At the beginning of last spring, I sat down to an ambiguous dinner/date with a particularly inquisitive friend who, after a discussion of my freshman year spent at UCLA and his ex-girlfriend from high school who is now a student there (wonderful first date conversation I might add), proceeded to ask what the differences are between Harvard and UCLA men. Using my best first-date behavior, I proceeded, uncensored, to enlighten him with the following:

1) Harvard men have spent the last 20 or so years being told by their mothers, their grandmothers, and every teacher in their high school that they are the eighth wonder of the world.

2) Harvard men are ambitious, know what they want in life, and don’t intend to let anything get in the way of their obtaining it.

This quite possibly explains why Harvard men appear to want—no, expect—a woman who will praise them like their mothers did. I am not claiming that Harvard men have an Oedipus complex. I am simply saying that, since they think highly of themselves, they expect others to think highly of them as well. They think they deserve the best.

But let’s face it, girls. We are not all that much better. We too have been praised for the majority of our childhood years by those closest to us. We too are ambitious.

And, to frustrate things to an even further extent, we women want it all. We want a man to buy us flowers, take us to dinner, open the car door, and shower us with gifts and an invitation to his final club weekender, while at the same time respecting our intellectual and emotional capacity as strong and empowered future leaders. We want a man to think of us as Saved By the Bell’s sexy vixen Kelly Kopowski but respect us for having the brains of Jesse Spano.

I myself had a similar dilemma while in the second grade. During my obsession with the American Girls series of books, dolls, and doll accessories, my mother informed me that I could pick one American Girl doll I wanted for Hanukah. Elated and overwhelmed, I ravaged through the catalogue without leaving a single page unturned. The problem was that while I wanted Samantha (because she was prim, proper, drank tea and ate crumpets, and was of course beautiful), I wanted all of the accessories of Molly (um, a wooden desk, a brown lunch bag with a sandwich and apple, and a few composition books and pencils). Already, my internal conflict was stirring within.

We Harvard women want to be brainy and beautiful. We want to be strong yet protected. And we want a man who can make us feel just that.

It is no wonder that relationships between a set of such complex and ambitious people with equally high standards are hard to come by. That’s not to say, however, that dating at Harvard is impossible. In fact, I know of several perfectly healthy, normal, loving relationships. Ok, that’s not true—I know several ambiguous/pseudo-married/slightly to extremely dysfunctional couples, and about two of the alternative kind.

In all seriousness, I do not mean to deter the Harvard undergraduate population from dating. Rather, I mean to suggest that said population take a moment to consider why it seems as though it is so difficult to have a successful and meaningful relationship on this campus and whether our alternative priorities and unique-to-Harvard-students personality quirks should continue to keep us from obtaining them. There is much to be said for ambition. There is also much to be said for having a clear path for the future. But there is much to be said for human interaction, for true emotion, for eliminating barriers and experiencing intimacy.

There is a reason so many Harvard students had ego-inflating childhoods—we are a group of unique, intelligent, interesting people. I personally believe that relationships here have the potential to offer as much to be learned from and admired as writing a prize-winning thesis or becoming president of a prestigious organization.

So go ahead—tell that cute boy or girl in section you’d like to have dinner sometime. Say yes to “hanging out” with a potential more-than-just-friend even though you have a paper due in three days. And maybe this semester you can pick up an extra course—in human romance. I hear the Core department is thinking of making it a requirement. Oh, and in case you’re wondering—I had one more date with question-boy, but, shockingly, no relationship.



Jillian N. London ’07 is a philosophy concentrator in Adams House. Her column appears on alternate Wednesdays.