Welcome to college! It’s your first day of class, and you’re basking in your new collegiate self. You’re the prime example of a well-adjusted freshman. You’ve had your first sip of alcohol outside of a family gathering during zero week, spent the last few days with a solid group of people in which you’ve already mentally assigned the Rachel, the Ross, the Monica, the Phoebe, the Chandler and the Joey, and managed to enroll in all the classes you wanted.
Sitting in Chemistry 20A, you try to convince yourself that you’ve always wanted to be Phoebe. As you wait for the professor to arrive, a tall and delightfully nerdy fellow takes the seat two spaces away from you. You surreptitiously observe him as he unpacks his well-stocked binder, and as he opens the front cover, you catch a glimpse of a Planet Express sticker from your favorite television show! Even though this individual is clearly of mixed heritage, lanky and possesses no similarities to the actor, the image of Paul Rudd flashes before your eyes.
Five weeks later, you realize you haven’t spotted Paul Rudd since week three because, unbeknownst to you, he dropped the class after the first midterm, became an English major, rejoiced that his parents were surprisingly understanding about the entire thing, met his future wife in his GE class and forgot all about those Chemistry 20A lectures and that girl who always sat two spaces away.
Another five weeks later, you finally accept the loss of your crush. You really thought that something maybe possibly could have happened if only you had said that funny remark you thought of during class out loud, or asked him for help on a homework problem, or if the sun’s zenith angle had been less than 75 degrees that day. But Paul Rudd isn’t the only subject of insincere affection you’ll meet in college. Alas, he is the first of many.
Paul Rudd is an example of an all-clues-point-to-soul-mate “soul mate” crush. Primarily taking place during freshman year, this type of crush is mostly fueled by the myth that most people meet their future spouses before the age of 18, and even though you turned 18 a month ago, you’ve convinced yourself that there’s still a residual time period in which this statistic applies. As a result, you’ve become hyper-conscious of every “unique” quality that another individual shares with you, e.g., choosing root beer at the dining halls.
Brain crush is another one you’ll have, since you’re not that shallow. He’s the guy in your discussion who uses SAT words appropriately in his everyday speech or the kid during open mic night at Kerckhoff whose racist joke about your people made you cry from laughter. You two would definitely get along if the perfect opportunity just came along, and you two got stuck in an elevator together.
TA or professor crush isn’t as creepy as it sounds, as you quickly explain to your friends. It’s a completely intellectual thing – a total brainer. It’s just that no teacher in high school has ever made you feel that way before or has given you such a clear and thorough explanation of the hybridization of atomic orbitals before. Your Ross friend puts his hand on your shoulder out of understanding.
Floor-cest or “insert club or organization name here”-cest is the most reasonable one so far on the list because the object of affection actually has something in common with you, even if it’s just your resident assistant. Was it just you who felt that spark during icebreakers at the first general meeting?
Coincidence-or-fate crush is a fun one that you really just keep to amuse yourself. You have had a whopping total of zero minutes of direct interaction with this person, but you always happen to see him walking to class or around Westwood, of all places. Be it the universe or the Registrar’s Office, you’ve made up at least a dozen scenarios in your head that always end up him being the next all-clues-point-to-soul-mate “soul mate.”
Paul Rudd crush, as some scholars argue, may not constitute as a crush because this one is quite genuine. You have had multiple conversations with this person and have a real basis for like-liking him. You don’t want to jinx anything right now, but you really hope you’re Phoebe. Only time will tell.
Now, you’re in your third year at UCLA, a reasonable, non-slutty amount of crushes later. You’re basking in your seasoned collegiate self as you recall all the crushes that have become good friends, and the ultimately cute stories you’ve collected as a result of trying to achieve “the perfect opportunity.” You’ve accepted yourself as a serial crusher because that’s what your Meyers-Briggs Personality Test said about you. And there’s really nothing you could do about it now, anyway, except maybe get a boyfriend. But, baby steps.
Nazareno is a third-year civil engineering student.