Mating rituals at MIT are something else entirely. Here, your personal worth is determined by your workload: your lack of sleep, your berth of problem sets, your number and difficulty of major. Your “hard coreness,” so to 5p3a|<. We’ve seen it time and time again. Two sullen students recognize each other in line at La Verde’s.
Tiredly, the first asks: “Hey, how’s it going?”
Confidently (but also tiredly), the other responds: “Oh, man, I’m so hosed. I just pulled two all-nighters and still haven’t started my third pset that’s due tomorrow.”
Faux-sympathetic acknowledgment: “Yeah … I just finished my fourth pset of the week and have to stay up all tonight to start and finish a stupid HASS paper.”
Evoking the triviality of his opponent’s assignments, the other continues, “I’d rather take a HASS test than read a hundred pages on something completely irrelevant to anything.”
Check: “The paper’s not as bad as the programming project I’ve got due at the end of the week. My group hasn’t even met yet.”
Suddenly, out of nowhere: “Oh, and I just added a UROP, so I’m now at 72 units.”
Checkmate.
The victor’s sub sandwich is up, he grabs it and swaggers off to the caffeinated drinks before gloating smugly at his inferior from the checkout line.
As a system of attracting potential mates, or dates, this process presents some obstacles. Why is mating at MIT so difficult?
Third: Winners of this competition are rarely the best to date. I’ve heard of a guy who’s girlfriend dumped him because he spent more time with his robot than her. Doesn’t sound too ridiculous, does it?