Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Philadelphia, we set our scene,
But this is no great Shakespearean romance. It seems that by the time you graduate from college, you should have at least three failed situationships you have to avoid eye contact with while walking down Locust, a homoerotic friendship that would’ve gotten you diagnosed with hysteria in the 1500s, and a hoard of embarrassing Hinge profile screenshots. Yes, love is a messy, messy thing in your 20s. As we venture into this strange jungle that is adulthood, there is an insurmountable pressure to not just find yourself, but also to find your soulmate. But when every moment is a potential meet–cute and everyone a potential suitor, life feels romantically exhausting.
After all, these frat bros cannot be the same boys Juliet laid in her deathbed over.
There is no denying that our society is ruled by romantic desire. It is the subject of great poets and the theme of way too many songs. But a life with only one partner is a life of missed opportunity. What is a renaissance if not a period of cultural change, an age of exploration? And what is love if not an expansive, all–encompassing force?
So let us move away from one–and–done romance. There is a breadth of love to discover beyond the realm of dating. What does it mean to love? Street is asking that very same question. It is my housemates who offer to cook me dinner after a bad day and my first–year hall friends who always make sure to walk me home, even if they now live on the opposite side of campus. It is my older siblings who answer phone calls at any hour of the night and my parents who still wish me luck before every exam and read every single article I write. It is the best friend I bring as a plus–one to a wedding, the childhood friends that still remember my favorite movie all these years later, and all the darling people I have met through this very magazine.
For never was a story of less woe than this Street editor and her disinterest in Romeo.
SSSF,
Jules Lingenfelter
