“It frequently seems that one has only two options for romantic interaction: to follow the immortal words of Liz Phair and ‘fuck and run,’ or become the extra roommate in the significant other’s suite.” Sadly, almost ten years later, the prophetic words of Meredith K. Broussard ’95 appear to still hold true for Harvard.

As if the normal level of complaints wasn’t high enough, tomorrow will be marked by an even louder than usual drone of lonely Harvard singles cursing their love lives and blaming these ivory walls for their dating shortcomings. But while Harvard might not be able to brag about its dating success, at least it can’t be blamed for trying. Over the years, students have never been short of possible solutions to the problem. With the same devotion they apply to resolving other pressing conflicts, many Crimson visionaries have initiated bold proposals—though with little success—in an effort to energize the anemic dating scene that plagues our school. As a Crimson columnist from the 1980s so eloquently put it, “Loneliness can motivate anyone to do most anything—this is Harvard after all.” In the spirit of St. Valentine’s Day, I dedicate this column to memorializing the probing analyses and valiant efforts throughout the years to nurture love in Harvard’s notoriously a-sexual atmosphere.

Faced with the dismal prospect of all her friends attending the House formal stag, in 1992, a senior in Leverett House realized that unless she took action, her peers would be doomed to singledom. With an altruistic spirit, this dating activist created a free—and appropriately confidential—dating service to match Leverett House members with their hopeful admirers.

In an effort to help Harvard students find love on campus, the Undergraduate Council (UC) introduced the infamous Datamatch in 1995. They claimed their computerized dating service would “pair would-be lovers with their perfect mates.” UC representatives were so determined to help their dateless constituents that they even pitched in the money for a school dance to help bring the newly matched lovebirds together.

During the late 1990s a new craze of mock dating shows overwhelmed the campus. Taking their cues from game show classics like “The Dating Game” and “Singled Out,” Pforzheimer, Winthrop, Quincy and the Yard organized their own dating games as a charity measure for the dating delinquents of their respective Houses.

In 1999, a group of Winthrop sophomores attempted to motivate the stagnant Harvard dating scene by starting an on-line dating service called DateSite.com. “Sometimes Harvard students need all the help they can get,” explained one participant, crediting the shortcomings of the school’s dating scene for the popularity of the service.

If these efforts were not pathetic enough, just last spring, the UC created an actual task force determined to spice up our love lives. The Council initially earmarked between $1,000-2,000 in funding to combat the undergraduate dating crisis. The ingenious solutions included offering discounted movie tickets and a speaker series on dating etiquette to help lessen the burden of approaching that special someone. Even our new UC vice president was in on the idea: “Dating is pretty abysmal at Harvard,” explained Michael R. Blickstead ’05. “We realized it was a problem, so we created a subcommittee to tackle it.”

While these past dating services were all well intentioned, they were sadly not able to spark new romance on campus. A 1999 Crimson survey found that close to 40 percent of students had never had a romantic relationship that lasted longer than a week at Harvard.

Every student has his or her own theory as to why our campus seems romantically challenged. While the explanations might vary over the years, many students identify problems with their fellow peers—and not their own lack of initiative—as the culprit of their love life deficiency. A Crimson article published in 1993 cited Harvard women’s less than perfect presentation as a significant contributor to the problem. “Harvard men see a pretty wide cross-section of the Harvard female population. But when they watch Florida State football games on T.V., cameras focus on cute, frosted-blond cheerleaders…because of varying degrees of concern with fitness and physical appearance, schools are probably out there with better-looking female populations.” Another student from the mid-90s explained, “The whole atmosphere is very competitive here. What with the huge workloads, there isn’t a lot of time left for ‘extra-curricular’ activities.” While our student body might demonstrate activism and determination in its dating programs, ironically, it seems that when it comes to our own love lives, many of us are despondently passive.

But for all the complaining, there are students here who actually do date—though I can assure you they are not the ones who wait for a dating service from the UC to help them find a good time. Year after year, our poor school has suffered a bad name as students bemoan Harvard’s romantic shortcomings, but do little to improve their own situation. Harvard’s love-deprived ought to take the initiative this Valentine’s Day to stop blaming the system, get off their lonely single butts and do something about it themselves. They might discover that this place isn’t so bad after all.

Lia C. Larson ’05 is an economics concentrator in Adams House. Her column appears on alernate Fridays.