Eva Jaber ‘28 (she/her) is a prospective English or international relations major. She is a member of the Cleftomaniacs, an a cappella group, an ESL tutor, and hopes to encourage peace-minded advocacy on campus. Contact her at ehjaber@wm.edu.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
I am going to begin with a quick anecdote. This winter break, after a series of unfortunate events that included a 100-meter dash through the Istanbul airport, I unexpectedly found myself in Dubai. Some weary travelers would have been upset that their flight pattern was disrupted. Many would have certainly preferred sleeping in a warm bed over watching “Despicable Me 4” in the sky. Not me. You see, dear reader, as I took off toward an unintended destination, I celebrated. I got ready to stay up an extra seven hours and texted my mom that I was about to visit the birthplace of “Love is Blind: Habibi.” I can only imagine that, at that moment, she had never felt more pride.
For those of you who have lived a sad existence and aren’t familiar with “Love is Blind: Habibi,” it is the version of the Netflix reality TV dating show “Love is Blind,” wherein people get engaged without ever seeing each other, that takes place in the Arab world. It is the single greatest thing ever created by humankind. Sliced bread pales in comparison. In fact, I firmly believe that I have achieved a level of moral, intellectual and argumentative dominance over my readership simply by having spent three hours in an airport that is only a one hour and 18 minute walk away from where they filmed the weddings for “Love is Blind: Habibi”.
So, where does that leave us? Well, this seemingly-tangential story serves many rhetorical purposes. First, it gives my article this week a bit of anecdotal charm. Second, it lets me mention my mom in the piece, and neither of my siblings have ever mentioned her in a publication, which thus makes me the favorite (???). And, lastly, this is my ethos. I have just established a level of credibility that is beyond comprehension. This gripping story is my ticket to legitimacy. Legitimacy for what, you ask? For the question this week, which is as follows:
“How to fully get over last semester’s situationship?”
Now, if there is one thing I share with my predecessor, Adam, it is a respect for grammatical conventions. I bet you as a reader would love to see me just tear this person apart for how little this phrase even grammatically resembles a question. Tough luck. I am an empath. I read this broken sentence structure, and I see a broken heart. Never fear, though; I am here to fix it.
You may have difficulty trusting me with such sensitive subject matter, because you don’t have any insight into what my life is like. Is Eva taken? Is she single? Is she ready to mingle? For all you know, I could very well be writing with the naive positionality of having spent the past seven years in my dream relationship (dating a real life character from Twilight, preferably named Jacob, maybe also a werewolf; the specificity is actually quite random and is for the sake of the argument). I could just as easily have written this question myself and been using this column as a coping mechanism. Whether or not I have had personal experience with situationships, though, is actually irrelevant. What truly matters is my wealth of knowledge about the “Love is Blind” universe, which is basically an environment that forces the development of ten simultaneous situationships at any given time. So, without further ado, I present to you multiple very strong solutions to help get over last semester’s situationship.
1) Remember your worth. Behind this satirical facade of mine, there lies an individual who genuinely cares about your wellbeing. You mean more than what you meant to them. If they cannot see your value, they are not and never were the one for you. Sidebar: this is high-key poetic. Get me on one of those Flat Hat instagram quote slides stat.
2) Revenge. Last semester is still pretty recent. I bet you’re going through it, and that’s unfair. You may be familiar with the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. We are not dealing with grief here; we are dealing with vengeance. My proposed five stages of vengeance are a bit more specific and a bit more verb-y than noun-y. Step one: herd seven Canada geese into your quasi-ex’s dorm room. Step two: label these geese one through eight and skip number six. Step three: tip off their roommates that goose number six is very much real and is the craziest of them all. Step four: wait for chaos to ensue as your quasi-ex (and their poor roommates, who got unintentionally involved by associating themselves with someone lame) frantically search for imaginary goose number six. Step five: wear a custom shirt around campus labeled “Goose Number Six” and, when confronted, snidely remark to your quasi-ex “I bet it drove you crazy that you couldn’t catch this one.” It is baller and foolproof. You’re welcome.
3) Watch “Love is Blind: Habibi”. It will help you understand that many people have dealt with frustrating situationships, and that they made it out alright. It will restore your faith in love as you watch the lucky few find joy and companionship. Most importantly, it will bring you one step closer to being exactly like me. Enough said.
I’ll leave you with one more suggestion. As an unbiased, objective opinions writer, I only have your best interest in mind. Although humility is my greatest quality, and it pains me to be so forward, I know this is the best advice I could give you. I would be remiss if I didn’t do everything possible to help you find happiness. With this, I give you option four.
4) Date me.
Okie dokie. See you in two weeks — or earlier. Dinner and a movie (“Twilight”) would be just fine.
