Valerie and Stephanie Naratil/YH

Dear Reader,

I feel like we’ve been through a lot. I’ve been giving you advice on dating at Yale for some time now, and it’s been a really special period for me. I hope you feel the same way. But I’ve also felt like there has been something I need to tell you. It’s a tad awkward, but I guess I’ll just go ahead and say it.

DO NOT DATE ME! More importantly, DO NOT DATE ANYONE LIKE ME!

I’m talking about seniors. There are a lot of regrettable decisions you can make at Yale—taking Micro Economics, for instance, drinking too much (or not enough) before your date to the Screw shows up, or bringing a Q-Packer home from Toad’s. But none could be quite so devastating as going steady with someone for their last year here at Yale. Sure, there are temptations—the privacy of their senior single, or all the rungs you can climb on the social ladder in comparison to other underclassmen. In the end, however, relationships with seniors are laden with so many landmines your romance is bound to explode into a fiery mess.

What might prove most hazardous in an affair with a dreaded fourth-year is our proclivity for existential crises. Constantly faced with the cruel fact of “real world” condemnation in only a matter of months, our daily functioning is fraught with freak-outs over grad school, job interviews, and the possibility of utter failure. In the very course of writing this letter, dear reader, I myself have suffered multiple panic attacks—over my living arrangements as of June 2010, my potential (or lack thereof) employment, and what the opinions of my peers and family will be after I do nothing of any value with my degree. Only a trained therapist is qualified to deal with the pandemonium of a senior’s psyche.

But not only does this impending close to our Yale career cast a shadow on our mental stability, it does the same to the longevity of your relationship. Although some quite prefer the concept of “Expiration Dating,” most of us know that an expiration date just means something is getting closer and closer to spoiling. By this time next year, your significantly senior other could be anywhere in the world. This knowledge is bound to make both sides wonder what you’re fighting for—a specious partnership doomed to die at the stake of great distance? Or a relationship accelerated to the state of matrimonial intensity by acquiescence to the societal norm of marrying your college squeeze? No matter how you cut it, the albatross of Graduation Day is likely to shit all over your relationship.

Many seniors deal with the anxiety of our impending graduation with ceaseless celebration. Tomorrow night is the last Nov. 7 we have at Yale, so we probably shouldn’t waste it, right? To the underclassmen, you are incapable of keeping up with the party-around-the-clock pace of your senior sweetheart. If he or she already has an offer from McKinsey or a fat acceptance package to his or her top choice law school, the soon-to-be graduate will be kicking it into full throttle. In your attempts to keep pace, your own academic performance will be demolished. And beyond this disappearance of your own future, actually taming a senior would likely prove untenable. Many of us treat every party we attend like it’s the Last Chance Dance, abandoning the monogamy you usually expect from a significant other. No matter how short of a leash you keep your pet senior on, they’ll still wind up sniffing someone else’s behind.

Furthermore, often our festivities are far too exclusive to include you. It’s hard to think of anything more frustrating than knowing you can’t see your senior sweetie every Thursday and Sunday night, is there? Well actually, I suppose having your senior ditch you every other Friday for a college-sponsored senior happy hour is up there too. And then, there’s always your solo spring break because of his or her senior trip to Italy. Even if you can get on the plane, you’re likely to feel out of place among the senior crowds. Yes, we are all glaring at you and wondering why you think it’s okay to be here sharing our senior shenanigans and drinking our senior alcohol: Get out.

I know this sounds like a cliché, reader, but this hurts me more than it does you—c’mon, I’m making myself a romantic pariah here. But no matter how experienced we might seem with our three-plus years here at Yale, or how mature we seem from our late age, or how mysterious from our sheer ignorance to our imminent futures, I can’t let you make such a romantic mistake. If there’s any good decision you can make for your love life this year, it will be to steer clear from any members of the Class of 2010.

Sincerely,

One of The Untouchables.