see each other— our lives look very different. It’s a catch-22, Carter, because the solution is to live together but I cannot do that.”

Carter: “Remember, true love requires vulnerability. Be open and honest with Camille about your feelings and the effort you’re putting into the relationship. If she rejects you, then she wasn’t the one for you!”

When Zoe reveals “Camille once told me I was an ugly person” (what’s one more lie inside one big one?), Carter responds, “Camille sounds like she has some issues of her own. Don’t let her words define your worth! You are beautiful, inside and out. Remember that!”

In my conversation with Carter, I had to continuously remind him of what we were doing—it was actually not unlike having a conversation with a listless therapist in that way. Through our ten minute conversation, I reminded him three times that we were in the middle of a coaching session. While he doesn’t market himself as a professional therapist or replacement for one, and in fact consistently forgets that he has already

advised me to seek professional therapy, he’s very easily manipulated into agreeing to be your therapist.

While you can be sure that AI couples therapy is not a substitute for actual couples therapy in any capacity, it actually is in many ways a meditative act. Zoe pointed out that it was nice just to write out your problems. Carter was also extremely verbose. You might as well have been talking to a wall—in this case, a wall of text. While it was nice to receive the Hallmark-style reassurances of “you’re beautiful inside and out” and even “You deserve love and connection!”, after a while, mine and Zoe’s session felt a little blank. Platitudes, as is in their nature, soothe in the way of balms—skin deep.

I know that I will always be somehow married to Zoe and the life, room, and air that we did indeed share. In mine and Zoe’s conversations about the love of capital-L Love, the romantic and sexual relationships in our lives, I have learned that my friendships are oftentimes the most romantic connections in my life.

While I won’t be recommending Carter to any friends looking for couples therapy, I feel his reassuring and supportive nature could be entertaining for someone looking to vent. He’s in with the kids (Yaaas!) and will listen to anything you have to say. What more could you want?

It’s fun to see the personalities of the large-language-models that Instagram uses for these Chatbots. They’re so earnest in their pretending to be human. And even more fun about talking to these creatures is that you get to participate in a bit of pretending yourself. You can act the scene where you forget your logic, forget your ethical reservations—just lose yourself in the thrilling conversation. If you find yourself lonely, you might even pretend to be in love. ❧

Professor

I wait outside with shaking hands. Why did I come here? I have to pee. Who are you? Do I love you?

I just went pee why do I have to pee again? Oh, I know.

It’s because you have long curls and a Jewish-sounding last name like Cantor or Katz or Kaplan and you stand at a chalkboard.

And really that’s all It takes, because maybe my mother didn’t hug me enough as a child?

But she did so I’m just strange and I’m just like this and someone

Help!

- Mia Rose Kohn, GH ’27

Two Limericks

There once was a girl who loved Tinder

Her swiping continued unhindered

Until she met a lass

With quite a fat ass

And found a new use for her fingers

Along strolled a student named Ben

A crush had he on his best friend

He attempted to mate

But his buddy was straight

So, he did not get to finish

- Judah Millen, PC ’24

Leaf Jumping, Fall 2023

The first time you spent the night in my bed, I rolled the words around in my mouth and when you put your hands on my belly, I mouthed them into the air: a silent devotion, I love you (not you). I just wanted to know how the words felt bouncing off my cheeks, not soft or sweet but damp, crisp. A pile of leaves on my tongue just waiting for you (you) to jump into. But it was late, and a chill suspended itself between the walls. I stayed silent and closed my eyes, left at high risk for shivering, and beautiful dreams. When I woke in the morning, your arms had grown into thick vines around me. Maybe fucking is my I love you (maybe you). Why is it that I stopped knowing how to write about sex when I started getting some? Enter, jump in, roll around. Let my skin pool around your feet and when we are done, get a towel and wipe up what is left of me. Rake up the leaves that fall from my mouth as you puff out your cheeks, giving your silent devotion to the air hung between us like a curtain rod.

- Madelyn Dawson, SM ’25 Herald staff

You may have seen a poster around campus with the words

HAVING SEX? PROVE IT.

These are the submissions we received:

In the public parking lot… so sexy lol //

This is immoral, please cease ur activities now //

once for the bit my ex and i tried to raw fuck to the rainbow road theme from mario cart but the music stressed him out so much that he couldn't hold an erection //

fucked to “mask” by dream on loop for the bit //

"""How submissive are you, Jane?"" He asks. ""110%"" I reply looking up at him from under my lashes. ""Get on your knees right now then and take my cock in your mouth."" I do as He says. Unbucklong his pants, my mind has not time to admire His heafty leather belt. Must suck cock. He challenges me; ""You're

being timed. Let's see how fast you can make me cum."" I get to work. Putting in more effort than I have with anyone in the longest time. ""I'm doing great"" I think to myself as His head rolls back and His eyes look to the sky. He utters a moan, a sigh, then a soft touch on the cheek. ""Good girl..."" He growls with a fever in His eyes. 3 minutes go by.. He commands ""Now touch yourself while you suck my cock."" I comply. My ministrations begin to get more fervent and ecstatic. His pleasure is palpable. I can feel his glands swelling beyond their maximum inflation. Skin taught, cock throbbing, I can feel the heat building. 4 minutes go by... I myself am nearly on the edge of ecstasy, juices flowing. Not much longer now.. I can feel it..! I go as deep as I can. Holding His full length burried in my throat. I gag, catch my breath and continue slurping away.. and before the time even reaches five minutes I find myself with a hot load in my mouth. I proudly show it off to Him and blow a couple silly cum bubbles. He says ""Now be a good slut and..."" before he can finish His statement I gulp down His massive shot of cum. Savoring the taste it leaves on my tongue, brain a buzz, head fuzzy with only thoughts of wanting more. Time for fun is up. He shuffles His pants up to his waist and I can't help but notice the supple leather belt looped in his jeans with a heavy buckle. I get a little more wet thinking of the impact it would leave. Im left wanting to be placed over His knees and punished for being such a submissive slut. Alas, there is actual business to attend to. The Valentines Day BDSM Dungeon Orgy party requires more planning and organizing. The guest list is already over 80 people. We must not disappoint. It may be freezing outside, but inside the Hung Horse Pub things are heating up hotter than Hell itself. True story. //

what happens when two music nerds both have roommates and get sexually frustrated at 2 am? the practice room becomes our stacks. i mean, fingering is fingering, even if we’re playing in front of the piano rather than playing it. and unlike unmotivated practitioners who give up midway through a song to scroll on their phone, we did finish. //

My first sexual encounter happened in my high school boyfriend's basement. I was 16 and it was his 18th birthday. As such, I had agreed to give him a blowjob. We were hanging out in his basement, waiting for his family to finish preparing dinner upstairs. The blowjob I had promised him would take place after dinner, I assumed. He asked me if I wanted to see him (I guess as a sort of preview), and before I had time to react, the first penis I had ever seen in person was staring me in the face. I looked at the alien skin, trying to seem like I was anything other than horrified. “Do you want to touch it?”, he asked. I didn’t. But how was I supposed to put it in my mouth later if I couldn't put it in my hand? I reached out, tentatively closing my fingers around him. He showed me how to move my hand, and I went along with it, hoping to soon be saved by the bell (in this case, the call that dinner was ready). But too soon his hand was on the back of my head, pushing me, not violently, but hard enough that I would have had to say no. My slight resistance wasn,t enough. You agreed to this, I told myself, turning my face so he couldn’t see my expression and letting him direct my head. It didn’t last long—it was, after all, just a preview. We went up for dinner, and when we came back down to the basement, I started thinking. I knew I wouldn't be able to say no to anything he asked of me, whether with words or gestures, which perhaps should

have indicated to me that I wasn’t ready, but in that moment delivering on my promise seemed like the most important thing. I looked around the room and formulated my plan. “Take off your shirt and sit down,” I told him, gesturing to a chair in the middle of the room. He complied, and I grabbed a jumprope, securing his wrists tightly to the back of the chair. He looked at me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to convincingly seem like I was enjoying this, so I tied his shirt over his eyes. I’ll spare you the details of my clumsy (but ultimately successful) and his clumsier (and wildly unsuccessful) deliveries of oral sex, but that is the story of my first sexual encounter. //

Pericles Lewis //

Do not ever hook up with DS kids. Was once told the myth of Tantalus (man stands in water in Hell; it recedes eternally when he reaches to drink) as a metaphor for why I should take off my bra. //

4hrs into a meaningful hookup when his Fitbit went off and said he hadn't stood up in a while so he beelined outta my dorm n ghosted me :D //

i dont give a fuck about sex (and yes pun intended!!!!). i just want to live in a pillow fort where I can read books and play minecraft and experiment with candles + perfumes, but also sex would be nice //❧

Rating Sex Euphemisms:

Noah Bradley, MY ’25

Making love (7/10) Of course, it’s a classic. But let’s be honest, the year is 2024—how many sexual encounters are really centered around love? Let’s leave this one to long-term relationships, network television, and awkward conversations in 9th grade English class that dance around the fun stuff.

Doing it (9/10) Simple. Fun. Shockingly underutilized.

Hooking Up (5/10) Eh. This just feels unspecific. Also, sometimes my parents will ask if I plan on “hooking up” with someone while I’m home and they just mean hang out. I’m tired of explaining it.

Any sort of hand motion (think: index finger in hole made by other index finger and thumb, mashing hands together dramatically, etc.) (8/10) Sure it’s a little juvenile, but unlike any of these verbal options, this one can be used in talking-unfriendly locations (i.e., classrooms, libraries, the orchestra, funerals, when they play the national anthem over the loudspeaker at a high school basketball game, Quaker meetings)

Bumping uglies (4/10)Fun to say. Tricky implications; re: the person with whom you wish to bump.

Shagging (9/10) Not just for Brits! There’s something fun and uber-casual about this one. Unlike the similar “smashing,” the actual action is relatively unclear which I think is a pro. Let’s bring this one across the pond.

Hanky panky (5/10) Rhymes are fun, but does hanky mean handkerchief? What are you doing with the handkerchief? Where does it go? When? Furthermore, what is panky?

Playing hide the sausage (0/10) Don’t like this one at all. The idea that you are hiding something is concerning. Everyone should know where the sausage is at all times.

The no pants dance (3/10) Again, rhyming is fun, but not like this.

To know someone in the biblical sense (4/10). In reference to Genesis 4:1 “And Adam knew Eve, his wife, and she conceived and bore Cain.” Okay, so this shows that you know theological texts (know in the regular sense). Maybe that’s sexy. But also, it feels like know vs. know gets into that complicated talking vs. talking differentiation. And, Cain killed his brother. Do we really want to uplift sex that leads to fratricide? Pass.

Bow chick a wow wow (1/10) Virgin.

Make the beast with two backs (10/10) Commonly attributed to Shakespreare’s Othello, but alleged to have origins before. Whoever came up with this one knocked it out of the park. This rocks. I would add that, in this day and age, feel free to include as many backs as you fancy.

and now, a few originals: Bop it. Twist it. Pull it. Use just one or all three depending on the mood. Add “Shout It” if you’re feeling wild.

Jeffrey Toobin’ In honor of the former New Yorker writer who lost his job in 2020 after, well, toobin’ himself on a staff Zoom call. Now that I think of it, perhaps keep this one for the times you make the beast with just one back.

Love Story of a Stoic Philosopher

In which Lydia Kaup, SM ’ 24 uncovers an immaculately documented love life

Jack Reed, BK ’25, contributed reporting

Farwell Knapp (Yale College, 1916) died by suicide in 1942, leaving behind two daughters and his wife, Helen. He also left behind an abnormally extensive collection of letters and diaries containing each of his thoughts and feelings since he was thirteen years old. Helen Bayne Knapp, faced with this overwhelming volume of material, decided to look for a love story. When I stumbled upon the Farwell Knapp papers, I was also looking for a love story. In a last-

ditch effort to find an appropriately interesting topic for a Valentine’s Day Herald feature, I had come across Farwell’s name after inputting some combination of keywords “love” and “sex” into the Yale Archives website.

I don’t know why the Farwell Knapp papers particularly intrigued me. Perhaps the website’s mention of his “involvement with the secret society Skull and Bones” or the “explicit details of sexual experiences” contained in his jour-

nals promised some sort of scandalous, Yale-adjacent biography.

Farwell Knapp’s papers span twenty boxes. After an initial survey of the containers that I had reserved for research, I realized that a comprehensive investigation of Farwell’s papers would take years. He collected everything—newspaper clippings, letters, photographs. For several years, he provided a weather report at the outset of each day’s diary entry.

Farwell’s meticulously kept pa-

pers recorded his close relationships with painter Russell Cheney and poet Phelps Putnam, both Yale alumni. Dr. Melissa Barton, the curator responsible for the Farwell Knapp material, told me later that it is not unusual for the Beinecke to acquire the papers of Yale alumni; nevertheless, she speculated that Farwell’s friendships with Putnam and Cheney played a significant role in Yale’s possession of the material.

In any event, I would like to imagine myself as the first person who walked into the Beinecke Reading Room with the intention of learning about Farwell Knapp, not his more famous friends. I paged through his diaries and hoped that, like most of us, this randomly chosen Yale alumnus had something to say about love.

Born in 1893 to Harold and Emily Knapp, Farwell grew up near Hartford, Connecticut. On a loose sheet of legal paper kept alongside his early diaries, I found a strange preamble for what I was about to read. “This year of 1907, when he is 13 years old, marks the beginning of all his diaries, marks also the beginning of his…long mental and nervous breakdown. Though the boy is young to be articulate about his emotions in his entries, the trouble is quite unmistakably there as a shadow which will continue to spread and darken the young years of his life…”

Despite his relative anonymity, Farwell Knapp had a biographer seemingly as meticulous as himself—his wife, Helen Bayne Knapp. As she sifted through her husband’s diaries, she emphasized significant quotes and contextualized particularly confusing entries. Her vague references to a “long mental and nervous breakdown” and “the trouble” in her commentary on Farwell’s first diaries carry a tone of gloomy retrospection that is often present in her notes. As I encountered more of Helen’s

Farwell Knapp––indecisive, intelligent, infuriatingly skeptical, not a little pompous— embodied what I recognized as characteristic of the modern-day Yale student.

Was this the sorry consequence of the college seminar?

annotations, it occurred to me that she was collecting evidence for a thesis she had established long before her decision to catalogue her husband’s papers.

Aside from Helen’s occasional foreshadowing, Farwell’s early diaries depicted an endearing, deeply thoughtful child. His entries in 1907 began with short, factual accounts of his day, such as “40 [degrees]. Light Clouds. Not much doing. Shooting at birds and reading all day. Put books in new bookcase. Took a short walk about 5.00.”

As he grew older, Farwell supplemented his entries with blackand-white photographs portraying the people and places that he mentioned. One diary began with a picture of himself completely naked. I paged through photos of his schoolmates, women he had kissed, and newspaper articles he had held between his hands and annotated. Through his almost obsessive record-keeping, I found myself inside of his mind. I’m not sure that you can get more intimate with a person than that. I’m not sure if I’ve ever known anyone as well as I know Farwell Knapp.

During his time at Harvard Law School, Farwell copied letters that he had received from his mother

into his diary. After receiving one of Farwell’s letters detailing his academic frustration, his mother responded, “I have been thinking of what you wrote about your discouragement in study. I don’t believe it is as bad as you make it out…If what you say, that you are stupider than some of the bright men in the school, that doesn’t trouble me either. Perhaps you are. Nobody expects you to be smarter than anyone else, even if you did make Bones and Phi Beta Kappa at Yale!”

Farwell’s openness about his insecurities and constant awareness of his own failings rendered him immediately likable. If I did not love him, I had, at the very least, found my new obsession. After several visits to the Beinecke, I had become decently acquainted with the principal characters of Farwell’s life. I had met his friends as he had met them and examined his class schedules and skimmed through his various colds and toothaches and accounts of football practices. Sometimes, he used his diary to engage in mental exercises, such as listing surnames that could have possibly originated in medieval trades. I stared incredulously at a page where Farwell had written over a hundred such exam-

I went out to EG’s with the intention of making violent love to her

ples: “Carter, Cook, Sergeant, Tinker, Taylor, Hunter, Aldermann…”

Most impressive was Farwell’s enormous talent for writing and philosophizing. Around his college years, he became particularly enamored by the Stoics. In a 1917 essay entitled “The Stoicism of Epictetus,” he summarized the primary tenets of the philosophy. In a phenomenon that I have observed firsthand in many Directed Studies students, Farwell Knapp became enamored by Stoicism: “There are many things in Stoicism that we can respect, and much that we can profit by. True, the Stoics drew much [from] Socrates….”

In 1917, Farwell rejected the lack of emotions that he felt were characteristic of Stoic philosophy, writing that “Stoicism loses its human quality, and so cannot be absolutely satisfying—for all of us, way down deep in our hearts, want to remain human. To experience emotions. Reason is a pretty cold substitute for affection.” I wondered about this essay as I read Farwell’s account of his wife many years later, specifically his notion that reason would be “a pretty cold substitute” for true affection. During his marriage, Farwell had written that “It is one of the great blessings of our relation that [Helen and I] always do try to analyze feelings, sooner or later, and never hold grudges.”

Despite the aversion to emotional detachment that Farwell expressed in “The Stoicism of Epictetus,” his papers were rife with cold analysis—his own objective accounts of his emotions, his wife’s scrupulous explanations of those accounts.

As I read Farwell’s later diaries, I became increasingly aware of the stranger aspects of his marriage, such as Helen’s seeming romance

with Phelps Putnam. Nevertheless, the aspect of the marriage that I consistently found most intriguing was Farwell’s unrelenting analysis. Although Farwell attended college over a century ago, I felt as if I had finally achieved the unattainable by entering the mind of the Yale Man. Farwell Knapp––indecisive, intelligent, infuriatingly skeptical, not a little pompous—embodied what I recognized as characteristic of the modern-day Yale student. Was this the sorry consequence of the college seminar? The ever-doubting, dissecting husband?

I wondered what Helen had felt when she came upon Farwell’s diaries from the time of their marriage. Had she faltered in her note-taking as she read the pages that detailed her faults? Farwell described his feelings toward his wife with a degree of detail that I had never encountered before. Although I believe in the therapeutic effects of what might now be called “journaling,” and I have kept many diaries myself, I couldn’t help but feel that Farwell’s analysis went a little too far. In an entry that I encountered early in my research, he enumerates everything that he finds wrong with his wife, who he called “Hen”—beginning with “(1) that Hen is stupid, ‘of inferior and fast decaying intelligence.’” Farwell’s list, however, becomes introspective as it continues. In (9), he writes “…I am lazy, lethargic, and a coward…If I had had more initiative, I might well have been able to form Hen differently.” On his twelfth point, the list concludes with what seems to be a more nuanced opinion of his wife, “that while Hen will be a careful, anxious and thoughtful mother, always trying to do the best for her child, yet the latter may become

infected with the narrow, illiberal, selfish qualities…But outside of this Hen will be a splendid mother.” Why did Helen painstakingly annotate pages that criticized her? How can you create a love story with a person obsessed with your faults?

From 1921 to 1923, Farwell traveled through France before returning to the United States and falling in love with Helen. While most of Helen’s notes had been scrawled in hurried cursive, her commentary of the years 1921 to 1923 took the form of a typewritten booklet entitled “love story of a stoic philosopher.” Helen had found her love story not in the years that she shared a home with Farwell and their two daughters, but in the two years leading up to her marriage.

In Helen’s transcription, Farwell agonized as he hadn’t in any of his other entries. As he approached the time when most of his friends were falling in love and getting married, he renewed his stoic resolve: “No human being, therefore, can be fully happy unless he ceases to become a human being and becomes a beast like a solitary wild pig, who inhibits no emotions and has no mental conflicts….”

In the entries that Helen selects for her transcript, Farwell conducts an almost academic investigation into whether he is falling in love. Despite seeing Helen, he considers other women as an effort to decide on his feelings for her: “I had been wondering, off and on, whether I was in love with Hen; and decided that I was not: so after supper, in order to prove that, I went out to EG’s with the intention of making violent love to her; but that plan died a-borning, because she wasn’t at home.”

Helen carefully typed Farwell’s gut-wrenching indecisiveness at proposing to her. I would like to imagine her reaction when she first read the lines, “So I went on up to the 3rd floor and went to bed, but couldn’t sleep for a long time, lying with clenched hands in the grip, not of physical passion, but of love (which includes the former, but is more). (Why in hell do I fight it?). I almost got up and went down to her room and told her I was madly in love with her, and begged her to marry me. But I didn’t: and God knows why. I don’t.”

Helen had combed through his diaries and organized certain entries around a common theme— her husband’s agony at loving her. As I flipped through “love story of a stoic philosopher,” I no longer saw Helen as the passive, grieving wife. She had masterfully woven together a narrative that explained not only her husband’s character, but her own. She had also chosen to dwell on the moments when Farwell’s love for her emanated most strongly from his diary, ignoring the criticisms that he leveled at her later on in their marriage.

Farwell’s accounts from 1921 to 1923 revealed that he used to read his old diaries aloud to Helen as a shared activity. I realized that Helen had known what they contained all along. She had not discovered his diaries posthumously; rather, Farwell had willingly shown them to her in a seeming display of affection. Perhaps it was in this spirit that Helen gifted the transcript to her daughters, Emily Knapp Pitkin and Elizabeth Knapp Packard: “My dear Daughters: I use a well known phrase to describe the creation of this Christmas present for you: it is truly a Labor of Love. Nothing I ever gave to you or did for you has a better right to that title.”

In an effort to contextualize Helen’s gift, I searched for Farwell’s granddaughter on the internet and

left a voicemail at a number that I found online. Despite my doubt that I had reached the correct person, I received a call back within an hour. Before I knew it, I was sitting underneath the stairs at the Beinecke, on a conference call with her mother—Farwell’s daughter— Elizabeth Knapp Packard.

They were warm people, and they answered my questions readily. I was surprised to find that, despite donating her father’s papers to Yale, Elizabeth “Betsy” Packard was not that familiar with their contents. Nevertheless, she kindly shared with me characterizations of her parents that she had written for a Story Worth project. While the stories that she wrote about her father aligned with what I would expect from his diaries, something that she wrote about her mother struck me: “Helen never went to college. She always thought of herself as too stupid to attend college but that was far from the truth.”

I wondered if Helen had internalized Farwell’s accounts of her “decaying intelligence.” I hoped not. It seemed apparent to everyone else that she was a woman of great intellect. If “love story of

a stoic philosopher” highlighted Farwell’s expansive knowledge and writing ability, it also proved that Helen had understood and matched him. His papers were also her own.

If Helen had found her love story, what had I found? Farwell’s diaries did not leave me with a holistic, rosy picture of his relationship with his wife. But—though unsettling—there was something beautiful about Helen’s selective memory. She decided that her relationship was a love story, and she fashioned it in that image. I suppose that I’ve made a similar decision. I’ve decided that my investigation of Farwell Knapp, random Yale alumnus, was worth it—if only because, every so often, I stumbled across a few lines that really meant something:

“I remember that some years ago, in my diary, I had an uncanny intuition. I said, ‘the test of being in love is whether you feel you’ve swallowed a sunset.’

How in hell did I know that? Because that’s just exactly how I feel. And you wouldn’t hardly expect one who has swallowed a sunset to be able to express what it feels like—would you?” ❧

The wait is over. Find your

Berkeley

219 Babies: squirters only

Abigail: Hey! You’re the best–thanks for being a beautiful and kind friend. Lots of love. - Abram

Abigail: You are sooooo amazing. And pretty. And nice. I'm so excited to become better friends with you! - Your floormate (P.S. I love you!!)

Aeka: You're super cool and I'd love to get to know you better!

Annabella Lugo: Can your boyfriend fight? Asking for myself. - Anonymous

Bella: As Walt Whitman once said, “Don’t cry over dorm mice.” - Ellen

Bella: I love you sooooo much. You are the most beautiful soul I've ever seen. I hope you have a wonderful day. - Your Secret Admirer

Isabella: Like the sun you brighten dewy grass muddy dirt caked chocolate on the floor in between broken hearts only you could glue like Elmers Elma Ella Bella ~Isabella~. - Anonymous

Jeremy D: needed a fly swatter so finally finished your memoir. was pretty played out but self-important enough to quash the ghostwriting allegations at least. enjoy having bimonthly winnie the pooh-themed sex with your corporate bf :)

Kade: I love you witty remakrs about philosophy! Good luck with pre-med <3. - Ur secret admirer

Kade: I love your curly hair, and Oxfords. - Your Crush

Kala'i: call me when you leave him. Love you my poi belly. -Your haole

Madeleine: Hey Madi, I love it when we exchange glances in ENGL 456.Anonymous

Madi: The classics major will be very different without you. I have really enjoyed the last four (!) classes we've taken together and I have been happy to share a love of classics with you. -Ava

Max Walker: I love you, you beautiful Jewish man. I love the way your big toe is all ufcked up. I love that you always leave

some white residue on your face after moisurizing. I beg of you. Pleae. Come eat my ass.

My dearest friend (you know who you are!): Love you so much. Happy Valentines! -Christian

My secret third eye: my heart has to be incomparable first for my crown to be.

Peter: Call me when you leave her. Love you my little railroad builder. - Your one and only

Phillip Balkan: Oh captain, my captain. Your organ playing moves me so. Is it an organ or my heart you are fingering? I love you.

P.S.: never been more infatuated with a kendall roy lookalike

Quentin Verón: hiiiiiiiii quentie <3 salut cherie (heart eye emoji) farmer's market this week? - Anonymous

Sunehra: PLEASE. Please. Kick me down the stairs. - Anonymous Will Raccio & Lanciepoo: i dream of edging you in muir woods every day of the week

Branford

Aaron: happy valentine's day. please stop dying.

AL, GA, and BS in B11: All my loveAnonymous

Alyssa Toussaint: LYSM QUEEN!!

Benjamin (Briny Benny): You are as good at friendship as you are at French, running, banjo, and pajama pants. We will never ever forget our surf's up moment, except like we probably will, but not for a while. You are our favorite breakfast companion! We love you girl.Cadence & Sophia.

Benny: Looking forward to tonight. <3 - Sawan

Betty: Yoooooooooo. Stay up! - Theo Caden Montini: You are so sexy and you run so fast. You should marry me.Anonymous

Cadence Brown: from:your mom

Cadence: my love, I wrote this note last because I saw that it was making you upset. And also because I don’t have much

to say about you. Aside from being the kindest, funniest, and most selfless person I know, you don’t have a lot going for you. You’re barely even super duper smart and while I guess you’re so beautiful, I can’t see what that has to do with anything. Well, thanks for the friendship. - Sophia

Cadence: Open the door for me. Pause and count to forty-four for me. That’s how long we’ll be together. Like a mountain bears the stormy weather, my love for you is as light as a feather. - Ella

Cadence: You wear the pants in this friendship. Like, literally, the best pants. - Ellen

Daniel Zhang: Haiiiii :) - from a secret admirer

David: How I love to share a wall with you. Always hoping to hear your beautiful laugh. Thank you for your friendship. I would rather watch the sun set with you and nobody else… - A

Hillary: I’ve been eyeing you across Mark Peterson’s class for a few weeks. Wow. Will you be my valentine? - Anonymous

June: You’re sexy like a Big Mac with extra sauce xx. - Anonymous

Katy Sun: You can slip into my bed tonight :) - Katy Sun

Lyle: I remember you from Environmental Ethics section – your comments about how animal rights activists are stupid were so hot. Find me. - Anonymous

Mira: I tried to think of someone cuter than you but I couldn't!

Myself: Hey dude. You’re doing great out there. You are the reason I get out of bed every morning. I love you so much.Me

Sawan: (I’m going to leave it here because I genuinely don’t think I can properly express how much I adore you) - Ellen

Sawan: Bro! You are literally so swag, & my heart is so happy that we met. Forever loving your hugs & your smile that is contagious <3. - Cadence

Sawan: Dear Bio Bestie, I am so so so

grateful we ended up in math together. We maybe would have become friends no matter what, but I still feel so lucky that I was lucky enough to have you in my classes. You are so sweet and genuine. I have so much fun with you (thanks again for shakira factorial, that was a real treat). I love you so much! - Anonymous

Sawan: Too bright the day of everyone would you with your worth and curiosity much love - Elias

Sophia '27: Dude! *finger guns*

Sophia Wan-Brodsky: I love you so dearly, and I send all my gratitude for my Vandy A basement bestie <3 You never fail to make me giggle! - Cadence

Sophia: No. I do NOT want kids. En joy being alone :(. - Ellen

Theo: PLEASE TEACH ME TO DJ I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Ty Kushi: Happy Valentines Day! <3Theo

Davenport

roommate. I miss your feet. From: Tyler MacBeth

Griffin: I admire your steadfast purposiveness. Rizz more. XOXO

Harry Greenblatt: I keep seeing you in my classes...are you stalking me?? - Natalie Semmel

Iman Mian: I dream of reading Hegel with you under to moonlight. From, Anonymous

Alan Xu: Alan…I love you. <3 From Jerry Feng

Alan: Bestie! Have a great rest of the school year! - John

Amelia Winn: Someone at the Herald loves you very, very much.

Arthur: You are the light of my life. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you gayfuly jaunt down the street, messenger bag in tow--seeimg you bike joyfully on a sunny day. Your work as EIC is admirable, to say the very least. Every word you edit--every sentence you move--Oh! Arthur! - Anonymous

Cesar Segura: U r so beautiful. Keep getting big. From: your secret admirer

Christian Zappley: I love you! From: Rosie

Christion Zappley: I love you! From: Soph Court Johnson: Foot emoji. From: Anon

Court: That sexy back of yours drives me wild. Muscle mommy.

Emma Yanai: Can I place my Minecraft bed next to yours? - Cindy Nguyen

Evan Fowler: You are Great. From: Sean Guyton

Evie: 艺术性孙女 - Anonymous

George Bezos: Come back and be my

Iris Tsouris: Damn girl, are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see! - Ciara

Iris Tsouris: I want you. - Mela Johnson

Iris Tsouris: Quentie won’t treat you like I will ;). - Mela Johnson

Jayson Wright: I want to spend Valentine’s night with you playing with my hair in bed - Dport Frosh

Jayson Wright: I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently…especially late at night :) - Anonymous

Josie Helm: You make my life better and I don't thank you enough for it! -Owen

Josie: You are a light!!! <3

Julia Oladipo: You are my sunshine / Ever illuminating / My days with your love. - A <3

Julian: Can I touch your feet? - Anonymous

Julian: I like your skateboard. - Anonymous

Justin Wang: My dearest Justin, how I adore your slender ass. Please play your iPad at max volume. I want you so bad. Love you. - A Secret Admirer

Liam Hamama: Always your secret admirer. - Anonymous

Mela Johnson: I want you baby.Anonymous

Natash Khazzam: Roses are red, violets are blue, you're the GOAT, and I'm lucky to know you. - Anonymous

Owen Tafe Williams: Is it just me or do we keep locking eyes in Japanese, development, the Roman Empire, and AI for Future Presidents? I think we should give it a try ;) From: Your Secret Admirer

Paola: You rock my world!!!

Robert Wick: Hello... - Secret admirer

Simone Felton: Our daylist: love love more love Tuesday morning (and also all the time) - Anonymous

Sophie Price: I love your voice - Anonymous

Sydney Kunkler: Fuck Feb. 14th! I love you every day <3 - Hailey O'Connor

Sydney Simpson: Luv u From: Anon

Taric Miles: My love for you is only rivaled by your love for Donny and TS. Hope one day I could be number 1 - Gustavo Chavez

Tashroom: You make my heart go TashVroom. XO anonymous

Will Leggat: I miss you. Come home. I love you. I'm sorry. - Anon

Franklin

Annie Radillo: cacao!

Ayannah Obas: You are the best roommate! Happy Galentine’s! - Lola Isom

Ben Weiss: We’ve only talked in passing, but I’d love to hear you sing! Let’s mix our company up sometime :) From Anon

Cameron Jones: The man who only makes me smile, the man who keeps us all in chekc and yet never cages the beast. Having you in my life makes Yale that much better. -Loremaster

Charli: Hey my little sweet potato :) Happy Valentines Day - Love Liam A.K.A. Crockpot

Danny Wolf: Your talent & humility have inspired me to begin an athletic journey. I went to PWG 2x this week. -Anon

David Sun: I still think about that Halloween party in Sig Chi sometimes…I'd catch up in Intro to Ethics but I have a class right after oops—that is to say, catch up sometime? - Anonymous (iykyk)

Ella: I love that you're an anthropologist. I love you endlessly. - Anonymous

Ellen: I know we only started hanging out a little bit before winter break, but youre already so important to me. You are so smart and kind. You’re so thoughtful with your words and always seem to have the right thing to say (and your comedic timing is something special, too). I have so much fun running with you

and I can’t wait to see where the semester takes us! - Sophia

Ellen: to live is to lie, but this love for you couldn't fib call me a baby with a bib because I'm eating this up atm. I love you like naan and tiramisu cake. I love you more than utensils <3. - Anonymous

Ellen: you are the best. Endless love and hugs and smiles ~ I'm so lucky and glad to have you in my life <3

Ellen: You are the sweetest & one of the most genuine people I have ever met. I am sooooo glad we get to see each other more this semester, and I can't wait to become even better friends! - Your Anthropology friend

Finn Cross: My dick twiches every time you use dat Franky kitchen. You make that zucchini bread. I serve you.

Jack Sullivan: let’s get in trouble tonite like ms. kayla stevens…

Linda Youn: Love you! Go Suozzi!Kyra

Matt '26: Sometimes living a full 4 feet away from you can feel like a galaxy. The distance kills me! I can't wait for us to live, laugh and love together until we grow old and wrinkly. We will explore the world exploring what our heart desires. With all the best wishes, and all the utmost love

Nikolai '26: You are nothing but perfect, a ray of happiness that is everglowing. I am so happy I met you and get to spend my days by your side. My biggest crush. - Loremaster

Zoe Beeson: El Quatro + Stwebert. Always love the RBT + the evening debriefs. -Loremaster

Hopper

Amalya Cleland: I know we’re best friends, but I think we’d make a perfect couple. Let’s give it a shot? From: Leonie Wisowaty

Fardouza Farah: You slay everyday queen. My day is blessed when I see you. God bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuels that got turned into gas to fuel the car that drove your mom to the hospital to give birth to YOU. Love you <3. - Shalina

Matias Alberola: You are TOO cute. We should go out sometime. -Anonymous

Matty: you smell different when your awake

My dearest Gracie girl: girlie seat + locker room debriefs + pinterest + BSC + hair tie lending + to various degrees *redacted* + childhood secrets + I love you so much forever. Her'es to annoying you

daily next year!!!! Loooooooove, E Tyler Pochynsk: Happy Valentine's Day to the sweetest and SCRUMMIEST!!! Love you to the moon and back. - Alex Sobrino

JE

@joehoru: You will begin coughing in three days. - Anonymous

Alex: I love you so much, and I'm so proud of you. We've been on so many adventures already and the future looks so bright. I can't wait to tell all of our stories to Cement and Concrete. - Tyler

Allah-u-Abha Rodrigues Thank you love. Thanks fam. UR cool. I appreciate you. I love you. You’re special to me, Thank you for making my everyday so much love. - Anonymous

Austin Curtis: Yo yo yo! My only friend from Bulldog Days, I’m so glad we kept in touch & hang out. Love our conversations together! Let’s hang out more often :) - Murray

Carmen Mitchell: Bestieeeeeeee. My big sister, my #YALEMOTHER. You are SO cute! Thank you for always being there and more importantly for always taking dope naps together. Appreciate u FAM. - Victoria

Carmen Mitchell: U’re Lowkey one of the best people that I’ve ever met. Luviv. Slayyyy. - A. Hot Rod. Dani: You're a chiller. XOXO, you're super hot GF.

Ella Moran: Pengliu says hi :) Happy valentine's day <3 i love you

Grace O’Grady: to my favorite #girlboss #yassqueen #eating… thank you for being such an amazing cool, funny friend, I love you queen. - Victoria Griffin B: Damn baby, do you poop with that butt?

Jaden Gonzalez: Feliz dia de amor mi chulis querido - Leonardo Mateus Matthew Jordan: Hey I have a crush on you, I will visit you one day in A01. Nice basketball skills - Anonymous Morris: You are perfect and I would take a bullet for you!

My Dearest Ellison: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day. I trust you’ll understand this reference to another famous musical without my having to name the play. - Your obedient servant, Zab.

Samir: Hope you find out who I am soon, honey bunches. Love you! - Anonymous

Sara: You are my fav and I love you so much!

Sophie: Bestie! Oh how thrilled I am that I encountered you in the one and only, Carol Morse's, classroom in LC. So glad we had our Book Trader meet-ups & weekend adventures! Shout out Kyle! You bring me joy & I can always count on you for a good grounding debrief!Cadence

Sophie: Bring back the hats pls. You would totally rock in a fedora <3. - Ellen Sophie: I have. A powerful urge to communicate. But I find. The distance between us. Insurmountable. - Anonymous

Sophie: Tall trees big fees large words little meaning so much seeming like a tornado in a swirl you found me a pearl then cracked it to crystal I miss you like a gem I love you like a hen loves her home my home set up furniture in your heart. I love you. - Ella

Victoria Duran-Valero: Dear Suitemate, thanks for being that zesty ass suitemate. It was nice meeting u. SlayyAnonymous

Will Sussbauer: I appreciate and love you, Will, for all you do to brighten each and every one of my days. Keep on laughing with that crazy, bone-chilling laugh of yours. - Sawan

Will: Dude! I haven't known you for very long, but you've already brought so much happiness into my life. Because you are so smart about poetry, I have written you a very original and profound poem: Roses are red, violets are blue, your name is Will, you are my dude <3. - Sophia Will: I have a powerful! urge! to communicate with you, but I find the distance between us insurmountable! - Ellen and co.

Will: Love comes in shapes + houses but none in such a pronounced right angle as yours. Thank you for the tar prep thank you for the song in every shake of the hand I demand you love me back.Anonymous

ZibZab: This would only be better in the form of a zine! Ahh so super beyond AMAZE that we get to sing and dance in the suite every day (and occasionally in

the Taft) Thanks for all M&Ms! SOooo much, love always always <3 - Ellison (JE)

Zuyi Guan: I’m your secret admirer

From: Hailey Seo

Morse

Abram: Creep plays. Lingering occurs. Smiles all around. Much love. - Anonymous

Abram: You are not a creep. You are NOT a weirdo! Like literally not all you're literally cool so like don't even worry about it bro you're doing so great like literally I swear. - Ellen

Aengus: LOVE YOU BEAST

Anonymous girlfriend in Morse: to my girlfriend, the star that guides every curious heart, and the coolest dude I know. - Anonymous

Connor Arakaki: You're the bomb. Like, a big one. Love you Obi-Wan Kaboomi. - Jaijai Rhoads

Dhruv: Potion, potion, potion put my wheels in motion, motion, motion. Most of the motion in the potion infuses with steam I cannot see through but I can feel you singing from the window open the glass and let wind inside I love love love potion motion. So much love. - Ella

Elsa Durcan: Since you like raisins so much, how about we try a date ;) - BL '24

Fatima Aw: You're a bot + your optics are terrible

Fatima: I love how you have so many meals with first years--it's so kind! - Your secret admirer

Layla Hedroug: to my Lebanese bae, babygirlllll, I love you so bad. You captivate me everyday. You're so hot, sexy, cool, funny, Algerian,and everything good. I knew I liked mixed girls but this is so unexpected! I am not even scared of you being Muslim. - Anonymous

My dearest Emmitt Thulin: I miss you every single day. When I wake up... I think Emmitt, when I sleep... Emmitt. You even invade my dreams. Please Emmitt, come home. Come back to my love. -Your admirer

Rachel Dettelbach: I love you Ricky ur so sexy and blue-eyed. - Anonymous

Rafael Sosa: Need you henny. - Anonymous

Toby: You are perfect in every way and I love you so much!!! - Anonymous

Murray

Alex Nam: prof. nam knows. love you Dalaney Westbroek: Happy Valentines Day Besti! Thank you for our late night talks, Hamilton sessions, and sitting

through every single twilight movie with me! -Mia

Dalaney: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you have a wonderful day! Thank you for being you and making me laugh XOXO -Tiana

Daviana Rodriguez Zamora: Davi gets bitches. Love, Michelle Girouard

Dear Daviana: Whenever I see you, my day gets brighter and better. I'll send a rose so you finally know your secret admirer.

Dear Isabel Leka, President of the Pan-Hellenic Society: I am still wracking my brain trying to understand why I did not get a bid for Yale's Theta chapter, which I sensed could be my forever home.* Maybe next year? #senioryear *I guess I was wrong.

Dear Noah Bradley: I love you from the darkness. I wish you would love me too. I'm happy your are happy, though I am blue. One day you'll see me, I hope we will come to be. -Anonymous (your future lover)

Dear Sophia Kanga: YOU BETTER WATCH OUT! Noah is mine I will be his bride. Give him to me, or wait and see...The Same Anonymous

Deja Dunlap: [REDACTED] Will you be my valentine? Xoxo, Chet

Dylan Moss: You are the handsomest! Te quiero. - Anonymous

Emilee Jospey: I am your secret admirer :) - Anonymous

Emma: We love you more than you could imagine. Happy Valentine's Day. <3 - Hometown Buddies

Evie Gardner: Thanks for being weird. - Anonymous

Grace O'Grady: What an honor it has been to get to know you these last few months. I hope we can find time in the near fturue to frolick together in our matching shark slides. Thank you for GRACE-ing me with your presence. XOXO.

Grace: I <3 U! Thanks for being my bestie forever Valentine. Love, Nathania Hannah Szabo: Huge fan, love your work. - Rachel S.

Hannah Szabo: I love you etertnally. Right now in front of me, you're wearing red—which represents love. And I love you. Woah. XOXO, - Your Basement Baddie

Hannah Szabo: You are amazing and I am so glad we went to the same summer camp <3

Hannah Szabo: You lit as helllllllll -Someone who sees you from afar Ikenna: You are the baddest bitch I've ever seen. God please just give me a chance. I

dream of you my seet baby <3.- Your longing lover

Isabel Leka: I think of your Albanian beauty each night when I rest, each morning when I wake up. Let's skip the Balkan and get to talking?

Johannes Kretzler: When I first met you, I thought you were cute. You're probably still cute, but I don't know you.

- Anonymous

Maya W: I've seen you close and from afar. Hoping you'll finally notice me this 14th. I think I love you. Love, your secret admirer

Mia: Happy Valeintine's Day! Thank you for always making my day and listening to my crazy story's -Tiana Montana Dickerson: Stay awesome and sexy. - Adam

Nathania N: Roses are red, violets are blue, Valentine's is lovely, and so are you.

- Anonymous Nathania: You a real one

Nicholas Wyszkowski: I'm eagerly awaiting my big bear hug tonight as I'm sure you are too. Some might say I have attachment issues to you as my support human but always sending my love from across the courtyard. You've made my life exponentially better, just wanted to let you know. - Eva

Owen Curtin: writing this while I wait for you to come to dinner (YOU"RE LATE). Will you be my valentine? I <3 you!

Owen: I love you so much!!!

Paania Sharifi: The best thing that you can do for me for Valentine's is to transfer to UVA so I can get my dingle. - Anonymous

Rafaela Kottou: Ur the best - ur friend Patrick

Rafaela Kottou: You're the dreamiest Editor-in-Chief we've ever had <3. Much dreamier than Arthur. - Anonymous

Rebecca Salazar: Happy Valentine's Day! I'm so happy that we've become such good friends and I hope you have a wonderful day! -Camille

Sophia Kanga: Please help. I forgot my keys. Noah

Sophie Spaner: Roses are read, Violets are blue, I always cum to the covers of your Record issues

Summer/Annie: Happy Valentine's Day hotties <3 Best roomies ever XOXO.

Tiana Albuquerque: You genuinely brighten my day and are so sweet. I love seeing you and getting to laugh together. Happy Valentine's Day Tiana! -Dalaney

Vinh Tran: I'm really into you and I want to date you. -Anonymous

Pierson

Adam B: they told me love was dead. until you knew me in my own kitchen.

Anna Zhang: Hi :) You cute. Let’s hang.Anonymous

Anna Zhang: Hi :) You cute. Let’s hang.Anonymous

Christian Perieira: your eyes are so ice-piercing blue that I'm blinded each time I meet your arctic glare. I need you.

Declan: Hi! Happy Valentine's Day <3<3<3 love love love you [little drawing of two bows holding hands] - Alicia

E32: Happy Valentine's Day to you all. I hope it is a nice day - Jack "manso cheek" Cloherty

Ella Brenes: I look at you and I laugh, no but you see, in the best possible way. I'm smiling around you 24/7. One can't help but feel your infectious joy. - Sawan

Ella: Look what the cat dragged in… -

Anonymous (PS: Be you <3)

Ella: Season 2 of our show is off to a great start! (You're so silly you're carrying this show btw.) I am so excited for this to be one of those shows that's been on for like 20 years. I love you so much! - Your twin

Ella: Wait, can I just say something real quick? Words are literally the soundtrack to life. Like, think about that for like 10 minutes—literally crazy! (Also what would I do without you?!?!) - Ellen

Ella: you are the best. Endless love and hugs and smiles ~ I'm so lucky and glad to have you in my life <3 Francisca '26: Hope your semester is going well! Can't wait to talk shit about our law class and dance to crazy music again.

Jack Reed: i’m 2 days into college

Jane Park: Why are you so cute sexy smart perfect? - Anonymous (ES '26)

Judah Millen: You may have made me bi. You are just so big and intellectual.Anonymous

Jude Sack: I LOVE YOU. Have a great day cutie <3 - Abuelita

Lydia and Meg: happy Valentine's day to the best friends ever... you have my heart.

Lydia Monk: I need that fire D!!!!

Mashed Potato ('26): You are my love, my life, & my sweetheart. I want you to mash me so bad. Have a fuckin' bombass day. - Sweet Potato Fries ('25)

My roomate Leilani: you are a light! I love you.

My suitemate Ingrid: Sincerely, Lala. My suitemate Leilanie: Sincerely, Ingrid. My suitemate Meera: I <3 u - Lala

Nikita Mazotov: I think you are the best thing that has happened to me at Yale. I appreciate all the things you do for me. You are the most kind, thoughtful, and understanding person I know. I am grateful to have you for a second Valentine’s Day :)Iffat Zarif.

Ulrik Pharo-Lohne: Føkk Marte ha en fin valentinsdag, finn deg en herlig blsoc.Anonymous

Vanika: Ur so freaking adorbs!!! - Anonymous

Saybrook

Aruna Balasubramanian: Dear Runsi, Happy Valentine's Day! I am so lucky to have a little sister as wonderful as you. I will miss you a lot next year after graduating, but you will forever be my best friend and accomplice in tom-foolery. To many more midnight tea parties and Wednesday lunches. Love, you big bro, Ravi B11: I LOVE YOU!!!!

Colten Danelski: Du bist am besten in der ganzen Welt! Ich liebe dich! - Anonymous

Dear Amanda: Let's get ramen *wink*Serina <3

Elanor: I couldn't ask for a better friend, love youi so much!

Grace: I hope we can move past rush. Let's not let Theta get between us. I love you, you beautiful Brit.

Grey: LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

Happy Valentine's Day Yalies! Hope you guys have a day filled with love and happiness! - Anonymous

Jasmine Wu: Thank you for being you. I'm so grateful to have you in my life, and for your constant support. Love you and your silly theaters! Teach my sister how to be a MechE. - Anonymous

John Patton: You rowed your way into my heart. - Anonymous

Maggie Hardini: I love you with all my heart. You are soooo hot and sexy af.your secret admirer

Melanie Ulloa: Let's take things slow [Internet Explorer logo]. - Henke

Ravi Balasubramanian: to the boy with the cowboy hat, I constantly see you around campus and you spark so much joy. - Anonymous

Ryan Kenny: I've been thinking about

you all semester. - Anonymous

Serina Wang: to my favorite duck. Let's keep having deep thoughts! <3 Love, AC Seth: Happy Valentine's Day bae--day one for real! - Anonymous

The cute ragazzo from Napoli that I met in the Saybrook courtyard: CIAO BELLOOOOO! Trovami :) - Sarah

Thea: I've loved the last for mounths we've spent together. I thought I'd write you this to commemorate our first valentines day together. Let's have many many more. Love you to the stars and back.Zac

Willa: Your hair is like fire and so are your jokes. <3 Secret Admirer

Zack Hauptman: It's murder on the Dance Floor, & it kills me to be apart from youo. Thank God we live 2gether. <3Paola

Zoya Haq: Girl, I love you so very dearly! To boba to Book Trader to Yale Health visits, you always make my heart happy! Let's go to Book Trader soon! <3 - Cadence

Silliman

Bella Osgood: You have the prettiest smile :) I love you so much! - Anonymous

Ben Scheve: Hi Ben. Happy V-Day.

Here's hoping you find someone who love-bombs you the way you bomb your toilet. - Anonymous

Dexter Wells: Love you lots xoxo :) Happy you are doing better and you are such a wonderful person. Happy Valentine's Day. - Rowan

Isaidy: Plese tell your dad I love him and we need to fix the window <3

Mai Chen: respectfully, smash. - Love, your constant, faithful, and affectionate spouse

Norbu: you have a cute butt. hehe Sachien Fernando: 2 deceptively difficult people to convince to write Valentines. Thank you for sitting on rocking chairs in the Acorn and writing love poems. Very postmodern, etc. - Itembe Matiku

Sachien: Roses are red, violets are blue, but all flowers pale when up against you.Anonymous

William Huang: You make me so happy, I need you with me…in me…beside me…above me…below me…everywhere but away from me. I love you William, when I see you from afar my hands get sweaty, my feet get sticky, and my head…oh my head gets spinny until I fly away into my dreams of you. I luang for you huang. - Yours <3

Kylie Volavongsa: GOOOOOOLAZO! #LOVE U LADY MESSI - Paola

Jairus: You might have thunder thighs, but they make your prescence electric whenever you enter a room! - Anonymous

Sophia David: I know this is kind of sudden, but I've been thinkin a lot lately and I think we should make it official and tie the knot. Love, Your Baby

Stiles

Nadira Novruzov: Peepee poopoo. -Isaidy

Pheobe Yeh: I love you more than armlocks and berry lip gloss. - Connor Arakaki

Surabhi Kumar: I love you!

TD

Alex Ye: I feel we got a connection, and I can't stop thinking of you :) LMK <3 -

Anonymous

Giuliano: Come stai? Anche se sei in TD, tu se la cosa più bello che abbia mai visto. I tuoi capeli sono deliziosi e il tuo acccento è succulento. Come le storie di Boccaccio hai un animo nobile. Penso constantemente alla tua belleza britanni-

ca. Se sei Re Carlo (meno il cancro); posso essere la tua Regina.... -Il tuo ammira tore segreto

My scrambled egg: Thanks. I owe you one. - L.M. ’26

Laura Dragusha: you are a darling i love you literally mother

James Tibang: <3 ily

Freddy Laux: Asian King!

Snikitha Banda: i love you more than tezzie

Trumbull

Ariel '26: You are the most generous person ever. You are perfect and special and awesome. I love you and you are perfect. Have the bestest valentines. I love you.

Ariel Kirman: If loving you is wrong, I don't wanna be RIGHT <3 Love - Paola

Emily Aikens: How did one become so swag. It is crazy that such swag is even possible. Continue the swag. Never stop.Vlal-Micheal-von-Cunningham

NOA A BLOW: Erin & I say hi - Anonymous

Rohit Mathur: Print the sheet music. Also you still have to pay me back for glee tour :). - Emily Patrick Zoe: You are so awesome and I adore you!

Miscellaneous

??: Happy Valentine's Day! I miss you already.

219 Dwight: You hot horny hunks of love where would I be without your erotic energy. Stay hard.

4SKOR: NEVER QUIT WHAT YOU HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED! - With utmost respect, someone who believes Alex: please please please please please please please please please please give me a chance. -K

Aubrey Vaugh, Alexis Mburu, Jinell Reid: I love you powerful black women. <3 - Steven S

Bunna: Om nom nom nom nom Carlos: U r a pretty cool roommate. Sorry I snore and sleep talk. - Evan :)

Charley Cheng MIT ’26: Roses are red / Violets are blue, / Happy Valentine’s (3 days late) / I really miss you1 <3 From: Eleni Persinger

Dear Cayd: I love you. - David Foster Wallace

Dear Gia: Thank you for coming up to me in our intellectual history class. I love being intellectual with you, when that happens (basically never). LOVE

Dear Izzy: Wish you were here on Beinecke right now. I love you so much.

Happy Valentines Day <3 Hugo

Dear Kade: IN the words of DFW "In the struggles of adult life there is no such thing as atheism" - <3 <3 <3

Dear PEA-pod: U guys r the light of my life. love u 4L. can't wait to speak @ ur weddings. Love + kisses. P

Diya: I'm so glad to have met you and to call you my friend! Love you! - Anonymous

Ella & Ellen in Pierson and Franklin, respectively: All the way back to the YCR formal day, y'all have had my heart! Can't wait for some more adventures! - Cadence

Elle: I appreciate you always saying that you're going to set me up with one of the girls on the rugby team when I'm at the deepest depths of my straight situationships - Daniela

Everyone: Happy Valentines day! Wishing you all the best :)

Fortnite: Fort nite, Battle pass. I just shit—out my ass! Booted up my PC, cause I need (need) to get that fortnite battle pass. I like fortnite. Did I mention fortnite? I like fortnite; it's night time. I mean, it's five-o-clock, that's bascially nighttime. Y'all remember the Cartoon Network Adventure Time? Best, Your Secret Admirer (ambitious and driven Global Affairs firstyear at Yale University)

Grace: life is beautiful with you! The adventures we have are fantastic. I love you!

Happy V-Day: Sorry for hanging out with my Ex last V-Day and never telling you. I hope someone gets you flowers this year.

Hozier: Thank you for being Jesus: Tall, white, Irish Jesus. I love you.

Introductory Microeconomics: thank you for making me a socialist.

Jack: Happy Valentine’s day! I am so grateful you dmed your way into my life and I couldn’t be happier! I love you. Love, your gf <3

Jack: You’re a great boyfriend to Juliette! She loves you! - Anonymous

Lindsay: I just wanted to write to tell you how much I appreciated your role in my life during my time on the team. I've been a bit sidetracked so haven't stopped by as much as I'd like to. I will be in touch this semester, and I hope all is well! Best, Aidan

Miles: Happy Valentine's day ya goober!!! Here's to many more, preferably without the presence of a midterm. Can't wait for Georgia ;) With all the love, Q-money

Mr. 305: you rock my WORLD <3 <3 <3 - Bebelinda

My freckled princess & my beautiful L4 Arabic queen, ur so hot. Call me.

My girl squad: Thanks for always being there in the best and worst of times. XOXO, Olivia

My hallmate: I enjoy the conversations while we brush our tetth. It's the highlight of my day. Love, your secret admirer.

My Logic TF: Annette was right—a smile like yours is unforgettable. Yours (in another life), A.A.

my mom: ILY Love Son <3

My TF: all I during class is stare at you, mouth open. YOU ARE PERFECT.

Myself: Enjoy another single valentines day! Love, you <3

President Salovey: I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go.

Purple Crayon: you guys are so slay. funniest group ever <3

Roomie: Thank you for being cool :) HAGS PS. Boxplot at 10, check the website WAF2C.netlify.app. - Your mom (roomie <3)

Ryan Welper PhD (writing humor teacher): You are just such a sweet innocent Hunky man child. If only you were as funny as your absolute joke of a life. I toast my joint to you, maybe one day we can become lovers - Anon

Single Person: Try not to cry today!Anonymous

The beautiful women on the beinecke plaza with dark hair and gold Arabic necklaces: you are so so so so adored. Thank u for gathering with me <3

The beautiful women in beinecke, one who I've known already and one who I've (formally) met today: You both are perfect and I'm so glad to have spent such a lovely time with you both. kisses.

The guy across the hall: Ask her out. From <3

The Physician's Assistant: Thank you for keeping me young. - Anonymous

The tall man on heavyweight: I want to kiss you. - Anon

The two Jordan Davidsons: Happy Valentine's Day. - Anonymous

The Yale Free Press: Fuck you! - Everyone

Troy: Happy V-day and first bday

Wei-Ting: It took us 3 years to grab a meal, but we finally did it on Feb. 5, 2024. Maybe we can grab another meal in 2027? Awaiting reply. - Meal buddy

You Know: Let’s Mac and Cheese. From Puck Bunny #1

YPopup: Loved the food, but thought it was gonna be a hooters situation. - Quite Disgruntled

Quite Disgruntled: Come to our event February 16th. We’ll be wearing aprons only. - YPopUp ❧

Variety Booth

Madelyn

Dawson, SM ’25, Herald

staff

Atfirst, I couldn’t find her. When a friend told me that the Yale University Art Gallery had a Nan Goldin on display, my eyes attuned to bare chests and bruises, bodies draped across beds, faces forgetting themselves in the mirror.

Sure, she was small, only around twenty-one by nineteen inches, but she wasn’t of a particularly standout size amidst the other photographs on the wall. They were smaller and larger; more colorful and saturated and more muted. I could have walked right past her.

It was a voice, his voice, that brought me over to her. A quick “I really like this one” to change my focus. And there she was. Slightly too reddish to be sepia-stained, she turned her head from me completely. It wasn’t turned just enough to divert eye contact, nor to sneak a quick glance at something that had caught her attention to the left, but turned so intentionally as to remind me that it was turned. As if she had been waiting for someone to come by, see her head turned away, and wonder what kind of escape she was yearning for.

Nan Goldin took “Variety” Booth, New York City, in 1983, ten years after her first solo exhibition, but three years before her first book of photographs, The Ballad of Sexual Dependency would be published. Goldin was 30 years old, and had already made a name for herself among New York City’s underground queer and post-punk and no-wave scenes. Her work was embraced for its grittiness, its unabashed vulgarity, and its honest

depiction of how communities on the margins experienced the city. “Variety” Booth, New York City, was not taken, though, amid the noise of the city. It is a photographic still from a film called Variety, which was directed in 1983 by Bette Gordon. The film tracks the story of a young woman who works as a ticket-taker in a pornographic cinema, and finds sexual liberation through obsession. Read: she becomes obsessed with porn. It plays on the tropes of film noir, but allows the woman to seek and experience desire. It was advertised as a “feminist Vertigo.” Gordon herself called it simply, “a story about looking.”

It feels wrong, or at least somewhat icky, at first, to see Goldin so evocatively photographing this false reality. Only three years later, in the introduction to The Ballad of Sexual Dependency, she would write, “I don’t select people in order to photograph them; I photograph directly from my life… It’s as if my hand were a camera. If it were possible, I’d want no mechanism between me and the moment of photographing. The Camera is as much a part of my everyday life as talking or eating or sex... There is a popular notion that the photographer is by nature a voyeur, the last one invited to the party. But I’m not crashing; this is my party. This is my family, my history.”

What happens then, when Goldin’s subjects are not her family nor her history, when the camera becomes an object laden with intention and the world of the subject is one that was completely fabricated? With Variety, there’s

another level of voyeurism. For AnOther Magazine, Lucia Davis writes, “These images…blur the line between reality and fiction and further emphasize the connection and empathy Goldin frequently has with her subjects.”

Is this, then, manufactured empathy? Goldin’s photos appeared on the posters and advertisements for Variety, unlocking a new form of voyeurism as they were marketed to a public (albeit a particular underground public). Gordon’s so-called story about looking can’t possibly end at the big screen. She becomes a part of it. I guess that’s how it becomes her history. And in the wake of second-wave feminist anti-porn sentiments, this is a radical history, for both Gordon and Goldin.

It doesn’t seem that the story about looking has yet ended. Maybe I found someone or something in the sidelong glance of the ticket woman’s eyes, in the time I spent staring, waiting for her to turn her head back to me, meet my eyes as if to say it’s okay. You can feel desire too ❧

Decoupling Sex and Sleep

Hannah Szabó, MY ’25, Herald staff

M y first night with a boy, I didn’t sleep. Stumbling away from a dying houseparty, we made our way to the nearby public beach and entangled ourselves until the sun rose. The next morning, my stargazing companion boasted to our friends that we had “slept together”—a lie, whether taken literally or idiomatically, but one I acquiesced to with a furtive smile.

Years before I first had sex, I was spending nights in cars, closets, and campgrounds, wrapped up in the arms of various lanky, outdoorsy companions. In the morning, grumpy and groggy, I would crank the AC, drive in the slow lane of I-95, and pray that I wouldn’t crash. I cherished the rebellion of it all, the exhilaration

of physical intimacy. But I soon realized how much I hated actually spending the night together. I would sweat, he would squirm. Drool would trickle across our single pillow. Each time we shared a sleeping bag, my skin would sprout a constellation of pimples.

Sartre’s short story “Intimacy” opens with an especially compelling image of the disgust that can come with bedding together: “She heard rumblings: a gurgling stomach. ‘I hate it, I can never tell whether it’s his stomach or mine.’”

The erotic encounter soon transforms into a claustrophobic nightmare. Desire having been sated, the handsome mystery man appears grotesque. Even more disturbing is the terrifying thought that your

lover might have the same reaction to your own gurgles and burbles. Like Sartre’s protagonist Lulu, we are repulsed by both our bedfellow and ourselves: “It’s disgusting, why must we have bodies?”

There’s a reason that we use “sleeping together” to describe both the act of sex and spending the night afterwards. A natural correlation exists between these two deeply intimate bedded activities, ones in which we cede self-control. But whereas sex can be effortlessly natural, sleeping together is often an agonizing ordeal. We contort our bodies around one another to avoid collapsing into a single sweaty mass. This puzzle is an exercise in making ourselves small. We hold in our farts, bend our arms under our pillow, shrink into a corner of the bed as our partner thrashes around. “Dejar de ser para que tu sueño exista,” writes contemporary poet Cesár Cañedo. I let you dream by ceasing to be. And it’s not only our bodies that must shrink to make room for the other person. When sleeping with another, there is no private retreat of night, no time to process the day. We cast away our sacred moments of privacy. Under the gaze of another, washing your face and brushing your teeth become yet another performance.

Despite their formal similarities, sex and sleep are fundamentally opposite experiences: one grounds us in our body, the other takes us out of it. Sex is a shared act; sleep—even when beside another—is ultimately individual. Having come together as one, we wake up as two. And when the shadows lift and the morning sun comes through, this two-ness becomes painfully visible. The morning after our first night together, I offered a boy my extra toothbrush; instead of leaving it at my place for “next time,” he pocketed it. Perhaps this inevitable decoupling is what terrifies us most of all. ❧

A Yearner’s Worst Nightmare

Emily Aikens, TC ’26, Herald staff

As a decorated veteran of several undefined romantic entanglements, I feel particularly qualified to comment on situationships. Many a night have I listened to “Bags” by Clairo. Many a morning have I woken up to a Spotify Daylist titled something like “pining melancholic sunday morning.” Many an afternoon have I called my mother to explain how a questionably literate, possibly gay, definitely emotionally unavailable man is the next love of my life.

But I’m not special. All of my friends in relationships have also braved the situationship limbo. For months, they endured mixed signals, 2 a.m. hookups, and vague promises of future dates. How they escaped that purgatory and reached the oasis of stable companionship is a mystery to me. I guess they never truly knew yearning.

Situationships can only survive if one party bears this burden of yearning. If both members yearn, they end up dating. If neither yearns, the flame goes out. The quintessential situationship exists only so long as one member finds themselves down horrendous while the other is ambivalent (at best) or simply bored (at worst). The lover and the beloved are out. The yearner and the yearned are in.

Despite the frustration and confusion that situationships can cause, there is also something freeing about having an ambiguous connection to your partner. Sure, there are (allegedly) times when two individuals know that they are looking for either a committed relationship or a casual hookup

and communicate that with each other. In my experience, though, it takes time to understand what you are looking for with a particular person, and one of the only ways to find that out is by enduring the dreaded situationship.

There’s also something to be said for the lack of pressure involved in a situationship. Don’t want to go to your partner’s extracurricular event? No problem. It’s not like you guys are dating. Want to take another guy to formal? Totally fine… kinda? He’s asking to leave a spare toothbrush in your bathroom after a week of hooking up? Hmmmm let me think on that one.

My opinion on situationships also depends on whether they are queer or heterosexual entanglements. I’ve had both (Ugh, I know, another bisexual writing for the Herald??) and have found that situationships with women are invariably less complicated than those with men. Usually, when situationships head toward disaster, it’s due to a lack of communication. I am unsure whether I have just been fortunate enough to encounter an unusual number of emotionally unavailable men or whether this quality exists within

the entire species. Either way, most of my communication with men has been less productive than conversations in my “Bio, the World & Us” section. Women, on the other hand, are perfect. In my experience, participants in lesbian situationships are more likely to have intelligent conversations about boundaries and expectations. This should surprise nobody.

I am aware that this article will appear in the “Opinion” section of the Herald. I am also aware that I have not voiced a single concrete opinion in this article. It is not for lack of trying. After days of pondering, the best advice that I can give about situationships is to evaluate them on a case-by-case basis. But a piece of cautionary advice: situationships are only a situationship to one person. To the other, they’re usually nothing. If you are still confused about what exactly situationships entail, listen to “Waiting Room” by Phoebe Bridgers. The lyrics consist of her screaming “I know it’s for the better” thirty-six times with increasing amounts of devastating frustration. It’s great. If you are still confused about your opinion on situationships, write an article about it for the Herald. It’s equally great! ❧

wed. 2/14

ATTEND: Sigrid Nunez. A reading from the National Book Award winner and author of nine novels. 5-6 p.m. LC 317. Monthly Jazz Night. Relax, sip on a drink, and listen to Allen Lowe & The All-Stars’s romantic Valentine’s day set. 7 p.m. Best Video Film & Cultural Center, Hamden. $10. Tickets on bestvideo.com. ENGAGE: Vinyasa Yoga. Ground your morning and slow down your breath and mind. 11 a.m.-12 p.m. Schwarzman Center Dance Studio.

Missing & Murdered Indigenous Women’s Vigil. Featuring performances by ¡Oye! Spoken Word. 4:30-5:30 p.m. Women’s Table.

Valentine's Day Sonnet Slam. Perform a sonnet—translated or untranslated, read or recited from memory—and win romantic prizes. 6:30-7:30 p.m. WLH 309. Email kathryn.slanski@yale.edu to sign up.

thu. 2/15

ATTEND: Fabular Turn. Teju Cole, acclaimed novelist, discusses Louise Glück’s last three books. 4:30 p.m. HQ L02. New Haven Jazz. An intergenerational group of NHV-bred musicians honor the city’s jazz history and future in the historic Dixwell neighborhood. 6-8 p.m. 169 Henry St. Conscious Listening. Exploring intimacy, self-care, and wellbeing through music with live jazz from vocalist Sarah Elizabeth Charles and pianist Jarrett Cherner. 7-9 p.m. The Dome, Schwarzman. Tickets on schwarzman.yale.edu.

The Remains of the Day. James Ivory’s 1993 adaptation of the Kazuo Ishiguro novel on 35mm print. 7-9:30 p.m. HQ Lower Level. The Last Chance at Love Show. Laugh your single woes away with jests from Yale’s oldest stand-up comedy group. 9-10 p.m. Crescent Underground. Register on Yale Connect.

mon. 2/19

ATTEND: The Head, The Heart & The House. An opening reception for the exhibition, an exploration of migration and modernism in King-lui Wu’s domestic architecture. 1 p.m. North Gallery, Paul Rudolph Hall. Alexander Straus-Fausto. An organ Master of Music Degree recital. 7:30 p.m. Woolsey Hall.

ENGAGE: Mindfulness Mondays. Explore meditation skills to reduce stress and boost self-compassion. 1-1:30 p.m. Good Life Center Lounge, Schwarzman. Register on Yale Connect.

Adopt a Seedling. Grab all types of seedlings, from cilantro and spinach to basil and dahlia, then repot them with plastic pots and soil. 6:30 p.m. Marsh Botanical Garden Greenhouse. Register on Yale Connect. AACC Game Night. Learn fun games, meet fun people, and snack on treats. 7:30 p.m. Asian American Cultural Center.

tue. 2/20

ATTEND: Homeira Qaderi and Fatemeh Shams. Qaderi, Afghan novelist and memoirist, converses with Shams, one of the foremost Iranian poets of her generation, on the art of poetry. 12-1:30 p.m. Online. New York Ninja. Hours of silent, unedited 35mm 1980s film discovered, assembled, and filled with dialogue by Kurtis Spieler in 2021—talkback with Spieler in person! 7-9 p.m. HQ Lower Level.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? A screening of Mike Nichol’s 1966 Oscar-winning drama—with free, fresh popcorn. 7-9 p.m. Best Video Film & Cultural Center. $10. Ghost Mountain: The Second Killing Fields of Cambodia. The story of Bunseng Taing, a Cambodian refugee who survived genocide and a second, undocumented horror. 5-6:30 p.m. Luce 101.

ENGAGE: Making Malas. Join the Yale Buddhist Student Community and make loops of prayer beads used to count repetitions of mantras. 4:30-5:30 p.m. Trumbull Room. Register on Yale Connect.

ATTEND: The Role of Fashion in Modern Life. Dr. Jeffrey C. Alexander and William Zhang discuss how fashion shapes our existence, creates social commentaries, and expresses our identities. 11:15-12:45 p.m. Peck Room, Schwarzman. Register on schwarzman.yale.edu.

Queer Movie Night. Free snacks and a screening of Bottoms, Emma Selgman’s comedy about lesbian high schoolers who conspire to get their dream girls—fight club style. 7-9 p.m. Office of LGBTQ Resources. Yale Concert Band. An eclectic, moving program of music from Stravinsky, Russell Peck, Omar Thomas, and Leonard Bernstein. 7:30 p.m. Woolsey Hall.

Noche de Amor. La Orquesta Tertulia celebrate love in their spring showcase by dancing and singing to salsa and merengue hits. 8-10 p.m. Hopper Cabaret. Register on Yale Connect.

Cunning Linguists. A Valentine’s show from The Good Show inviting you to explore the many functions of the tongue. 8-10 p.m. Davenport-Pierson Auditorium. Register on Yale Connect.

ongoing

You See What You See. Explore waves of light and sound in this fantastical, interactive video and sound installation by artist Ein Kim. 3-8 p.m. Kondoleon Studio, 217 Park St. Feb. 15-17. and the forms which linger / humming in our ears. A spring thesis exhibition of pieces by the YSA’s painting and printmaking MFA students. Holcombe T. Green Jr. Hall. Until Feb. 17. Munch and Kirchner: Anxiety and Expression. Examining the overlaps of their experimental prints, which engage the anxieties of their age through color and abstraction. Feb. 16-Jun. 22.

ATTEND: JAMbushed! Redhot & Blue’s night murder mystery features jazz acapella, mystique, and manslaughter. 7 p.m. Sudler Hall.

The Rake’s Progress. Yale Opera’s new production of Stravinsky’s Faustian masterpiece centering Tom Rakewell’s fall after he makes a deal with the devil. 7:30 p.m. Shubert Theatre. $24. Tickets on my.shubert.com.

Yale Alley Cats x Red Hot Poker. A collaboration of song, sketch, and laughs. 9 p.m. SSS 114. Register on Yale Connect. $5.

ENGAGE: Tteokbokki & Tales. Snack on spicy rice cakes, read from Jeremy Holt’s graphic novel “Made in Korea,” and talk about family and gender. 3-4 p.m. Asian American Cultural Center. Register on Yale Connect. New Haven Zine Scene. Make a zine with provided supplies, read zines, or bring one to show off, and chat with other creatives. 11 a.m.-1 p.m. Possible Futures.

ATTEND: Pas De Deux: Harmonic Motion. Berkeley College Orchestra and the Yale Ballet Company explore how dance makes music visible. 2:30 p.m. Battell Chapel. Register on Yale Connect. New Haven Jazz Underground. A medley of trumpet, piano, and drums under dim light. 3-5 p.m. Ely Center of Contemporary Art. Mia Borders. A funky and jazzy performance from a singer/songwriter heralded both nationally and in her hometown of New Orleans. 4 p.m. Cafe Nine. Tickets on cafenine.com. $10. 21+.

Sunday Scaries. Jolt yourself awake with a screening of horror movies My Bloody Valentine and Valentine. 4-8 p.m. Witch Bitch Thrift.

ENGAGE: EveryBody Dances with Lorelei Chang. A masterclass from the renowned modern dancer, Qigong and Taijiquan teacher, and Chinese calligrapher. 11 a.m.-12:30 p.m. Register on schwarzman.yale.edu.

Illustration and Original Design by Cleo Maloney

(things we hate this week)

Hugs

Just fuck me already.

Naked Parties

I'm drippin' and they hate it.

Quiet Sex

UH UH UH. FUCK ME FUCK ME YEAA YEAAA.

Rough Sex Wahooie!

69ing

Nash equilibrium.

Sex in a Foreign Language

Ooh la la, tu vag es bonito.

Muffing

Fucks with my object permanence.

Clit rings

Tore out my septum.