Point: You’re So Cute!
Crypto Bro
The sun-bright construction lights lining Ridgewalk illuminated everything from the darkest corner of the Sixth College dorms to the trees of Torrey Pines. You could see everything at half past midnight, but all I saw was you. You were paper-white in those lights, the frigid, 67-degree night air giving you a windswept look. That was the night we came back from your ex-turned-best friend’s place after you two argued over who would keep the half-decade-old air fryer. Leaving with bruised knuckles and a hickey on your neck, the stainless-steel machine in your arms: I fell in love.
Do you remember how we stole my roommate’s “expensive” shampoo when you stayed over for the 30th consecutive day in our Muir triple? We made the best bubble bath in that 50-year-old Tuolumne shower — by the way, didn’t know that bath bombs came in dark-grey with black glitter! You slept in her bunk, I in mine, but we couldn’t keep apart from each other for long. Our sweet love that night reflected my life’s heartbeat: ever-pounding.
You don’t know just how much I love you. I extol your virtues with pride: my project partners in CCE 2 know all about your eternal presence in my heart and wallet — that racy photo you gave me burns in my mind as much as theirs. There is no other girl I see myself intimately touching in broad daylight on park benches, no other girl I could enter abandoned lecture halls with to do teacher/student roleplay with — my star pupil, my paramour nonpareil!
You are altogether perfect, my love: there is no flaw in you. You are cute, and I love you.
Counterpoint: No, You Are!
Aspiring Tradwife
Sitting on a rain-soaked seat on the bus after accidentally getting onto the SIO route, I didn’t think that my finals week Friday could get any worse. Then a goddamn freshman who refused to move to the open seats at the back closed their umbrella in my face, showering me with the gray acid rain of La Jolla skies.
But you — beside me, refusing to look up from your phone, not knowing nor caring who I was — deigned to ask me a simple question: “Do you think Taylor Swift’s gonna get married to Travis Kelce on June 13th?”
You had Polymarket open on your phone, split-screened Monika (DDLC) Character AI and Grok on your laptop, and brightened up my day with a cute little question about betting chances. Even though I guessed wrong and you lost your entire Dogecoin-Ethereum wallet, I knew that I’d never forget your half-grin and our adorkable meet-cute. From there, I pined after you from afar, puppeteering every little minor interaction until that “first time” we met under the Goody’s Marketplace stars.
I didn’t fall in love with the 32 cents in your bank account, nor your Andrew Tate–recommended Bugatti (2010 Toyota Corolla): I fell for you. You and your belligerence towards service workers. You and your willingness to run red lights in school zones. You and your refusal to stop listening to Joe Rogan, even as a genderfluid lesbian.
We’re one in a million, baby! What are the chances that we’d meet like that, out of the thousands of UC San Diego students there are? No other girl will ever get me like you do; no other girl sees me like you do. If I’m cute, then you’re adorable. If I’m adorable, then you’re heaven-sent. You’re the cutest girl in the universe. And I love you more.
World-renowned rapper, set ordinance, and map direction, Patriarch Cardi(nal) previously ventured on a quest by the Basileus ton Rhomaion to find the elixir of life. Failing in this, he was then banished to live in the oubliette of the Méga Palátion in Constantinople — and now begs for those above the grate to "let him out of the pit."
