Floorcest. If Webster’s dictionary had a college life
edition, the definition would no doubt include the following:
“No. 1 thing to avoid if one plans on having an enjoyable
dorm-living experience.”
There’s a reason why floorcest is the marriage of a normal
place to live and a socially shunned, barbaric habit: The
action is doomed to end in tragedy. It may seem harmless at first,
but as soon as you get to the tail end of the relationship, things
start to get Oedipal.
Students are often blinded by one of the most magnetic
principles of attraction ““ proximity. To avoid the ensuing
agony that could lead to a fate as comparatively destructive as
self eye-gauging, resist your urge to date the cutie living down
the hall.
No matter how attractive said floormate is while sporting
nothing more than a towel en route to the shower, the hidden
agonies of failed floorcest will plant pounds of emotional
cellulite on even the fittest coed.
Stop right there in the hallway; skip the visualization
involving terry cloth removal and fast-forward to the inevitable
breakup/morning-after awkwardness. It won’t be quite so
pleasant to gaze at this crush flirting with another by “your
spot” ““ the drinking fountain where you first
kissed.
Don’t fall victim to the incorrect assumption that you and
your floormate are magically impervious to the facts of life:
People break up; some cheat, and many exes can be cruel.
Many people find their soul mates in college. Many more find
their partners more unpalatable than the dining hall’s
mystery meat before the year is through.
Post-floorcest awkwardness can bring more drama to the floor
than could ever be performed by a building full of theater
students. But it’s real, and the only acting involved is both
of you pretending everything’s OK. I’ll personally
award you an Oscar if you can convince yourself that the fake
hunky-dory attitude is genuine.
There’s no script when it comes to aftermath of floorcest,
no intermission and the curtain call can be months away. Instead,
you have awkward run-ins and silent elevator rides, intra-floor
gossip and a claustrophobia fueled by not being able to escape each
other’s presence.
At a big school like UCLA, small communities such as dorm floors
are comforting, family-like units. At its best, your floor can be
where you find your niche and spend countless hours engaging in
communal procrastination. Such “wasted time” may not
yield the most efficiently written papers, but it can bring about
lasting friendships and unexpected eye-opening conversations.
You can find study buddies, clothes-swapping partners, lunch
pals and work-out companions on your floor, but look for
significant others elsewhere.
Who knows? Maybe your hot next-door neighbor has an even better
looking friend who lives three floors up, or gasp, yards from
dorm-dating doom, a world away on Kelton Avenue. But if you stay
within the narrow floor bubble, you may never get to know this
potential mate. Having a very attractive and healthy distance
between your living spaces exponentially increases your chances for
dating survival.
Despite this cynicism, hope is not lost for you hopeless
romantics out there with wedding plans for yourself and the floor
president.
If true love is meant to blossom within dorm boundaries, it will
be obvious by spring. At that time you’re close enough to
move-out day and with new residences on the horizon, the
possibility of a tragic dating denouement is much slimmer.
Don’t let fall quarter let you fall into the floorcest
trap.
Retain your sanity and your friends by keeping your floor
relationships platonic for at least one ““ but preferably two
““ sets of final exams. If your floorcestual love does endure
the test of time, I award you an A+, you’ve set a nearly
impossible curve, my friend. Others should study your example for
years to come.
Bonos is the 2003-04 copy chief. E-mail her at
lbonos@media.ucla.edu.